I’d so love to write a coherent account of the last 24 hours. But, that’s not going to happen tonight. I’m running on less than 5 hours sleep and, apparently, I need a whole lot more than that to function after 12 hours of being awake…and playing a lot of charades.

There was a whole lot of smiling and an equal amount of awkward when the crew of 5 kids and 2 chaperones arrived past midnight to greet a bunch of people anxious to catch the first glimpse of them.

One of the three buddies seemed quite content to walk close to his new host family. These two, however, stayed pretty tight.

All seemed happy when they caught on that we were all leaving together.

Until they were not happy. The emotions of it all and sheer exhaustion overcame “Jasper.” The boy who was a ring leader and firecracker at the airport was in a heap. M.Y. (“Brett” for advocating purposes) remained stoic in the car even after we dropped “Jasper” and his host mom off at their house. And, he remained that way as we quietly walked with him around our first floor and then invited him upstairs to the room he will share with Drew. As he stood in the middle of that room, standing strong, he started to sniffle a little and then started crying.

There is nothing quite like the cries of a child who feels entirely alone in his heartache.

I eased him onto my lap where he was able to sit with me without having to look right at me. There he remained and watched Drew and Mark play with Legos, the two of them thinking aloud for his benefit, knowing full well that he could not understand a single word but hoping that he’d hear their voices responding to each other, sense the relationships and safety, and be comforted.

He was.

We soon had this.

And, then we had this. He was brave enough to take his shoes off.

At 4:00am, Drew suggested that the two of them try to go to sleep. With every layer of clothes still on, M.Y. climbed into that bottom bunk and closed his eyes.

 

We are fostering a child and his name is ___. He is eight years old. He loves cats and we have two cats. And his favorite color is green and my dad’s favorite color is green and ___ is from China too just like me but he is taller than me. And he likes Legos too so do I.

I had a conference call last night with the team going with me to the orphanage in October to serve. I talked for nearly a full hour about why we do what we do and how we do it. Near the end of the call, I shared something that I share every time.

Expect to have a day—or a few days—that you find yourself thinking, “What in the world am I doing? Why did I commit to this?” Every time I go, inevitably, I have a few of those moments when I hear a small voice in the back of my head planting doubt and fear and trying very hard to grow it. In those moments, remember this moment right now when you were excited, encouraged, felt that assurance that you were right where you were supposed to be and that you were moving forward in the good work that He’s laid out for you. Don’t be surprised by the doubt; expect it, be honest in it and share it, and let us help remind you of the truth.

Here I am. Not even 12 hours later. I’m looking at this image on the screen in front of me.

And, I hear the voice.

What in the world are we doing? Why did we commit to this?

I can easily rattle off a list of why this was a crazy idea—he doesn’t speak English, he’s older, he’s scared of cats (yes, that made it to my list), meal planning and prep is going to be tricky, I know nothing about his special need, he’s bigger than Lydia…what if he bosses her around? what if he doesn’t like her? what if he doesn’t like us?, he’s sharing a room with Drew…what if he doesn’t want to sleep there?, I have to keep up with my counseling schedule…I can’t leave Mark here with our 4 and this child too.

I sat down with my coffee in my green chair, trying to settle enough to read a little before my to-do list and four children overwhelm the day.

So if you’re serious about living this new resurrection life with Christ, act like it. Pursue the things over which Christ presides. Don’t shuffle along, eyes to the ground, absorbed with the things right in front of you. Look up, and be alert to what is going on around Christ—that’s where the action is. See things from his perspective.

Your old life is dead. Your new life, which is your real life—even though invisible to spectators—is with Christ in God. He is your life. When Christ (your real life, remember) shows up again on this earth, you’ll show up, too—the real you, the glorious you. Meanwhile, be content with obscurity, like Christ….So, chosen by God for this new life of love, dress in the wardrobe God picked out for you: compassion, kindness, humility, quiet strength, discipline. Be even-tempered, content with second place, quick to forgive an offense. Forgive as quickly and completely as the Master forgave you. And regardless of what else you put on, wear love. It’s your basic, all-purpose garment. Never be without it.

Let the peace of Christ keep you in tune with each other, in step with each other. None of this going off and doing your own thing. And cultivate thankfulness. Let the Word of Christ—the Message—have the run of the house. Give it plenty of room in your lives. Instruct and direct one another using good common sense. And sing, sing your hearts out to God! Let every detail in your lives—words, actions, whatever—be done in the name of the Master, Jesus, thanking God the Father every step of the way.

And, just like that, the reset button has been pressed.

Nothing has changed. He’s still 8 years old, not 3, and taller than Lydia. He’s still scared of cats. He’s still Chinese.

But, He is who He is. That hasn’t changed either. I’m choosing to see things from His perspective. This is going to be hard. But, this is the life of love He’s called us to. This is the wardrobe He’s lovingly laid out for us. He’s gently nudging us even in our hesitation saying, “Go ahead. Try it on. I promise it fits perfectly.”

Here we go.

Saying goodbye to the little boy we hosted in December was harder than we expected. Hosting was a little harder than we expected. For days after he left, Mark and I just kept talking about him, processing the experience, rehashing again what it was like to watch our kids serve him so well, imagining together how changed he will be when his new family brings him home for good, resting after hovering over a toddler again. As we were still debriefing, our kids were debriefing in their own way. They didn’t rest really at all; they started talking about doing it again.

“When we host another kid, let’s make sure we….”

“Next time we host, can we…?”

They were in their own process. Maybe they’d let it go. Maybe “normal life” would move forward—homework, school plays, birthdays, softball—and they’d move forward and let it go. But, they didn’t so much. Instead of forgetting about the idea, they actually widened their idea, opening themselves up to hosting a child who might be a little harder in their view.

And, now, here I am, a pile of papers in front of me with a list of things I haven’t collected in a while—marriage certificate, health forms, background checks, clearances. All with this little face in mind.

He’s 8 years old. His favorite color is yellow. He likes to play games. And, his favorite animal is a kitty cat. And, apparently, that was all we needed to know to invite this guy to join us at the pool, play with us at the park, build Lego creations, ride bikes around our driveway, and sleep in the bottom bunk for a month. All that’s way more important than language anyway, right? (Did I mention he doesn’t speak English? Our iPhone translation apps are about to get a serious workout.)

M.Y. has two best friends. The three of them are adorable together. Seriously. 

Both of his buddies are available to host too. And, as of this morning, no one has said yes to them and invited them for Legos and bike riding. And, we’ve only got one bottom bunk. Do you have one?

Email Sarah at Madison Adoption Associates if you live in PA or MD and feel the nudge to learn more about hosting one of these little men. Madison is so interested in getting the three of them hosted that they are offering a significant grant to families who commit this week.

We’d love to do this with others. It’s best for the boys—and for us so that we can be reminded that we aren’t crazy…or that crazy…something along those lines at least.