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On a spring evening in 2004, my husband John and I rushed to a church meeting for what we expected to be another inspirational talk to revive our spirits and prepare us to live another month in a tough world. We knew a speaker was scheduled, but hadn't taken the time to review what the topic would be. Sue and Tony stepped forward, and shared about the Garden of Innocence and its mission—to provide a dignified burial for abandoned children. We heard that since 1999 over 40 abandoned children had been buried by this group. These children have been a low priority to government entities, but local mortuaries volunteered their services, and cemetery staff contributed time and
services as they were allowed.
The Garden of Innocence strives to recognize the value of each precious life. Each child is given a name and a marker on their burial plot. Each is provided a handmade casket or special urn, crocheted blanket, and a toy, by volunteer donors. Each is given a burial service that includes a poem written just for them, flowers, balloons, song, message, and prayer—again provided by volunteers. That evening, Sue and Tony asked us to pray about how we could help continue the joy of loving these children.
During their talk, my heart beat fast. I am a barren woman. Not only was I not able to conceive during my childbearing years, but during those years, I was married to a man who was unwilling to consider adoption. God brought me to the wonderful husband I have now, yet I still wince a bit when the subject turns to babies and children…a wound that never heals completely. A wound I count on Jesus to salve when necessary.I felt a distinct attraction to this mission. These children needed a spiritual adoption. They deserved someone to weep for them, to publicly recognize their time on earth and to smile at their being—and to call them by name.
During the Easter season, I'm always struck by the power of the moment at the tomb when Mary speaks to who she thinks is the gardener, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him. Jesus said to her, "Mary." She turned toward him and cried out, "Teacher!" (John 20:15b-16)
When I have moments of great distress, I visualize sitting at the feet of Jesus and I wait for Him to say, "Georgene." At that moment of hearing my name, I know great comfort. I wanted to call these children by name, in Jesus' name.
The original expectation of GOI was to bury with dignity children abandoned to death in the streets and dumpsters of the city. But many children are abandoned after death in hospitals or after arrangement for cremation. in Those left in hospitals are turned over to the county, cremated, and usually dumped at sea with other indigents. Those left at mortuaries are stored indefinitely. I learned there are as many stories as there are children.
An example would be Elijah. He was born to a 15-year old single mother. The grandmother arranged for the child to be cremated, but when the young mother brought the cremains home, the grandmother refused to let a dead baby "haunt" her home. The young mother, not knowing what else to do, took the ashes to a hospital, told her story, and a clerk mistakenly accepted them. The hospital management was unable to take responsibility for Elijah and so he remained in a cardboard box, much larger than the little pile of ashes inside, in an office drawer until several years later, when GOI was able to complete the maze of paperwork and red-tape to bring him to the Garden.
Area hospitals in San Diego Country are now fully aware of the service GOI provides. Efforts have now expanded to include a backlog of children abandoned to shelves and vaults of the county and local mortuaries. In December, 2004, GOI volunteers loved, mourned for, and buried their 80th child. What was originally expected to be a rare occurance has proved to be routine.
When it was clear to me that I was called to love children through the Garden of Innocence I talked to my husband about it. He had also been in prayer about how he could participate in the mission! Since then we have attended nearly every graveside service, helped build caskets, suggested a name, and written poems for two children. We've shared our experience with GOI with everyone we know.
A graveside service for a child of the Garden of Innocence is lovely. A special place in a local cemetery has been provided by the joint efforts of that cemetery and volunteers who provide donations to pay for the 700+ plots and the fees associated with opening and closing a grave. A bronze statue of a young mother graces one corner of the garden and trees and bushes surround three sides. At every service The Knights of Columbus provide a color guard and pallbearer services; people of many faiths provide those who preside over the services.
Musicians of all genres offer song—classical to gospel. Those who attend the service are invited to form a circle. The casket or urn is passed from person to person so that each child may be touched, held, and know they are loved. All participants are invited to drop flower petals into the grave. Balloons or doves are released as symbols of the Father, Son, and Spirit leading the children home. All are welcome to stay until the grave is closed.
Working with GOI is heart wrenching, but very rewarding, ministering to my sense of loss due to my own barrenness, and giving me an experience of mothering that I never thought possible. My mourning turns to dancing because Jesus has shown me in a most tangible way: Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Georgene's husband, John, writes a husband's perspective:
When Georgene and I heard about the Garden of Innocence I was struck by an odd parallel in my own life. In 1980 my former wife was pregnant. But I hadn't even gotten to share with her that I favored the name Christopher, when she had a miscarriage.
People encouraged me to "forget it and try again." We'd hear repeated advice like, "You are still young. This happens during many first pregnancies. Don't dwell on it—get started on making another baby." Mourning a life lost early in pregnancy wasn't given any validation at all. As I suppose it is with many men, I didn't know what to do with my feelings about this child I never really knew, so I followed the advice of well-meaning friends and family—I suppressed my feelings and moved on.
My ex-wife and I never conceived another child.
As I thought of the children of The Garden of Innocence it became clear to me that I had not mourned for my own child. I had let our culture lead me to discount the value of life! I am called to validate these children who lived longer than my own. By helping to provide a name and a dignified burial I would stand-in
for parents who, by their lack of resources or for whatever reason, had abandoned their children. In the service of the sanctity of life I would honor the life of my child, too.
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