Much to Say

Not sure if I can remember how to do this blogging thing...

Last June, the last post?  I guess that I've been in a major "pause" in terms of writing.  I struggle to get our monthly newsletter out (email me if you'd like to be added to the newsletter distribution or send me your email in the comment section and we'll get in touch with you)...but it seems that as we look ahead in 2013, there's going to be a lot to write about.  In now our fifth year, we made a switch to monthly newsletters, something that was very hit or miss during the height of my blog writing days.  Now it is the main communication tool.

We've become comfortable Here.

Not that I'm talking about "comfort" as I once knew in the West, but the type of spiritual comfort that lulls my soul into a false sense of control.  The feeling of control that accompanies "predictability."Control was my favorite illusion of the West.  If you read the early years of this blog, you'll see how difficult it was to let go of that control and to be present Here, in a new culture, in a new reality.  I never really thought it would happen to me again...silly, I know...I thought that once we surrendered to the burden on our hearts and moved to the other side of the world, that I'd remain in some state of hyper-awareness of the Spirit.  Ummm...I was wrong.

I think that has had much to do with the radio silence on the blog.

Of course, I do have nine children at home.   From the moment my feet hit the floor in the morning, until my head hits the pillow at night...life is full.  Writing takes energy.  Energy is at a premium.

I guess He thinks it is time to shake things up?  Now I have much to talk about...and I have no idea where to start.  We've planned to start working with a coach now that we've returned from conference and retreat.  We'll talk with her weekly as we try to sort out the transitions of this year.

I think that I'll have things to write about in these coming days as the changes come.  Change enables us to see things in a new way.  New ideas mean that I must write as I cannot possibly hold them all and make sense of them.  

We've got big changes coming at the school that may well mean a change in our employment and perhaps location.  The girls will be transitioning out of local school this year as their education can no longer be supported by the school...so we'll begin homeschooling in earnest.  We have big medical care issues for The Charmer and The Bruiser this year that will require travel to the specialist.  For the first time, we will likely not return to the US this year for furlough.  More changes in our family, the number in our home, and our older kids may have changes in their lives this year as well.  We're contemplating language school...expanding our mercy projects...perhaps beginning our own organization...and some big changes in affiliations.  There are business proposals we've been given, visions shared with us, and just these past three weeks given strong encouragement to begin to write a book.

We are confident that He remains on the throne and in control of our lives.

We went to conference and retreat exhausted and hoping to hear from Him.  We certainly heard from Him.  We were blessed by so many angels who ministered to our hearts, encouraged us, and challenged us to remain abandoned to His service, no matter the cost.  We had the best teaching ever with deep a deep study at conference about the Journey we're on.  We savored the stories of saints we met who are working all over the world, each with their stories of trial and faith, struggles and victory.  We sang and praised the roof off with our Team and others who gathered with us each Sunday... our hearts are full of joy for all of it.

2013 is going to be an interesting year...

Above all...may we be faithful.

Above: Our Family with ERRC retreat leaders Martha and Pam

Above:  Our Team led the music for conference...how we love our teammates!

Above:  The gang savoring a warm evening together during retreat.

Above:  The teaching at conference was powerful and challenging...

Above:  The kids performed for conference a song of thankfulness!

My teachers

One of the great things about raising children is that you are continually reminded that they are often the better teachers than we.  Like some months ago, when I told Bub that he needed to hurry and be more independent when it came to dressing in our many winter layers.  I was frustrated and felt grouchy about fighting to keep him focused in the tight time constraints we have each morning.

I snarkily said to Bub, "Look at The Singer, he is two years older than you and he is getting himself dressed all alone!  You can do that too!"

Bub considered the facts for the moment with his fifth shirt over his head, but arms dangling lifelessly uninhabited.  He tilted his head, looked at his little brother (the one I had just compared him to, in a maternally unwise fashion), then he smiled broadly at The Singer, patted him on the shoulder and said, "Good Job brother, you're doing a good job all alone, without any help!"  It was so genuine and beautiful.  I sat there shocked at his lesson of grace and generosity.  I want to be so much more like my son, Bub.

Today, as the Tomb Sweeping holiday continues, we enjoyed more projects and various activities in our new family-way.  I took Ezra out with all his siblings, to the playground, where we met with his new teaching aide. She will be hired by our family to go to school with him, to help him engage in all areas of the classroom possible, and to tend to any special issues he might have.  

Ezra wheeled out, still a bit shyly, but with a cautious smile as he met his new aide, and the head teacher for his kindergarten room, my friend, Joanna.  After awhile, a crowd of local village kids and other parents of small children came to the playground.  They all wanted to see Ezra.  At first I worried that he would be a bit of a side-show, but in fact, he sat up proudly in his wheelchair meeting new person after new person.  Each one of them becoming charmed by his smile and gentle personality.  After some thirty minutes I saw how many of the most rough and tumble kids, were eagerly engaging with Ezra. Some of the older ones stroking his face or playing peek-a-boo.  Mothers of babies and hosts of others came and smiles and shook his hand, or greeted him warmly.

I had a deep sense of knowing today that we will all learn a great deal from Ezra.  He will be a great teacher not only for us, but for this whole community.

Below:  Daddy measures Ezra for the custom sleds he's making for Ezra to use at school and at home...of course Brownie is there to help, too.

Below:  Ezra is smitten with his Daddy.

Above:  Ezra needed a haircut desperately, so we were so pleased when one of our teammates, Mrs. S came over to give him a haircut...he is still happy in the above shot.

Below:  Ezra is fascinated with Brownie's glasses.

Below:  The last of the happy moments of the haircut...I now know WHY his hair was so long!  He HATES haircuts!  ;)

Below:  shots of the wedding, Brownie and Bub, the Bride and Groom

Below:  The Bride at the reception!  What a party!!!

Below:  One of the reception musicians...he as also a groomsman.

Below:  Other members of the wedding party.

Below:  Nehemiah shows us that he TRULY loves to dance.  He was keeping time with the music as he danced with his sister.  Absolutely darling as he spun her around the room.

Below:  The Groom (Bub) and one of the bridesmaids (Bug) cut a rug, too.

Nehemiah is transforming.  He so desires to do what we ask of him.  When we sat down at the table for breakfast this morning, he told all the siblings loudly that they must fold their hands because we had to do some "talking with our eyes closed" before we could eat!  Then he told them that no one could leave the table until everyone was finished eating.  He looked at me and smiled warmly to show that he was doing what we'd asked of him.  I thought about him in that moment, how he has experienced a total change in his life in just these past five days, and yet he is really trying to do what he can to adapt.  It would be natural for him to resist, to fight, to complain for sometime all the changes that are being required of him.  But he is not.  Instead, he is trying his best to engage with us, and to do what he must to become a family member.

I'm learning a great deal about my own adaptability and attitudes by watching Nehemiah.  How I fight circumstances that make me change my behaviors, customs, and attitudes!  Too often I drag my feet and protest the necessary adaptations to "blend in."  I want to be more like my son Nehemiah.  He is resilient, he is brave, and he has a willing attitude.  What a man he will grow up to be with those qualities!

Tomorrow we're off to sweep the tombs with our local Chinese family.  I promise photos from this most authentic cultural experience!

Grace and Peace to you who are following along.

Good People

While I don't intend to begin a discussion of the innate value of mankind aside from a relationship with their Creator, I would say that last night I sat among some people who clearly reminded me that mankind are the Image-bearers of Him.  In this world of catastrophic news and evil done among humans, one to another, I was quite literally awestruck by being in the presence of some "hao ren" (translation is "good people") who have done great things in this our host province.

Our morning began as usual, hustling out to school for Monday's start to the week.  But, at 3 pm, after changing clothes at the school, Daddy and two of the H kids (The Bug and Potato) were picked up by a van and taken to the annual broadcast of a provincial TV station recognizing the top news stories involving "good people."  We were deeply honored to sit among these beautiful people whose stories were each examples of good works done to benefit others.

