Every year, we save the ugliest day at the beach for our annual trek to ol’ Barney (Barnegat Lighthouse). Our kids look forward to climbing the 217, winding metal steps to the top, where they can overlook where the bay and the great Atlantic Ocean meet. The experience never really loses its luster.

This year would be no different, except that our days have been altogether different. Our family of 5 is a family of 6 for a season. “Jasper” is with us. On that day slotted for ol’ Barney, we decided that the climb to the top would not be an activity he could or should participate in. He came to us with weak muscle tone in his legs and has been falling down and tripping over his feet quite a bit. We thought that it was just too much for his little legs, too dangerous if he should trip. We also figured he wouldn’t even want to try because he has not liked climbing things at home with the other kids. So, we walked towards the lighthouse with the plan that I would stay with him and walk around the beach while the other kids climbed.

When we got to the entrance, he looked up and pointed to the top. His face was nervous but he started following the other kids into the stairwell. My husband Christian looked at me and said, “Should we let him climb?” I shrugged my shoulders and said, “I guess so! Seems he has already made that decision for us. If he doesn’t like it, I will climb back down with him.” He grabbed my hand. Together, we started to climb the steps, one step at a time. About only 20 steps in, he stopped. He looked at me, obviously already tired. I used my phone to translate “keep going.” He continued, all the time looking up at the spiral maze ahead of him. Half way there, he stopped again. He checked in with me for something translated as he has learned to do, and I said, “almost there!” He was getting slower and dragging a bit, but he did not stop again until we finally reached the top. I sent him out before me to the caged enclosure at the very top. He went out willingly and gasped as the strong, high winds hit him. He smiled so big and laughed as he ran around the platform with the other kids.

Joy.

He did it.

We had assumed away this experience for him before we had even arrived at the beach! He showed us! Sometimes, we adults get caught up in our protective higher knowledge. We think we know what is best and what our children are capable of. “Jasper” showed us that his physical setbacks are not character setbacks. His determination and willingness to try things that are different, even scary perhaps, triumph any limitations his body may have. He held my hand. He looked to me for encouragement. He was tired. But, don’t we all find ourselves there too? When we take on something difficult, we need a hand to hold, we need encouragement from others, we often falter from absolute exhaustion…but, man, when we arrive, the view from the top is just beautiful.

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We are currently hosting the boy MAA calls “Brett” for advocating purposes; our friends are hosting “Jasper.” If you feel the nudge that one of these boys may be your son and you would like to learn more about him, email me and/or the social worker at Madison who is working hard to find them families too. Note that Madison is offering $3,000 in grants towards each boy’s adoption with possibly more available!

From “Jasper’s” host mama…

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When he came, everything was new. Entirely and totally new. Coming into our home with 3 little kids and lots of associated kid stuff, he was overstimulated and into everything. New to hosting and adoption and all that means, we had trouble defining what was sensory related, what was simple curiosity, and what was testing boundaries. He was happy though and building trust very quickly. We’ve seen a good bit of connection to us now 2 weeks in. And, he clearly finds comfort and the discipline he needs and seems to desire even in both of us. He is now showing more of his sweet and surprisingly quiet true colors. He is still happy all the time, just so much more reflective and less immediate with his need to touch and get into things. As he holds my hand and looks to me when anxious with something new, he explodes with desire to be led. He wants to live and experience the world but with a guiding hand…just like every other child. He also wants to offer his own hand in service, helping in every way at every opportunity. Despite the language barrier, he clearly cares for our three children and is obviously concerned when they are scared or hurt. I watched our 4 year old Leah and “Jasper” play for hours on the beach together, in some imaginary world, as if they weren’t from opposite sides of the planet, as if they were not separated as an orphan and a daughter. They laughed and talked back and forth (I don’t know how) and held each other’s hands. They jumped over waves and pretended to be a warrior and princess fighting the “evils” of the world…not a difference between them stood in the way. He can do that with all of our children and ours with him. It’s overwhelming to stand back and watch. I so want both of them to know how they are both loved beyond their imagination and created in the image of their Creator. I can’t help but be reminded in a way that hits me like It is an amazing thing to watch and observe that all of God’s children are the same…all loved beyond their knowledge and created in His image.

I see the Creator in him as he shares the little he has, giving our children turns with special toys or offering his snacks. When we gather around the table for dinner at night, he now initiates holding hands and saying grace. He loves music and signs for everyone in the family to clap along so no one misses out on the simple joy of the music. His resilience amazes me. When he falls or gets hurt, gets sand in his eyes, gets knocked over, has a toy taken by another child, he does not get angry or cry. He gets upset but holds it together like a champ. I stood in awe as I saw him stroke our son Colin’s head gently when they pretended to be sleeping in a game of “family.”

Oh, how we want him to have that forever. I take very seriously our task to advocate and do all we can so that family is no longer a game for him but a reality. It’s what he needs to grow and thrive. I trust there’s a family out there who needs him too.

 

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We are currently hosting the boy MAA calls “Brett” for advocating purposes; our friends are hosting “Jasper.” If you feel the nudge that one of these boys may be your son and you would like to learn more about him, email me and/or the social worker at Madison who is working hard to find them families too. Note that Madison is offering $3,000 in grants towards each boy’s adoption with possibly more available!