Frustrated but Praying

I’m frustrated. There are so many things that are frustrating. I see them first hand each day, my Facebook newsfeed is full of them, and there are so many more I have no idea about. A baby dies because the family doesn’t have money to feed it, a shooting happens in a public place, children do not have parents, people are diagnosed with cancer and so much more.

I read an article the other day (http://www.prweb.com/releases/2014/06/prweb11951808.htm) where a ten year old boy that has cerebral palsy (non mobile and non verbal) wrote a $250,000 business proposal. He wrote it using his eyes. He is not able to do the things many of us take for granted each day but he is smart. There is technology that allows him to tell the world the thoughts that are going on inside his head.

I want this for our kids. We have 10 children that are similar to him; a few may walk one day and a few may talk one day, but we don’t know. I want them to be able to communicate with us—to tell us what they are thinking; I want them to have their own voice. I’m working on developing a plan to educate them so they can learn the things a child should know, but I don’t really know how. I’ve googled and pinterested and have ideas but I don’t know what I am doing. I’m frustrated that I do not have this knowledge to help our kids unleash what they are capable of.

We have made great progress in the last year and a few months. Our kids get various forms of physical therapy. I’ve been collecting supplies and researching ways to teach our kids colors, shapes, and other basics. We have had incredible visiting therapists come and teach us new things.

Our 15 children with varying special needs do not yet have families waiting for them—this frustrates me most of all. Living in another country they would have access to doctors, speech therapists, occupational therapists, and physical therapists (not to mention PARENTS) to help them become their best. Here we do not have anyone specifically trained to do that…just some of us learning as we go. I’m frustrated we don’t have each of these available for them. I’m frustrated I don’t have the knowledge in each of these areas to know what best to do. I’m frustrated one of our kids has been here for six years now and is still waiting for a family to call him their son and their brother. I’m frustrated another 5 year old with minimal but undiagnosed special needs has been here several years and still doesn’t have a family. These children are still waiting to learn what a mom and a dad are. I’m frustrated with how hard it is for children with special needs to get adopted—they are children too. Labels frustrate me—they take away from the abilities our children do have.

It is a commitment, but our kids are worth it. Their smiles, their laughter, and the way their eyes light up when someone interacts with them are all priceless. When a child can finally sit on their own at five years old, another one starts moving his head and eyes back and forth to follow a toy at three years old, one is almost walking at two and a half, a child starts feeding themselves snacks at three years, another holds out one finger on his own during “This Little Light of Mine” at four years old, or when a five year old can finally start matching the pieces on a wooden puzzle you find joy you never knew you had. You rejoice in the little things just as much as you would the big things for your other children. A volunteer recently took on the task of compiling short videos to show what our kids can do and they are absolutely adorable. I don’t know how one can watch one of the videos and not want to bring that child into their home.

Not knowing exact diagnosis, not knowing why a child has seizures, not knowing how to help a child gain more strength in certain muscles, not knowing where to start to begin educating a seven year old who has never had formal education and does not yet know how to respond to your questions, not knowing when their families will find them, not knowing how long they will live, not having the equipment I would like or sometimes not even knowing the equipment that would be useful---it’s all frustrating.

You see, I know our kids have stories inside their heads. They have wants, needs, and desires they yearn to communicate. Sometimes we aren’t listening in the right way, but sometimes they don’t know how to get it out. If our seven year old who has been here six years was able to go to his forever family four years ago how would his life be different? Would he be communicating what is inside his head, would he weigh more, would he be walking or crawling? Would he be in a regular school?

When we have 38 kids it is hard to get to know all of them. It is hard to spend time with each of them every day even though we would like to. We know a lot about them, but there is so much more we could know if we just had a few in our families. This is why our kids need families. They deserve to be the center of attention more often than we physically can provide, they deserve to have one set of people who knows them inside and out, they deserve to have one set of people who can take them to doctor appointments and therapy appointments, they deserve to have people who can focus at home therapy on them. They deserve more.

I love our kids and I know many others do too but it is that love that makes me want to find them all homes. It is frustrating how easy it is to find homes for our “typical” children but so hard to find them for ones who have more apparent needs. I’ve cried over the fact that these kids have been waiting so long and we want so badly for them to have families just like our “typical” children are easily matched with.

There will always be frustrations in this world. The easiest thing to do is to become numb.

Become numb to the person on the street who walks miles and miles with holes in their shoes

To the countless people who have tried to hand their baby to me just because I am white (and the hundreds more who have tried to leave their child at our orphanage)

To the neighbor that is suffering from depression

To the single mom who messed up a few too many times

To the window washers who try to use their dirty towels to clean your car windows for a few cents

To the widow in church

To the parent who had to bury their child

To the student who falls asleep in school every day

To the child who needs a home

To a friend who has wronged you

To a waitress who does a horrible job but really needs a good tip

To a family member who has been kicked out

To the person that smells

To the McDonald’s worker who has a life too

To the person raising money for this or that

To the millions and millions of other problems in this world.

“If I forget about them they are not my problem.” “I can’t change them all so why should I try?” “That stinks, I am so lucky to have what I have.” “Someone else will do it.” “Glad that isn’t my problem.” “Its too hard.” “I don’t even know where to begin.”

We’ve all had those thoughts. We all want the world to be a better place but it is just so hard. We want to spend our money the way we want to spend our money. We want to spend our time the way we want to spend our time. We want to live our own little lives and not worry about the problems that other people are having.

For me, these people are my everyday life. I can’t just hear “thousands of people are starving each day” and let it out of my mind because I have seen it, heard it, smelt it, held it, and mourned it. I’ve seen swollen bodies or skinny babies, I’ve heard the stories with tears in eyes, I’ve smelt rotting flesh, I’ve held children as they have taken their last breath, and I have cried at the loss of a life as we watch their casket get covered with dirt.

I can’t just hear “children need homes” because I know them. I know their names, what they like to do, what makes them smile or what makes them mad, where they have come from, and I love them. Their faces are engraved in my memory and children I have held and hugged. I get to celebrate each birthday wishing their parents were able to celebrate with them. I’ve cried myself to sleep at night wishing, praying, and hoping their families find them soon. Even though I do not want to say goodbye I know that a family is what is best for each of our kids in our care. I hope and pray that the families that God has chosen for each one of our kids cannot just hear this but know they have to take action.

All these frustrations make me want to beg Jesus to come back to take us all home. It makes me glad that this world is not my home.

But they also make me rely on Jesus. A friend once told me that each morning she has to wake up and pray that God would give her the compassion he has for the people around her so her eyes and her heart don’t become too hardened. We have to stop and ask Jesus what his purpose is in all of this. We have to stop and ask God what our purpose is in all of this. We have to step up and do something.

And for fifteen little people, we are praying that someone’s “do something” means adopting a child with special needs. Praying it means they are willing to accept the challenge and love outside their comfort zone. Praying they are willing to take the risk, trusting that the reward will follow. What is your "do something?"