The story of our family and the make-up of it (five biological children and soon-to-be six adopted children), has overwhelmed our life here since October.  We have done over twelve TV interviews/special programs, on various stations, multiple newspaper interviews, and radio as well.  Each time, we've been thankful for the opportunity to talk about love, His love, that is given to us to give to others.  We've enjoyed being a living, breathing, visual aid illustrating adoption, a concept little understood or accepted socially, Here.  It has been quite amazing to have so many people interested in our family, that in the West, is not so unusual.

Our story placed us within the company of twenty-two other stories of "good people" who were adjudged as "moving" the hearts of our province.  We were WAY, WAY, WAY out of our league!  It was such a gift to be involved in the live, two hour TV special last night, as eleven of the stories were developed more elaborately through video, music, and staging.  We sat among greatness.  We were terribly out of place, as we are just a family, but the access to those who truly were inspirational, was breathtaking.

One woman helped to save a little girl from being hit by a truck, herself then being struck and sustaining an injury that cost her both her legs below the knee.  Another mother, whose daughter had been badly burned, gave her own skin, literally having it removed from her body to be grafted on to her daughter's, to allow her daughter to be healed.  A man I sat next to, lost his only son a few years ago from some sort of blood disorder.  While in the hospital, his family received some money from unknown individuals, to help pay the medical bills.  On his son's deathbed, the father promised that he would honor his son by continuing to help others.  Now, his meager salary is given out to help with college tuition for students in need, to help with medical bills for the poor, to help neighbors who need money.   Another man, a teacher, who himself suffers significantly as he is unable to walk unassisted by crutches, teaches daily in a very poor, rural school.  The countryside, so impossible to navigate in a wheelchair or crutches, that often his wife must carry him on her back up the rocky hill to the school on her back.  No matter his pain, he is dedicated to helping the children receive the best education they can, for as long as he is able to give it.

The tears flowed from many of the hao ren as the stories were told.  But, as we waited to walk in on the red carpet to the TV studio, we were greeted by a man, another of the hao ren,  who said HE'D been waiting to meet US.  He said some beautiful, kind words to us, and encouraged us and our family greatly.  His face was so peaceful, strikingly kind, and he was so soft-spoken.  We were then able to hear about he and his wife, who live in the countryside of our province, about seven hours away from our capital city.  They saw the need of dozens of children in their village and surrounding area, who were left-behind, when their young parents had to go to the cities to work.  This is an enormous social issue now.  Young adults who marry, must leave their ancestral hometowns in the countryside to go to the cities to earn money that will support their parents and grandparents back in the villages, all year round.  Of course, those young adults, who marry, are responsible to their families to have a child, too.  Often, that child is left behind with the aging grandparents, or in some cases great-grandparents, to be raised in the village.  The impact of this, these babies, being left behind and raised by often much older relatives, alone, is staggering. Their educational opportunities are limited...but the greatest of all...their education as people, family members, their emotional development, their awareness of societal norms...is greatly lacking.

This man,Lu Ping, and his wife have taken in over 180 children into their home to raise. Currently, they have 32 children living in their home.  The video showed the children's shoes all lined up outside the rough exterior of their countryside dwelling.  More shots of his wife and some children cooking, hands chapped and red, washing dozens of potatoes in frigid well water...the clothes area with plywood shelves built to organize the children's layers of clothing...the open courtyard where the children play with sticks and their imaginations...

Another child they have taken in, could not walk at five years of age when he came to their home.  Lu Ping, having no formal training, began doing physical therapy with the child.  After an extended period of time, the child is now able to stand and take a few independent steps.  Lu Ping told us that he plans to use a swimming area, near their village home, once the weather warms up, to take the boy for more therapy using swimming.  He beamed with love as he spoke about this boy who would have had, quite literally, no prospects for anything but begging, in his future.

I was awestruck.

I wept and held Potato tightly on my lap.

They brought a young couple to the program, who presented their comments about their own daughter, that they cannot raise, who is living in Lu Ping's home.  They bitterly wept as they talked about the pain of separation from their child, but the gift that the Lu family has given them, knowing that their child, is being cared for compassionately and intentionally.

The end of the program brought the announcement that Lu Ping's family will receive the funds to build a proper school building on their property so that the children can further their education.

After the program, we found ourselves face to face with this man, so slight of stature, so immense in his love for others...and I was compelled to hug him...he warmly received it and then hugged Daddy, Bug and Potato...he has invited us to go to his home and to see first hand the work there.  I can assure you, we will.  He said that he will also bring some of this children to visit us, and our school, to talk about ways we can work together with our common hearts for children.

I know that this connection was divinely orchestrated.

This week I was feeling really sorry for myself.  I'm often really tired...and there is never any rest to be had.  Daddy and I often feel worn thin.  Nothing gets done without a monumental effort on my part (this is where the descent into self-pity always begins.)  The simplest task are quickly unmanageable once the variables of nine family members are brought to bear.  There is all this cooking, cleaning, organizing, layering upon layering of clothes to dress everyone, and then those classes to teach, too.  Wow, the pity party (as I'm sure you can feel from my previous comments) was really in full swing.  I was certain that as martyr mom, my life is really hard with these kids...and two more coming very, very soon.

But, I was corrected, deeply, powerfully, by the example of Lu Ping and his family.  I was reminded again how soft I am, how I desire comfort over sacrifice, how I demand respect instead of willingly offering service, how I esteem myself as one requiring "a break" instead of putting my head down and joyfully living each day to the fullest.

In reality, the Word teaches that I am a slave, and I was bought with a price.

Lu Ping's wife lives in a home with no heat, in the mountains enduring frigid temperatures.  She cooks for thirty-four people, three meals a day, in a kitchen with no modern conveniences.  She manages dressing child after child after child in layers upon layers upon layers to keep them warm.  And her face...is radiant.

We did not deserve in any way to sit among those people last night.  Yet I am so grateful that we did because we were able to see up close, beauty in suffering, heroism in sacrifice.

Oh Lord, grant that I will never forget the lessons learned last night...may I surrender willingly, joyfully, to the life you've called me to. May I embrace all the burden that is brought by loving others.  May your Kingdom come, among us, as we readjust our identities as slaves to a compassionate master.

Normal

I've been thinking a great deal about the concept of normal.  A month ago it was a vocabulary word that was included in the curriculum for my English students.  The definitions varied, but as we all know, the general idea is that it means what is expected, what is usual, what the majority of the time would happen...

In that same period of time, I've been inundated with answering adoption questions from PAPs (prospective adoptive parents.)   Often the questions "normally" run from "what is being an adoptive family like?" to "what is the adoption program like that you've been through?"  Yet, sometimes, I get questions about my kids' "special" needs.  (ie, missing left eye, missing fingers, the things that are not "normal", etc.)  I use the words special needs all the time, especially as I find it helpful in communicating about the specific adoption program that all four (soon to be six) of our children have come through.  The Special Needs track of adoption is different than the "non-special needs" track within the adoption world.

Anyway,  too often when my mother and I talk, she asks me how we're doing and I answer "busy as usual."  While it is true, life is perpetually busy living Here with seven kids, teaching full time, and all that goes with our projects...we are always busy.  So, I've been thinking, my correct answer to the question of "how are you?" is, " everything is normal."  In fact, I used to think that someday soon things would slow down, we'd get a less-pressing stretch of time, and we'd catch our breath.  But, even as the eternal optimist, I think it is now intellectually dishonest of me to continue to fantasize about that time that is never coming...maybe not for at least the next ten years? (I come by this trait passed down by my mother who forever told me as a child when things were difficult, "We're just about to turn the corner!")

