What’s a Life Worth?
This book is so important to me that I am willing to share my feelings and the children who have been in our care. There are no names, nor are there any instances that will expose them to others. They are the innocent ones here in these instances. The episodes here are truthfully represented, and the feelings I sometimes have, are blunt and honest. If you take on the work, you are bound to have some of the same feelings. My feelings are sometimes not the portrait of a Christian, BEING in the manner of Christ. They are, however, feelings of a man of Christ, who has let the human way of thinking creep in. I have tried to always let God help me push these feelings aside and deal with them in a Christian manner. I would not lead you to believe that it was easy or that it did not take time.
#1
She came to us that evening. We had been expecting her for three or four days. We thought we were prepared; we always try, yet we really never are. We did not know what the experience would be like; you never do. We did not know what the situation would be, nor what it had been. She stood in the door with a parent, silhouetted against the spring sky. She was there with long, stirred black hair; her dirty hands hung to her side with a bottle. There were tears streaming down her face, leaving clean streaks where they had trailed and fell on the one nasty blouse she had. She was less than three and had already experienced this before. I raised her face to speak to her, all I could see was that long lost look in those deep brown eyes. She was a beautiful child, but none of it had ever been let out. The best I could tell is that no one had ever cared. There were no formalities. Those had all been handled the week before. There were no warnings or preparations for what was to come next. Her mother hugged her, said goodbye, and left. She was fear struck, weeping uncontrollably. To her there was no consolation. She was abandoned.
We work first to help her adjust and trust and just be three years old. I never ask or demand that a child call me daddy or father. At that age however, kids want a daddy and a mother. I have become a daddy to that child and do what daddies do. I aggravate and tease and try to teach her that parents are for support, but she still has doubt. The next statement is completely off the wall. In the excitement of play, I tell her she’s, ugly, only in jest and fun and out of forgetfulness. I am the one taken in surprise, with one simple statement “I KNOW.” I was embarrassed, hurt, shattered, I had caused her pain. I spent the next moments in an apology and telling her how beautiful and wonderful she was. I never wanted her to forget it and I never wanted her to let anyone tell her differently. It might come as a surprise, but I continued to play that game with her. I would call her ugly, but now she knew it was a game and she knew the answer. She would always counter with a loud adamant “I NOT.” She has become beautiful and confident in herself. She has lived with us ten years. We have become parents to her. There is one note, I have never had one child who does not still want their real mother. It is the way God makes us. It is natural that a child has a birth bond. These are things we may not understand, but they are there. We all have that bond, and it is instinct. In a perfect world that’s as it should be.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
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