Somewhere Out There

Somewhere out there sleeps a little boy who recently learned of his new American family.

I'm not an emotional person by nature - in fact I'm known around my office as being "rigid" and extremely Type A. I am not stirred by heartfelt stories, nor do I empathize the way I wish I could. However, I must tell you that I got a little teary eyed reading the below message from our case worker. Although simple in nature, I was touched by the content.

I'm not a childhood expert and I'm certainly not an expert on parenting, but I must take this opportunity to express what a privilege it has been to adopt an older child. When Todd and I set out to adopt, I was asked every question known to man, "Can you not have children of your own?" and "Are you afraid you won't love him the way you would love a biological child?" The questions themselves do not bother me, as everyone has a right to ask questions, but what bothers me is that adoption is viewed by many as a last resort - not as an opportunity to heed a call.

To be honest, I am filled with gratitude on this quest to adopt an older child. I feel honored and excited to have been afforded the chance to take him to kindergarten, to teach him to ride a bike and the complexity of the English language. I look forward to reading him bedtime stories and playing Candy Land....but most of all, as selfish as it sounds, I look forward to receiving the type of love and acceptance only a child can provide an adult.

I commend parents who raise infants and surround them with love; we need more parents who take this responsibility seriously. But, there is a special place in my heart for parents who take on the role of raising a child who might otherwise be "forgotten". It is my firm belief that the plot of land on which you were born, and the quality of the roof above your head should not determine your quality of life - but rather, life should be about each of us maximizing our potential and human spirit to the best of our ability.

To speak about adoption in terms of infertility and one's ability to love a child who is not biolgoically theirs, is ridiculous. The subject of human life deserves so much more reverence than this. We adopt because we are blessed with opportunity to be a part of something bigger than ourselves - and if the God I know and love is capable of loving a lost sheep like myself, there's hope that I will find all the strength and confidence I need to pass it on to Samuel.

Someone said to me, "Knowing that you aren't infertile makes your adopting more admirable." I laughed...admirable? Samuel's mom - that's who we should admire. A woman who wanted so much for her son that she was willing to let him move to another country so that he could develop into the man he was destined to be. Adoption isn't about becoming a hero - it's about meeting and extending your home to heroes.

I complain when I'm not recognized enough at work, when there's nothing good on television, when people don't put up their shopping carts at the grocery store. Samuel finds contentment in rice and orange soda; he dreams of kindergarten, loves to build things and finds happiness in his friendships despite the fact that materially - he has nothing. The truth is, he doesn't need me to teach him nearly as much as I need him to teach me.

Letter sent to our caseworker:

Samuel got the Treat family’s letter today. Abiy (one of our Gladney workers) delivered it to him this evening. Abiy said that Samuel was very excited, and that he told Abiy he was happy! Abiy also mentioned that Samuel was glad there were pictures.