And in terms of my kids "special needs"....well, everyone of my children by marriage, by birth, by adoption, has special needs.  Without a doubt so do Daddy and myself!  Maybe our special needs are not so easily identified externally, but we all have them (extra bone in the foot, poor eyesight, anxiety, large birthmark, control issues, difficulty in focus, and on and on.)  It has become increasingly difficult for me to be able to talk about my children using the labels that were initially assigned to them through the adoption system.  Yet those were the labels that in some cases struck fear in my heart when we considered IF that child was to come home to us.

Often, when asked, I have to think about it for a second to REMEMBER what the the special needs are of each kids.  And truly, those identified special needs have tended to be the least of what has made their lives challenging.  In truth, it has been the issues of insecurity, anxiety, abandonment, institutional delay, or the feelings of loss that are the matters of greatest consequence when it comes to family relationships.  The physical issues that affect all of our children are the very least of the matters that impact their lives.  Of course, it is true that their physical issues will have impact on their lives in varying degrees as they navigate through their lives.  (Ezra's life in a wheelchair will demand accessibility as he travels, works, has a family of his own some day. Bub's single eye will affect his depth perception and can be a factor in his future driving, employ-ability, and he'll never be a fighter pilot.)  But the issues that have made raising the children challenging are the "heart issues," for all of them, regardless of how they came into the H family.  I suppose that each of our the members in our family are simply normal.

On Tuesday this week we had a power outage at our apartment and the school.  It lasted for about four hours.  We had to walk down the eight flights of stairs to get to school (which had us all imagining the near future when Ezra is home and we will have to carry him down the stairs on such a day.)  The classrooms were really dark, so I moved my students to sit on rugs near the window and we read a story together.  The next story in our reading book was about a goose, who had only one foot.  The story involves a little girl who worries and worries about the goose.  She wants to help the goose because she is sure that the goose will not be able to eat, swim, and most importantly, fly south when the freeze comes for winter.  One day all of the geese are gone.  She frets all winter and spring about what must have come for the goose.  Then one day, the flock returns to the pond behind the girl's house.  The one-footed goose now has a mate and shortly seven baby geese have hatched.  I asked my students when we finished reading the story, "what did you learn from this story?"  (This can be sort of an advanced question with my third year ESL students, as they may well understand the story and my question, but to be able to articulate their answer in English is a heady proposition.)

Toby piped up and told of a story he saw on the internet of a woman who was born without legs, but that he was so surprised to see how "happy" she was in her life.  That she could do so many things and he had been amazed.  Then Terry quickly added to the story of Nick V (the Australian guy born without arms or legs) and his independent lifestyle...even learning to swim! Then others, like popcorn, started relaying their knowledge of people born with physical "special needs", including some of my children.  All of them agreeing that just because one is born with a physical special need (like the goose in the story) it did not mean that they would have a bad life or that they would not have the blessings of love, family, and community that we all cherish.  Finally Ethan said, in his awkward English, "It make me think, if these other peoples are borned with no arm or leg but they do their best and live happy, I should do my best and be happy for my life too."  Then just as the whistle blew on class (the bells are powered by electricity)...Jack, previously deep in thought, said, "trouble with your body does mean nothing if you have a family who gives you love."

I walked away from that class, immensely grateful, for what my "normal" children have taught me about myself and the concept of physical special needs...about what this adventure of following Him has done for my realization that to have special needs is in fact, normal...not extraordinary at all...

Meeting Confucius

I had an unexpected meeting with Confucius on Tuesday.

Well, truth be told, with several of the devout followers of his teachings.

I hustled out of the school at 2:30 on Tuesday, hopped into the yellow van which serves as the school bus (and often our private car that we hire when we need to get somewhere with our big family.)  I fought a horrible case of nausea all the way into the twisting, narrow roads of the inner city.  It would seem that the longer I live the pedestrian lifestyle I am terribly susceptible to car-sickness.  (I remember this being the case, especially for Potato when she came home so many years ago...she HATED to ride in the car...felt car sick and very anxious about how fast we drove in the West.  Now I have a much deeper understanding of this matter.)

Anyway, off I was jostling side to side through the twists and turns in the van with no shocks...bouncing and shifting all over.  Finally we pulled up to an impressive building, 30 stories tall, and Uncle (our local family friend) met me to be the translator.  Up to the 26th floor we were ushered into an interesting scene.  An office, several gentleman wearing traditional mandarin-collared jackets smiling warmly, welcomed us into the honcho's office.  The door said, "Confucius Academic Studies Association."

I was drawn to the windows that offered an easterly and westerly view of our city.  Two lakes in view, one East and West, were proof that the mega-city I looked over at one time was a natural landscape.  I am certain that no one remembers that time Here now.  No matter how long I live Here, I don't think I will ever get used to the head-scratching, sheer magnitude of the population and its effect.

We sat down on wooden couches, that sling you back into a semi-reclining position.  I always feel unsettled in those chairs, a bit like a turtle on my back.  They eagerly brought in other chairs for the meeting attendees to swarm upon.  The tea kettle was switched on (thanks to electricity this standard element of culture takes so little time to produce.)  Tea leaves were sprinkled into 6 plastic cups...and soon the red light told us that the water was boiling.

Then the dance began.

First introductions.  Second a display of important, we're- worthy- of- your- respect-type items to show that I was not meeting with unimportant people.  Third, exchanges of warm, yet a bit forced in their flowery-ness, pleasantries to establish good will.  (I am so thankful that I'm learning tiny elements of how to do this ritual, though I'm not very good at it, I'm at least not so "foreign" to it anymore.)

Finally, after about 40 minutes of preliminary chat, the heart of the matter.

These dear souls are eager to address kids who do not get families, to open a center where they could live, go to school outside, but return for intense education in traditional, Confucian teachings.

Furthermore, they wanted me to come an speak at one of their seminars.  To speak about adoption, why we have done it, what our experience has been, and why we would agree to adopt children with special needs.

They desired a mutual exchange of thinking...East and West...to address this worrisome matter of children without families.

I have no idea what will come of this meeting.  Perhaps we will establish some relationship in which I can learn more about key philosophies that have shaped this mighty nation...and even our city...so impressively seen outside the two windows at 26 stories high.

As I left, I used some Mandarin to dazzle them...and rode off into the hazy sunset, through the warren of streets, the smell of ripe fruit in my nostrils, the challenging presence of people undeniable, and the persistent nausea in my blue, tin-can, taxi.  The view from the street is a very different sight to behold.

These high-minded men, who devote their lives to the teachings of filial piety, honor, respect, duty see the answer for the questions of the populace at street-level...in returning to traditional culture.  They were so ambitious, so engaging in conveying their purpose.  I respect them greatly and am so honored they considered talking with me something to be desired.

As I rode around at street level, I kept looking for Him, in the eyes of the people.  Amidst the daily struggle to survive...where would I find Him?

Then I remembered the man I'd seen the day before.  Face down, missing his leg, filthy and lying on torn papers...

We gave him some money, and he looked up and caught my eye...and in just that instant, I saw Him again, staring back at me...inviting me to love Him more.

It is true that the view up above is amazing.   And the thoughts I think up there are involved, my mind stretching to contain new concepts...it is a lofty place to visit.

 But the sights to be seen in the eyes of those around me down here on the ground...divine.

Waiting in high gear...

There are a number of issues that are pressing/pending that I simply cannot massage out of the "waiting" category to the "moving forward" category.

We have paperwork creeping its way through Immigration channels for Nehemiah.  We are waiting for a determination from the IRS to know what we must send in to substantiate our tax returns, we've only received a "we've selected your return for further review."  I've been trying for a week to get a response from the US consulate in GZ giving us an appointment time for this Friday, so that we can make an expensive train trip down and back in one day to renew our fingerprints for Immigration for the 5th time in 5 years...to prove we still have no criminal record  in the US.  We've been creeping through some visa issues Here with renewing our Teaching Certificates (complete with ANOTHER medical exam this past Friday.)   We're waiting to see where the next money will come from that we need to further the adoption paperwork.   We're waiting to sign four new teachers than I've worked on recruiting over several months.  We're waiting for final arrangements for Qian Qian's surgery next month...and on and on the list goes.

