It was our last day on the other side of the world. When we were told that there were no flights out of Beijing that day and that we’d have to fly to Shanghai for a 9-hour layover and then fly home, we thought we had the worst travel agent ever. But, then we remembered who lived in Shanghai.
I had advocated for him once, having been drawn in by his sweet smile in a photo I happened to see on a waiting child list online. I was thrilled when a family said yes to him and started the process to bring him home. A year later, when that day came to meet him and make him theirs, it ended with broken hearts. They weren’t prepared to parent him and they came home with empty arms and heavy spirits, and he went back to the place he thought he’d never see again with more brokenness than what was there before.
Rather then spend those 9 hours sipping hot milk teas in Shanghai, we grabbed our suitcases and found the guide whom I had hired ahead of time and drove wide eyed through the streets of Shanghai until we reached the gates of the orphanage where nearly 800 children call some semblance of home.
Within those gates, we met the boy whose smile had made me pause one night as I was surfing online. There we held his hand and asked him questions and took his picture and let him take ours. There we talked to his teacher and heard about how clever he is but how he doesn’t like to study much. There we told him he was special, that he was loved. He told us he wanted another family; he wanted to try again. We told him we’d make sure we’d share about him with everyone we could until we knew he had a family.
It was only an hour later when we climbed back into that van and returned to the Shanghai airport to fly home. I confess that I wondered if it would happen for him, if a family would have the courage to adopt an older boy who not only had a special need but who had already been sent back by someone else. Even with the stories and images we could share, I wondered if he…if He…had a family for him.
My travel home from this trip to China is much different than my last trip. No glitches. No layovers. No delays. Just a taxi to the bus station, a bus to the airport, a nice visit to the United lounge courtesy of our bosses’ wife, and a row entirely to myself on my direct flight home.
But, His timing is perfect, as it always is because instead of spending the last day of my trip visiting a boy who desperately needed a family, I got to see him receive one. This morning, as I was zipping up my suitcase and sipping my instant coffee, I received this.
Today, on my last day in China, the little boy I called Lee became Brody. Today, the child whose heart has been scarred got to hear the words “I love you” and “we’re forever.”
It didn’t need to be today that I saw those pictures, but it was. They were a gift to me, a little pat on the shoulder just to remind me that He’s going before me and that His plans for me are perfect and that all I’ve gotta do is follow Him, the “worst travel agent ever.”
Piaoliang.
