I got what seemed like only a few moments this morning to talk to Mark. But, I was so thankful for it. Every little story he shares makes my heart ache for China and makes me long to be there with him.
He told me of one student who didn’t want to share her Chinese name with him. When he asked why, it was because her name is a boy’s name and she’s embarrassed by it. She told Mark her father had wanted a boy not a daughter. She lives day to day embarrassed that her name itself communicates that everyday of her life.
He told me about another girl who sat beside him during “club” where they sing songs and have fun and laugh with the students. She couldn’t see the screen with the words of the song in front of her though she was in the front row. She borrowed a boy’s glasses but still was squinting. Mark watched as she used her phone to take a picture of the screen so that she could hold it up close to her eyes to read it and sing along. Mark asked her why she wasn’t wearing glasses; she said she had some but she was too embarrassed to wear them. She felt ugly and old looking in them. So, she’d rather be nearly blind.
I hear these and other stories from him, and my heart aches to be there and pour into these girls.
I look at the picture emailed to me today.
As I am thinking today about my husband across the world totally out of his comfort zone but thriving and the college student ashamed of her name and what that means about her and the college student willing to live with blinded eyes when clear sight is possible and a baby boy who is learning about love from two very faithful, devoted parents, I find myself also thinking about another little girl only about 2 hours from where Mark is now.
Her name is Alea.
I’ve found emails in my inbox about her recently, emails I confess I’ve wanted to delete–somethings seem too hard to think about. But, I can’t escape. I’ve read blog posts about her and seen her picture online. And, I can’t not think about her especially knowing that right now as I am ending my day and Mark is starting his day teaching, she too is starting her day so close to where he is.
And, she’s sick. Very, very sick.
Unlike Caleb, she is not with parents who consider her the apple of their eyes. She lives at New Day Foster Home with other orphans, all children with medical needs of some kind. Alea, born with hilary atresia, can only live about 10 months at most without a liver transplant. Her precious little body will begin to shut down, and she will die. The New Day staff is doing all they can for her, pouring into her everything they have. But, their resources are so limited. She’s in the hospital in Beijing now. Pre-op is done. They now wait for a liver in a country where organ donation is nearly unheard of. And, they are praying for money. A lot of money. $65,000 in fact. That’s how much Alea’s surgery will cost, and that amount is astronomical for New Day. They’ve raised $7,500 so far, leaving over $55,000 to go.
And, here I am. In front of my Macbook. Overthinking.
Wondering how God will provide for this precious baby. Thankful for those who are working so hard on her behalf, advocating for her. Wondering how the staff there handle living with and caring for children hurting as she is–it has to be only by God’s grace.
Thankful for Caleb and the light he brings to his parents. Wondering what his future will be like. Wondering if he will follow in his parents’ footsteps.
Wondering about the life of those two girls Mark mentioned quickly to me. Wondering about all the other stories, each student of the 500 in that hall where Mark and the team have “club” and give lectures.
Wondering how those stories will change my husband.
Wondering what my daughter’s life would have been like had things been different in some way.
Wondering if we will go back there together again.