If I'm not really careful, the above makes a tornado of thought that leaves me sitting and spinning and ANXIOUS for some break in the stalemate.  Herein lies the problem.

When I allow my thoughts to swirl and I get too focused on the angst of waiting...I lose my joy.  My eyes slip from their gaze on Him, in whom ALL these DETAILS are already resolved.  HE KNOWS, and HE has made provision for all these matters.  When I am keeping my eyes and heart focused on Him, allowing his Word to sink deeply into my heart each day...I experience peace.

It is ironic...and shameful...that just a few weeks ago I was reveling in how He attends to every detail, resolved every issue, even BEFORE I often know there is a problem!  This reality was awash over me so recently as I contemplated The Bruiser's needed surgery and medical care,  his acceptance to the charitable hospital which led to my need to remain in the States for a longer period of time, which led to the need for our children to travel back Here without a parent.  Once we realize the significant challenge that was there, nearly immediately, we also discovered His beautiful plan to meet those needs.

I was IMing with a friend who is herself waiting, and waiting, and waiting for an adoption to come to fruition.  I "spoke" of my frustration with some of these waiting matters I listed above.  She said that she couldn't wait to see how He was going to resolve our every need.

Thanks to that dear sister, I was once again aware of my need to cast all my cares upon Him...to not forget this amazing gift He gives us...so that we can experience peace, in the midst of any wait/trial/circumstance.  How marvelous it will be to SEE what He will do!  How He will move mountains again and again and again.

I see a great flaw in my thinking as it pertains to how GOOD He is.  I often find myself viewing His mercy and goodness through a lens I picked up a long time ago.  One that dictates that for every good thing that He does, I must earn it, I MUST do something to deserve it.  And, that there is some sort of "limit" to His miracle working goodness, and that for every miracle we see, we're ever closer to the line where we've used up all our "miracle credit."

The lens dulls my vision, it makes my peripheral vision completely out of focus, so that my eyes can ONLY see the issue just before me.  The headache from looking through this lens muddles my memory of all He has done in our lives.

I am so thankful for the Word that, when I meditate on it...FORCES me to put down that lens and EXPAND my vision of who He is and how indescribably GOOD He is.  It is far beyond what my mind will EVER be able to comprehend.   I was forced to put down that lens just recently when I read again the story of Joshua and the Israelites crossing the Jordan river.

During the last adoptions, a dear sister spoke encouragement to us about our situation and the parting of the Red Sea.  Often that story resonated and built faith in our hearts to believe in the miracles we needed to bring the boys home.

Some time recently, while I was looking through that faith-debilitating lens, I came upon the story of Joshua crossing the Red Sea.  My vision through the lens was viewing our current needs for Nehemiah's adoption as well as The Bruiser's medical needs, and various other difficulties as  BIG PROBLEMS...we will need more miracles to move these mountains for our sons.  When I read the story of Joshua, I simply could not continue to see things as I was...I had to put the lens down and refocus my eyes on the One who parted the Red Sea AND the Jordan river!

From Joshua, Chapter 4:

²⁰ And Joshua set up at Gilgal the twelve stones they had taken out of the Jordan. ²¹ He said to the Israelites, “In the future when your descendants ask their parents, ‘What do these stones mean?’ ²² tell them, ‘Israel crossed the Jordan on dry ground.’ ²³For the LORD your God dried up the Jordan before you until you had crossed over. The LORD your God did to the Jordan what he had done to the Red Sea^[b] when he dried it up before us until we had crossed over. ²⁴ He did this so that all the peoples of the earth might know that the hand of the LORD is powerful and so that you might always fear the LORD your God.”


I was confronted with the truth that the One I put my trust in did not just ONCE part the waters for His people to pass over on dry land through the Red Sea...but AGAIN He did it so that they could pass through the Jordan.  There is no limit on His provision, His mercy, His goodness, His deliverance or His miracles.  If at anytime I'm allowing my thinking to be otherwise...I must change my thinking...


Our part is just like that of those who crossed the Red Sea AND the Jordan...to tell our descendants what He has done..."so that all the peoples of the Earth might know that the hand of the Lord is powerful and so that we might always fear the Lord (our) God."

I'm thankful this morning that my eyes have returned to their right focus on Him who does miracles...and that my waiting is now joy...the joy of anticipation, for I know how marvelous it will be when He reveals how He intends to move us through the obstacles...on dry land.

Stoking the fire

We had a foreign friend over for dinner this week.

He and his wife have been living in our city for nearly 10 years now.  They run a coffeehouse.  Since we first met them 3 years ago, we've had a great affinity for them.  Not just because of our shared values, but when we come away from seeing them, we have experienced the warmth one feels when you draw near to a fire and you get warm too. 

I once heard used the illustration addressing that in our spiritual lives, isolation is disastrous.  That just like a fire burning brightly, when you separate out individual pieces of glowing embers that they cool and die.  It is the same with our spiritual lives.  It has been popular for many years to say that "I have my belief, but I don't need to go meet with others each week to keep it." 

I suppose there were times in my life that I've thought the same.  However, now that we live on the other side of the world from our home culture...where the opportunities to meet together are very limited...I see how important the fellowship of brothers and sisters truly is!  We yearn for the luxury of finding a group of like-minded folks on every corner in our hometown to meet with...to share our struggles...to rejoice with...to be reminded to look up and not at everything around us in which we are mired.

Thankfully, we have bright spots of visitors that bring fresh, red-hot embers along with them!  When they arrive, we gather around them and we find ourselves stirred up, glowing red again.  We've been so thankful for a few such visits in the past month.  Each time it seems they bring to us a survival pack of fire...each with a different encouragement to "remember we invest in people, not systems," or "that perseverance produces great fruit in our lives," or to "remember the vision"...these summation phrases represent food for our hungry souls when living Here on an outpost.

During our visit this week with the foreign friends, we were so excited to hear that they too have had a heart to help children like Qian Qian.  In fact, as the wife is a nurse serving at the local hospital part-time, she has doctors willing to identify these families with newly born children with correctable special needs.  It would then be possible to catch them, before they believe they have no other choice but to surrender their baby, to let them know that help is available to get the surgery the child needs, so that the families can remain united.  Truly an orphan-prevention program, to my thinking.

As we shared the story of Qian Qian, our friend's eyes danced with joy as he could hardly wait to tell us about their unity in this burden...and their connections to help the project along!  Many pieces are yet to be revealed to the puzzle, but we all felt literally high in our spirits, catching glimpses of what may be work prepared in advance for us to do!

Before I close this and rattle the beds to wake the slumbering souls...

I was so surprised the other day by two mothers of my students.  Remember, I wrote before out sharing Qian Qian's story with my English class.  I knew that the children's hearts were touched deeply as they considered how they could help others...their tender responses thrill me each time I think on them.  Anyway, two mothers of my students, who heard the story through their children, but themselves who speak little to no English, approached me.  Each woman smiling and warm and they stuffed some money into my closed hands.  "C tell me about baby.  Please help for me." said one mother, then she thanked me over and over.  Then next one, who could muster no English told me in Chinese, "So warmhearted, so thankful, please help his mother."

I have been told a number of times by our friends here that the idea of charity is not a universal concept that enjoys broad support.  In fact, I have seen in my limited conversations with close friends, that at least in some cases this may be true.  I cannot express my joy in having these two local mothers, give to Qian Qian, after the report of their children, my students! Perhaps this seed planted in my student's minds will continue to bear fruit as they mature!

On one other note...

