If you're like me, you're gonna need a Kleenex

On Thursday we had an unexpected visit to another orphanage in town. An orphanage that doesn't have the same resources as Hannah's Hope. I knew this would be a sobering trip, but I had no idea what I was in for. The children greeted us with smiles and waves. I can't post any pictures of them, but these precious faces are etched in my mind.

As we toured the place, I noticed the drying laundry hanging literally everywhere...
And then I learned that they have no washing machine. They do every bit of laundry by hand. Our agency is partnering with this orphanage and trying to get a washing machine for them. I don't know about you, but that is an effort that I would love to be a part of!

We walked through several different rooms and then the director said "Now I will take you into our Special Needs Room". I was unprepared for what I would see and feel when I walked into that room. Four children lay motionless in beds staring off into the distance. All in the room were paralyzed. Some were blind. Some had mental disabilities. None will probably be adopted. They may never even leave the orphanage at all. Two workers stood in the room ready to care for their every need. The director pointed our attention to a sign hanging above them on the wall in Amharic...
It reads, "With God all things are possible." He said "We are praying for God to heal these children and help us to care for them." And that was my breaking point. At that moment I may have caught a small glimpse of the heart of God. The God of whom it is written in Psalm 10:14, "The helpless put their trust in You. You defend the orphans." I had to leave the room due to the sobs welling up inside of me. After I collected myself I was drawn back into the room by this sign...
I had to look at those children again. I had to thank the workers standing at their sides. And now I have to find a way to live my life so that moment is close to me always. I should be different because I stood in that room. I should make a difference because I stood in that room.

It's time for a flashback. Back in January, we were in church singing "Mighty to Save". The last part of the first verse is "Everyone needs forgiveness, the kindness of a Savior, Hope of Nations. As I sang the word "nations", immediately my thoughts went to Ethiopia and orphans. Then came the chorus: “Savior, He can move the mountains My God is mighty to save, mighty to save…” I have considered this song before as it might relate to adoption that God is mighty to save the orphan.

But what God impressed on me so clearly in that moment is the one He is mighty to save through our adoption is ME. He will save me from my own self-absorbed life and open my eyes to a world of needs. He will care for me so I can care for our child(ren). He wants to show me Himself through this adventure. He will use my daughter in unimaginable ways in my life. I’m the one in need of rescue. I think there are many people who are drawn into the world of adoption because they are natural advocates and care for the world outside of themselves. Adoption is a by-product of that reality in their lives. I’m not in that category. I am self-absorbed and shallow much of the time. Adoption is the door my family has entered through to see more fully the heart of God. It is only a first step, albeit a huge one, toward changed lives. Not just Rediet's. Not just ours. But hopefully, somehow, others.

Back to my uncontrollable sobs in the orphanage. I was scared to be changed in Ethiopia. I know God called us to adopt. But I kind of wanted to get there, take my baby and run back to my safe little suburban world. I made it all the way until our last day there until God broke me. But standing in that room, I was undone. Broken for the orphans of Ethiopia. Broken for the orphans of the world. Broken for the ones who can't even see the signs of hope posted above their beds.

As we drove away from the orphanage, I had another experience that will always be with me. Whenever our van was stopped in traffic, we would be approached at every window by children and women begging for food or money. At one point a teenage girl approached asking for food. I had just given away my last peanut bar. She then moved to Bill's window. I prepared myself to have to say "no" to her again. But she had something different in mind. You see, Bill was holding Rediet and she was crying pretty hard. This sweet Ethiopian girl came to Bill's window to sing lullabies to her in Amharic. I was so moved by her selfless display of love.

I didn't want Ethiopia to change me. But God did. And I hope I will never be the same.