Why is it that while I feel so strongly about these things, I still get impatient? I still loose my temper. I tell them I don't care when they whine incessantly. I tell them to be stronger, to try harder, I give them tough love that has no resemblance of love.
Our heavenly father is perfect. He has gifted me with these children that remind me of innocence, true love, absolute patience, and moment to moment gratitude. They teach me what is important. They teach me about forgiveness. These children of mine don't hold grudges, they don't have resentment. They look at me with honest eyes that have trust and confidence.
I never knew being a mom would be so humbling. And I never anticipated that the fatherless would so enrapture my thinking that I would completely overturn the picture of a traditional family. Adoption, at first to us, was a means to grow our family even more and by also caring for a child who needed a home. We have a heart for the fatherless so adoption makes sense. Over the past several months on the waiting list, something has changed. What I thought was going to be an appendix of my life – parenting – and what I perceived was one of the things that caught my eye – orphans – has taken center stage.
I've always wanted a large family. A big chaotic loud bunch has always inticied me. I knew I wanted many children but I can't say I handle it like a mom who "goes with the flow". I know that I will look back on this time and scold my past self on what I held to be important. Really, I have it easy. My husband is an amazing dad who encourages the spiritual growth of our children and let them be who they are. He has no control issues what so ever and has complete trust in our children. As I write this I have put all the kids to bed and I am snuggled up with a soft blanket listening to the football game two rooms away.
The problem with living such a cushy life in America is that there's an impulse to pretend that most everyone else lives the same, or close to the same. To look hard at the face of injustice and abuse - especially toward children - threatens our own coziness, somehow.
It's difficult to wrestle with the dichotomy of have/have not. It can't be tidied up and tucked away in a labeled box. It messes with my head. It kicks me in the gut when I should be sleeping. It's hard to process the lives of children in third world countries. Their existence involves crippling poverty. Hunger. Slavery.
This Saturday, my children will wake up thrilled to the ends that Dad has the day off. They'll argue over whether we go hiking, golfing or swimming. We'll pay for one meal what over half of the families in the world live on for a week.
At the moment our children are sleeping upstairs in warm beds dreaming no doubt of Elmo, cows, and ice cream and will wake up with a mom who serves them warm oatmeal and waffles. I can not tell you how much this hurts my heart. I feel so torn in knowing that my children will wake up to a mom who complains of dirty laundry on the floor and spilled toothpaste when there is a child of mine out there who has basic needs that aren't being met like the warm embrace of a parent.
It is all about our attitude, isn't it? I ask, am I worthy of parenting another's child? It is very humbling noticing our own flaws and contemplating on how others see us and furthermore seeing ourselves as God intended us to be and noticing how we fall short. I pray that in our time waiting, God changes me by reminding me to be more grateful and less efficient. Gather with me to take the time and anchor this moment in gratitude and selflessness. Join me in praying for the children across the globe who lack everything we take for granted.