Some time back I wrote about Little Kevin.  (See Hospital posts, September 2010.)  I saw his father yesterday.  Kevin, who was hit by a truck out front of our housing complex and suffered a broken pelvis, has still not returned to school, it has now been 3 months.  I was horrified to hear that his treatment (at 3 years of age) continues at his home, where he is STILL confined to his bed.  He is expected to be kept in bed for the next month...total bedrest...where his body is tied into place.  Three months since he was a happy, super-athletic kid.  Today he has spent the last 3 months tied down in his bed.  I simply cannot imagine it.  When we saw him at the hospital 2 1/2 months ago, I was frightened by how despondent he appeared...what must he be like now?!  At that time they had been relieved that he stopped crying each day and had seemingly surrendered to his fate of remaining in bed.  The emotional toll that must be on Little Kevin, who was Bub's best friend at school...how will he ever recover!?  He is only 3 years old!  Once he completes 4 months of being tied to a bed?

Please, lift him up with us...he is in need of miraculous healing.

Short Days and Long Nights

Perhaps it is the chill in the air that came from the North two days ago.

Certainly the limited daylight is contributing to it...

The blog author, who is most assuredly a "morning person" cannot drag myself off the mattress these past few days.

This is particularly disastrous when one considers the chain of events required to get seven children, one "non-morning person" husband, and oneself off to school each morning.  Our concrete floors (with tile over them) are frigid.  So I spend the first 15 minutes of the wake-up bell shouting orders to "find your slippers."  Here it is a mortal sin to allow your child to get cold.  Cold equals illness, in the mind of my neighbors, it is an infallible equation. 

Then the scrambling thoughts of breakfast...what will we eat this morning?  For a few brief weeks at the beginning of school, an intrepid peddler planted himself just outside our LQ gates to sell noodles and baozi each morning.  My kids (but greater still, I) acted like we had heard the music from the ice cream truck come to town!  I practically ran each day to the peddler's cart, (as I'm not one for running...this is notable), with high hopes that he would still have enough to feed my brood.    For the equivalent of $1.50 USD, I could have a hot breakfast for all 9 of us!  But alas, the peddler has shuffled off to greener pastures, and I am left in the daily panic of how to make a hot breakfast each day.  Mortal sin, #2, feeding your children cold food...especially on short winter days!

Once fed the real fun begins as we assemble three layers of clothing per child.  That is, for those of you keeping track at home, 27 layers of clothing in one day!  While each year I have curious questions from blog readers as to WHY we wear so many layers, even though it is only say 30 degrees....I'll try to get ahead of that now by mentioning again that we have no central heat.  When it is 30 degrees outside (think of this as you hustle into your climate controlled car tomorrow and feel impatient waiting the 5 minutes for the heat to begin to blow on your chilled hands) it is only 40 degrees inside.  Living in 40 degrees, with no escape, demands multiple layers.  I fought this valiantly when we first arrived.  I so longed to prove that my western-idea of dressing was adequate...secretly disdaining the layers...but I have fully succumbed to it now.  It simply is a necessity. 

(It is Mortal Sin #3, to allow your children to go out with at least 3 layers on...you are subject to periodic, random checks from any party such as the school nurse, school parents, teachers or the principal...if a child is found without layers, the parent is branded with the scarlet letters NP for "negligent parent" on their foreheads and forever within the hearts of the community that brand is remembered!)

 So, we rush about finding the thinnest, warmest layers each morning, work up a sweat trying to pull them over each other, until finally putting on our down coats...that often will not be removed all throughout the work day.  Soon the days will be here when I'll wear my gloves, even at my desk, as it will be too cold to type on my keyboard. 

The final backpack hunt, homework recovery, shoe matching and donning, gloves, hats, thermoses full of hot water, dance shoes for dance class, guitars for music class, snack for snack time, towels for hand washing...and SWEAT TOWELS for our Kindergarten boys who will inevitably work up a sweat while running and playing and will wear them down their back to absorb sweat (another cultural thing I fought to no avail)...teacher name badges, cell phones, lights off, doors closed....and then the DASH to the school building.

Yesterday the wind was blowing so hard, freezing wind from the North, that it took us twice as long to walk to school in the face of it...The Bruiser nearly knocked off his feet a few times by the gusts...

Then we all settle into our different rooms, in the same building, and go about our daily life...until 5 pm...

when the dinner rush, homework press, bath time, bed time by 7:30, parents collapsing...event begins.

Must begin to gather the layers for Tuesday...we leave in just 50 minutes...

Refocusing

I suppose that due to my shameful lamenting regarding my birthday on Thursday...I needed a reality check about how blessed I am...

I got an email from a dear friend who herself crossed over to 40 last month...and a few other encouragements (thanks Donna) that life on the "other side" seems to be going well...

The email from my friend said that she too had been feeling a bit out of sorts with the changing of the decade for herself and then that day, two guys came over to meet with her husband, each with MAJOR challenges in their lives...and she felt like she received a big wake-up call from Him to count her blessings.

I received such a jolt last night about welcome news for my birthday this Thursday...

Qian Qian has recovered from his fever, and is admitted again to the hospital.  If all goes as planned, he will have his lip closed on Thursday!  That is a magnificent birthday present! 

I was standing in my kitchen when I got the call.  I was thinking of how tired I felt at 6 pm...how I still had to make sour cream for Thanksgiving...and roast the pumpkins so I could make pumpkin pie...how I had to make sure and reinforce the flimsy rack in my big toaster oven so that the turkey would not fall down on the little heater elements...and make some sort of cream of mushroom soup for the broccoli casserole base...of the boys fighting raucously over a truck...two girls complaining about having to help me make the salad and set the table...Daddy being home late again from school...two other sisters in a verbal combat over whose turn it was to turn on the heaters in the beds...

I nearly missed the phone call due to the din (in my ears and in my mind)...

Then, like a ray of sunshine from above...He gently reminded me that This (Qian Qian, the Thanksgiving outreach, the precious children he's given me, the husband who serves his family with love and diligence, the school and the people who gather there each day and make our life full)...THIS is what it is all about...and I am blessed beyond compare.

How silly I've been.  How utterly ungrateful. I am ashamed.

What a gift to mark the occasion in my mind of my 40th birthday as the day I wrshped Him by helping a young boy have a future and remain with his birth family.

My life is abundant...as He promises all of us who follow Him...each day worthy of celebration and Thanksgiving...how could I ask for more?  Each day of each year has brought me to this place and I would not go back to some earlier day for anything.  To sacrifice anything He has brought me during these 40 years would be unbearable. 

I am once again, full of anticipation...how much more I will learn of Him...how many more thrilling journeys will He lead us on...in the next years should He give them to me.

I'm embarrassed to have written so much about this...really it is too much navel-gazing...but it has crowded my thinking over these past few days...and I can only write about what has been on my mind.  Otherwise my writing is forced and too dry for reading. 

Taking my eyes of Him produces such silliness...of focusing on things that are meaningless...and missing the matters that are of preeminent value.

Returning my gaze to Him swells my heart with Thanksgiving...

Changes

We made it through the gauntlet of birthday party/sleepovers...and we are still standing.

This week is full of some more significant events, we have visitors from a special group coming to see us.  We will also welcome a family who is adopting their child from our city to our home for a special night of connecting with them. We have a city-wide "English competition" that our students will compete in this next weekend, too. Of course, this will be AFTER we give mid-term exams this Friday morning!

It is easy for this pace of life to push us on, force us forward even when we are not ready to move on.

For the past year of living Here, several key people who we've connected with, or who were "helps" to us during our period of settling in have left.  It is no joke to say that at least twelve key people have moved on from the school/company/LQ where we live.  Each month we grapple with new news that someone we care about and who has supported us when we've been in a pinch (usually with culture or translation)...is leaving.  This weekend brought news of two more who will soon be gone.

Yet the momentum of life in the schedule of school carries us swiftly on down the river.  We really have precious little time to consider all these changes...we just keep swimming.

This week we will also mark the five-month anniversary of the New Guys adoptions.  How can it already be 5 months?!  So many things have changed with the boys...language acquisition, bonding, The Bruiser can feed himself and walk up stairs alone...much with them changes each week, that we are not able to take into our notice either.

The Bruiser, which I will detail in a further, more focused post, continues to struggle the most at adapting to family life.  His little soul was so damaged by institutionalization.  We are learning volumes more about the ramifications of these things with his development and its effect on bonding...but still...not much time for naval-gazing.    It seems that he will stretch us, teach us, confound us the most of all nine of our children.

Sometimes my parenting philosophy could be summed up like this..."making a big wake."  If we press forward and make a big enough wake behind us, they will all (the children) get sucked into it and pulled along too.  The Bruiser seems to be the only one who is intent is swimming against the wake...pressing as hard as he can against the momentum to join in and come along smoothly.

So far our resilience for change as a family remains high.  Still I find myself thinking now and again about change that moves things that we "depend upon" out of our reach.  Am I holding fast to the Rock, to the Anchor that holds when all else is torn away?  We hold to a faith that does not disappoint...yet when the "holding" depends on me, I so often lose my grip...or my attention is drawn away.

It is mornings like this when I need to return to the Truth and meditate on it...that it is He holding me...and that He will never lose any who He has claimed as His own.  If holding it together, through change and challenge depended upon me, we would be utterly lost.

Looking Ahead

Please forgive another brief post this morning.

I've been making some key contacts for Qian Qian and enjoying a few emails from those of you who read this blog.  When I write this blog so often, sometimes I wonder who is out there reading it...how it is received.  It has been fun to read a few "feedback" emails from a few folks out there!

It will be a few more days, maybe the beginning of next week, before I will know some more concrete details for Qian Qian's surgery.  I have made contact with a few groups who have negotiated "charity rates" for such surgeries, but they are in cities a great distance from here.  The mother would have to travel and stay in an unknown city for some time while Qian Qian gets his care.  We may go this route, but I'm still eager to see if I can connect with a special contact here in our city.

However, since encountering Qian Qian, the HS has been really stirring our hearts in the area of "prevention" for the orphan situation.

When an adoptive parent, even though I "knew" one of the reasons causing the high numbers of special needs kids in orphanages was the "cost of care"... I didn't process this as fully as I am now.  For a family who is living with the median income here in our city according to a recent government survey of 1200 RMB per month the costs of correcting a minor special need in their newborn baby is astronomical.  Even if the cost was a mere 10,000 RMB...that would be 9 months of income...if they didn't feed or house themselves!  If it is a greater cost given to them....it is like Daddy and I being told that our newborn baby must have a MILLION dollar surgery that MUST BE PAID IN CASH IN ADVANCE...to help our child.  Take a moment to let that sink in!

When I lived in the West, and even sometimes now when I read comment boards on "international adoption" news stories...I often heard comments like..."they just abandon their babies if they are not perfect"..."since they only get one child, that child must be perfect."...and other far more incendiary and judgemental comments.  I too passed these ideas on.

But I see now more clearly...it is an IMPOSSIBLE circumstance.  How could a "median income" family keep their newborn?  A newborn who in many cases was desired, hoped for, loved in the womb,  wanted greatly...just like their peers in the West...the difference is...they do not have the funds to give their baby a necessary surgery.

Qian Qian's mom really took a gamble.  She is a hold-out.  So wanted to change her reality, she was willing to withstand abandonment and beg on the city street...in the hope that somehow she could find help for her son. 

In my observation of children already paper-ready for adoption, there continue to be a steady stream of kids with special needs who are finally "found" (or come into the orphanage's care) at 8 months-2 years of age.  Perhaps their mothers were also hold-outs?  Perhaps they came to the city to beg and found no "help" to repair their child's need?

And what of the countryside family?

If the city dweller's median income is 1200 RMB per month ($180 USD), for some who even have a COLLEGE education, what about the countryside family who farms to eat?  Who has no regular income?  Who may live on 120 RMB per month?  What about their child who is born at home with the midwife who is discovered to have a special need?

It is an impossible circumstance.

Is there not a great need to identify these families in crisis either through the local hospital maternity nurses, or through the countryside midwives, or deliberately seeking them out begging on the streets?

What if we could say to them, "We have a project to help your baby get the surgery he/she needs...so that you may keep your child?!"

Much waiting and prayer is required before acting on such an idea (in fact we don't want to be initiators, but RESPONDERS to His leading)...but it is apparent to me, that this is a gap, a desperate need, that perhaps we could help fill in a tiny way?

Please, those of you who are like-minded, lift this need up.  That if it is His leading, that doors will open as we begin to knock on them...

When I close my eyes I can see Qian Qian's eyes...and in my core I know there are many more like him...

There are tons of "good ideas"...we want no part of those...only "His ideas"...

Humanity, Pt. 3

I observed a day of rest yesterday, so neglected to bring the latest on the story of the Momma and baby who were begging.  It is a good thing, as I have more to share now.

In the days since we saw them on the pedestrian overpass I've had a few local friends try to counsel me that what we did was unrealistic.  In their care for us, they have warned us that the situation was very possibly a scam.  One dear friend said that he was aware of stories of people who took children, perhaps those whose parents could not care for them and who would have potentially ended up in an orphanage, to use the visible need of the child as an appeal to beg.  He said, "I give it a 50/50 chance that you'll ever hear from her again."

I was really saddened by this thought, but I knew, it is a very real possibility.  When one is desperately poor and is in need of money...what would we not do to feed ourselves?  And, while I knew there was a chance that it was not as it should be, I felt so strongly that this mother and baby were what they appeared.  The way she sobbed...it makes a pit in my stomach as I think of it.   What an actress she would have had to have been!  Even more, the experience was so powerful, so deeply spiritual while being so grounded in the natural, I knew I could trust the HS's leading...that He was calling on us to be present and do whatever needed to be done for the good of that baby.

Thanks be to Him who does amazing things...we are in contact with the Momma and baby!

In the past twenty-four hours, contact was made, through a few intermediaries...but it was achieved! I consider this nothing short of a miracle!

The little boy, his name, Qian Qian (pronounced chen-chen), was seen today by a doctor!  The first visit of his life to a hospital!

We determined from our exchange that night on the overpass that the woman was staying with a "mei-mei" (little sister) here in our city.  Apparently it was mei-mei's boyfriend who contacted our dear local friend (who is assisting on our behalf.)  The first phone call exchanged some basic information and our friend asked mei-mei's boyfriend to accompany the Momma to the hospital so that the baby could be seen and an estimate given regarding the cost to repair the cleft lip.  (I am unsure at this point if the cleft also includes the palate.)

The second phone call came a few hours later (apparently they went immediately to the hospital) with the details from the Doctor.  A treatment plan, with various steps for the Qian Qian's lip repair was briefly covered with our friend and arrangements were made for both men (the boyfriend and our friend) to meet and speak further.  An estimate was given by the hospital as well...10,000 RMB or approximately $1,505 USD...the cost given to change Qian Qian (and his mother's) life by giving him surgery.

When I heard the estimate, though I do not yet know where the money will come from, I asked our friend to immediately tell Qian Qian's mother that we will pledge to provide the surgery her son needs.  I know the He is in this, that it was his prompting that caused us to go back and to sit down instead of giving money and passing on by...and I know that He will provide what Qian Qian needs financially!  How exciting this will be to see Him moving powerfully in the life of this courageous mother...who suffered reproach and ultimately her husband's abandoning...because she wanted to keep her child.  How can we not do everything possible for her?

I hope to soon have a picture of Qian Qian to post here so that you can see the precious child I've been writing about!

If your heart is touched by this story or you feel the HS's prompting and want to be a part of this miracle for Qian Qian, please email me!  We hope to have the funds together very soon as everything must be paid to the hospital in advance for the surgery to take place.

One final thought on this post...

I contributed to a book recently published about living and teaching Here.  In one of the chapters I wrote, I discussed the effect of a picture of a mother and child that my husband had brought back from a short term trip to India....here are excerpts from that writing :

A few years ago my husband traveled to India with a Christian, humanitarian organization. Among the more than one thousand pictures he brought back was one that proved to be a seminal moment for me.

This excerpt is from my journal in January 2007:


“There’s just one picture that I cannot get out of my mind; the lady in the street. She’s sitting in the street, begging, her son curled up and sleeping with his head on her lap.

Of course, I don't know if he was sleeping, I assumed so, because I'm an American who thinks that living in suburbia without a husband who was traveling for 12 days was a real hardship. Maybe the boy wasn't sleeping at all? Perhaps he was just too weak or too hungry to sit up next to her and beg? It’s hard for my mind to conceive of anything like that. My healthy, well-fed children are so loud playing in the next room I am unable to construct such a reality even in my imagination.

My husband apologized for the resolution of the photograph. He said it didn't fully tell the story. He was riding in a bus and shot the picture through the glass.

You see, the picture didn't capture the tears that he saw streaming down her cheeks while she was sitting in the middle of the busy, over-crowded road, her son's head in her lap.

Should I be angry at myself for not understanding her reality? Should I chastise myself for not being able to relate to what that life would be like sitting IN THE STREET...weeping...begging...with a child huddled next to me?...

...How could I relate? The abundance in which I live is like the novocaine my dentist uses before he drills on my teeth. The greater the abundance, the less I feel anything, especially compassion and connection with an unfortunate woman weeping in the street on the other side of the world.

If I had been there, If I had seen her, maybe I would have gotten down in the dirt with her and told her about how difficult my life has been lately…

Would I ever have anything to say to her? Could I even open my mouth in her presence?

Maybe I'll just delete the picture...and go back to worrying about that car repair that needs to be done...now that's a real pain...


How foolish I’ve been…”

Now it is nearly 4 years later.
 
Just three nights ago, I sat down on the pavement with a mother, so desperate for help for her special needs son that she endured the shame of begging to get him help.
 
It is true that I really didn't have much to say to her, as I'd imagined would be the case when I'd looked at the picture of the woman and child in India.  But I saw the reality of the seed that photo planted...a chance to reach out...to put my faith in action to meet the need of the one right in front of me.
 
She is not a stranger to me.  She is my sister in this common experience of humanity. 
 
While I do not know the pain and shame of what she's endured to provide for her special needs son...I have the ability and responsibility to bridge that gap to meet her in her point of need.
 
I know that there are many more who need help.  But for now, the opportunity to minister to Him exists in little Qian Qian's need...to be His hands and feet...and for His glory alone.

Humanity, Pt. 2

As I drew closer to her, my eyes became fixated on the baby sitting upright on her lap. 

The cleft in the baby's lip was wide, and the nipple of the bottle the mother was using to feed him milk disappeared high within it.

The mother sat on a brown burlap sack.  Her legs gathered up underneath her, her face downcast as she stared at the large handwritten sign spread out before her that detailed her need.  Random coins had been thrown down on the sign and lay scattered about.  My mind fixated on the thought for just a moment of what it would be like to have coins literally thrown at me.  Her dirty hand, rough and weathered, held some small bills.  Beside her lay a plastic sack with a "recycled" bottle containing milk for the baby.  A blanket, a wet diaper, and a McDonald's sack lay close by.

The baby, bundled with layers and layers of clothing, had green socks on.  The socks looked as though they had been worn for a million years and had walked on coarse footing for miles upon miles, even though the baby was not yet of walking age.  His raven hair looked dusty and had bits of straw stuck in it.

As I squatted down, the girls alongside me, the baby caught my gaze. 

In all my life, I don't think I will ever forget that moment.

There are those times when events cut deep into our realization, branding themselves into our memories...this was one of those.

He stared right through me. 

His eyes penetrated to my core and he held my stare for what seemed an endless time. 

As I reached out to touch his head, absolutely compelled to touch him...I knew that I was seeing the face of Jesus in this little child's eyes. 

I cannot explain this with any more clarity than to say it was a deeply spiritual moment in which I heard the voice of the HS saying to me, "I am here.  In the need of this child, you see me."

Hastily, in broken Chinese we began to tell this mother that we knew other babies, lots of babies who had cleft lips and palates.  That we had friends who could help him...that we wanted to help him...

I asked, "what does the Doctor say about him?  what needs to be done to repair his lip?" 

She answered, "he has never been to the Doctor."

There it was again...

No money...no treatment...the white coats with their backs turned until a FaPiao was produced.
 (See The Hospital posts, early October)

I told her, "I have friends, we can help him...the surgery he needs...we can help him"

She began to sob.

She wiped bitter tears away forcefully. 

All the while, the baby continued to stare at me.

Now the crowd around us, literally PRESSING/LYING upon our backs to view what was going on, were questioning, muttering, and sometimes loudly interjecting comments at us.  The commotion and the now dozens of faces did nothing to divert the baby's attention.  Every time my eyes came back to him, he looked at no one, but me.  My heart burned within me. 

I know that the Book teaches that when we give so much as a cold drink of water to the least of these...we give it to Him.  We have the opportunity, the privilege to minister to our Lrd directly when we reach out to touch one in need. 

Devotion ablaze within me I realized a young man had come to join our intimate circle.  He introduced himself as a post-graduate college student, and English major, and I immediately conscripted him into service. 

Though the mother, her dialect as thick as I've ever encountered, labored to be understood by my new interpreter...they kept on...he translating my questions, then her answers.

She said the baby had been born some eight months before, and her husband had ultimately left her because of the baby and his special need.  That she'd come to the city to beg, as she had no food to feed them...and no hope for them in their village.  When I asked where she would sleep that night, she told me of a Mei Mei (little sister) in the city who was allowing her to stay there.  She had no phone, but gave a number for her husband. 

As I watched the young man, who we came to know as "Alex,"  scribbling the notes of her tale in my little notebook, I turned to The Bug and said..."see (pointing at Alex), He has sent us an angel to help us in this moment of need."  The Bug, eyes wide said, "this is why we are Here...He wanted us to see her tonight!"

We crossed a different pedestrian bridge last night, one we have never traversed these past few years...the "chance" of that was not lost on The Bug.

Questions in the crowd persisted. 

They began to ask my girls about us...who we were...where we were from...and of course, finally as they registered that Potato (our adopted daughter) was mine...that we had Chinese children.

An older woman, her eyebrows deeply drawn as perfect black lines above her eyes...began to question the mother directly...alternately questioning us as well.

Then I heard Potato gasp.

She was on the other side of the mother from me, so I looked immediately to see what had caused her such alarm...

She said, in whispered horror, "that lady just told the Momma to give you the baby!..."

"...She said that you have Chinese kids.  That you can take care of that baby better than she can...that if she was smart, she would give you the baby right now!"

"No!"  I exhaled in alarm..."No!" "Tell her that I want to help her and her baby.  I do not want to take her baby!  I see that she loves her baby!  I want to help her baby be healthy so that she can take him home again."

The mother sobbed.  I stroked her thin shoulders...and began to pray there...out loud...laying hands on them both and interceding for His mercy to touch them, to guide us...and to allow us the opportunity to repair the boy's lip...to protect us from making any mistakes...to grant us a connection that we could meet his need...to bring peace and comfort to the hopeless mother.

The frenzy around us dissolved as my eyes were locked again on the baby's eyes...

Then I heard Magpie begin to speak...

"I have brothers...one who was born without and eye...one without fingers on his hand...one whose feet are turned in...and they are okay, they are fine, they are loved...your baby will be okay too."

I watched Potato caressing the baby's head and marveled at her tenderness and compassion...she gently picked the straw out of his hair...cooing at him.

Brownie, sitting flat on the pavement, was massaging the baby's feet.  Straightening his pants, tickling his toes, and smiling warmly.

The Bug, fighting to stay upright with all the pressure applied to her back by the crowd, huddled closer to the pair...trying to shield them from the excited onlookers...

Our little ministry team...recognizing our limitations, but agreeing in willingness that whatever He could use us to do...we would do...

After thirty minutes or so, we'd exchanged contact info...sort of...it will be a miracle if we can find each other again...

But, luckily...I've seen an abundance of miracles...

As we stood up, I asked "Alex" to translate one more thing...that "God knows her, loves her and the baby, and that He sent us to help..."

My young translator, mouth agape, said..."Yes, yes...I will tell her..." then flustered, he added, "God bless you!"

"He has blessed me Alex, by sending you...my translating angel to help me in this crucial time...He has used you in a powerful way..."

The tears now welled in his eyes.

A young post-grad student, out on a Friday night...just trying to pass over the pedestrian overpass...when He was thrust into service to show mercy to this mother and baby...

I know that he will never forget this encounter.  I pray that the seeds planted through it will bear much fruit in his life...

There is more...but I must write later...I am so tired and overwhelmed now...please forgive me for carrying this on to another post...but I don't want to miss anything...and there's just only no more energy left at 10:30 tonight...

Regression and Leaping Forward

Last week, as I blogged about, we had the marvelous experience of the first meeting with The Singer's foster parents in our home.  I shared in earlier blogs about his responses.  For the most part, as soon as they left, he seemed reassured and at peace.  Life has gone on in the subsequent days, as normal.

However, I didn't blog about The Bruiser's responses. 

For those of you who are unaware.  The Singer and The Bruiser were adopted on the same day.  They are only 1 week apart in age.  The Singer having been given the blessing of spending his early years in a foster home...The Bruiser however, spent his everyday in our local orphanage...institutionalized.  We are making it a point to connect with his main Nanny, as she too lives here in our city, as we hope to provide a link to his history as we have been able to with our other 3 adopted ones.

When we received the boys in June, we were shocked to see the developmental differences between the two boys.  Please don't misunderstand me, we have been around adoption now for several years, I have been trained/well read/seen evidence of institutional delays in children.  We expected that The Bruiser would suffer from those delays.  Perhaps it was so striking due to the fact that we had these two sons, of identical age, and to see that The Singer was beyond expectation in regards to developmental milestones...whereas The Bruiser was at least 12-18months behind.  The difference was so stark.  At 2 years 8 months old, the Bruiser could walk only short distances (due to weak muscles), could be planted on the floor with limited stimuli for long periods of time, could not feed himself, was not potty trained, etc.  Also anytime he would come up to any bar like object at his mouth level (especially something metal, porcelain, or COLD)...he would put it into his mouth...no matter the location we were in or how DISGUSTING the object.There are various other developmental milestones that were lagging as well...but these demonstrate some of the bigger issues.

Of course, we adapted to his needs and settled into having a 1 year old child, instead of a 2.5 year old.

We celebrated his hasty potty training, as we couldn't continue to send him to school with no pants on (see earlier posts.)  And, he can now run around quite well with his brothers.  We never take the stroller out for him anymore, whereas we simply had to for the first 2.5 months as he was too uncoordinated to walk very far.  We attributed this to the institutionalized situation of lots of "crib time."  However now, he can go shopping with us all day, walking quite rapidly and confidently.  Only struggling sometimes from the effects of his right foot's inward turn.

Returning to the day of the The Singer's foster parent visit...

During their visit, The Bruiser seemed really teary and irritable.  In fact, Daddy had to take him out of the room and to our bedroom for a bit of quiet-calming time.  It did strike us as odd, but, the events going on were so animated...we dismissed it.

Then I asked The Singer's foster mom if she had ever seen/knew The Bruiser while he lived in the orphanage.  She said, "of course."  She apparently went to the orphanage often as she is a key person in the local fostering community, so not only was she familiar with him...but he was familiar with her.

She said that even though he was the oldest boy in his "grouping" living at the orphanage, every time she saw him out of his crib, he was in the nanny's arms, being treated like a baby.

The night went on and we discussed little else about The Bruiser, but he did seem a big clingy to his Daddy throughout the rest of the event.

However, the next day, he began to wet his pants.  Standing next to me, emptying his bladder in a massive puddle on the floor, without even the reaction of "uh oh!"  It was like he was totally checked-out.  Four times in that day it happened.  Keep in mind that in the 3 weeks prior, absolutely NO daytime accidents, and eagerly telling anyone near that he had to go to the potty...

It lasted only one day...and then the next day it was as if he returned to his right self again.

I'm certainly aware of regressions that most kids exhibit from time to time.  We've experienced them with each of our kids.  But this was so dramatic, and accompanied by his complete lack of reaction...that it was clear to us that something had triggered it.  As it began the very next morning after The Singer's foster mother's visit...it must have been connected to it.

Now I'm ever so eager to dive into exploring more detail about his life at the orphanage.  As we live only a short distance away, and we have some key relationships to facilitate it...I have to get some more understanding.  Seeing The Singer's foster mom must have been the trigger...it must have made him feel insecure at the very least...and at the worst, triggered some really difficult emotional memories.

The day after he was brought to meet us at the Civil Affairs office, we returned to sign the final papers that we indeed DID want to adopt these boys.  A representative of the orphanage, there to witness and sign the documents for both boys, asked The Bruiser did he want to go back to the orphanage to see his special Nanny?  His response, a firm, "Bu Yuo"..."Don't want."  They seemed a bit surprised by his response, but smiled and commented on the "good match" he was with his family.

I've heard that such a response is not all together uncommon, that only a few days after children from orphanages come to their parents that during arranged "visits" to their orphanages that the children show no signs of "homesickness," if you will.

Still, I've got to do more reading, more delving into this issue of institutionalized living...and try to uncover more of the mysteries of The Bruiser's early life.  Psychologically something was triggered that set him off balance for the next day after seeing someone he associated with the orphanage... I brought the book The Connected Child by Purvis Here with me this year...and now have a dear Sister back There who will be reading it with me...maybe more insights will come there.

Yesterday however, as I saw him sitting at the table...eating his breakfast...feeding himself with little mess, I was reminded how far he's come in 3.5 months.  When he told me later in the morning, "Momma, look at me," in clear English, and them promptly did a dance that had us all in stitches...I thought of his progress again.  And as I watched him run down the street, still with a bit of a "baby's gait," but unassisted, and SO JOYFUL...I was reassured that he is flourishing, leaping forward in every area developmentally. 

When enrolling the boys in school Here, we had to give them Chinese names.  With all our children, we have kept a portion of their first names...usually the third character...which is typically doubled and used to call a baby or small child his/her name.  For instance, if the child's third character is Ping, generally he/she is called "Ping Ping." 

With all of the kids, we have released the surname or first character portion of the child's name (usually named after the city in which their supervising orphanage is located.)  Also, the second character, which in the case of our kids has been a second indicator that they were orphans, we have left behind.  So, their "new" Chinese names have our Chinese family surname, a 2nd character we choose to capture something special about the child...and then the third character...their "baby name"...as well.

We chose the 2nd character for The Singer, pronounced "Ge"(guh), because that character means "musical."  For The Bruiser, we chose a 2nd character "Chao,"  because it means to "surpass" or to "overcome."   This is of course our prayer for him, that he surpass and overcome any obstacles from his special needs...both physical and emotional.

He just came in to greet me this morning.  He wanted me to put him up in my arms, to hug him, and to rub his back while he woke up.  As I held him and whispered a prayer for his healing and wholeness...I called him by his Chinese name...three characters that mean he belongs to this family, that he will surpass and overcome, and that he is strong (the meaning of his baby name)...I believe that this is true...

Above:  The first time we saw him...at Civil Affairs...lots of vacant stares..

Above:  The Bruiser, last week...coming alive...

Thanks be to Him for the chance to watch this miracle of His love unfold!