Saturday, January 10, 2009
I'm having a hard time.
Today, I cannot stop thinking about the elementary school kids and babies I met in South Africa. I'm exhausted. Every face I encountered has been playing through the video tape in my head. The 4th grader who lost both his parents to AIDS. The 5th grader who cares for her 3 younger siblings because her mother is ill. The boy who wept uncontrollably when we left because his parents had perished the summer before and he couldn't bear the thought of Jonathan, one of our team members, leaving him.
Whenever I close my eyes, I can imagine the kids from Durban playing with Alex and Caleb. I've been imagining scenarios like registering my newly adopted daughter for school and cheering for my newly adopted son's t-ball game.
My son. My daughter.
I've spent the day doing research about the possibility of international adoption from South Africa. The prospects are grim. Even though South Africa has one of the highest rates of HIV/AIDS and consequentially, one of the highest rates of orphans, the country is largely closed to international adoption. I want these kids. I want them in my home, in my family, in my community. Yet, there's not a lot I can do. While millions of children in South Africa are orphaned each year, only 2,000 or so are adopted into families. There are huge roadblocks. Huge obstacles. Seemingly insurmountable challenges.
I'm pretty sure, though, that God is famous for making the unthinkable happen, for transforming impossibility into the miraculous.
So, tonight, I pray. I'm hitting my knees, petitioning the Creator, in fact, begging that doors will open, that I and my church will be permitted to parent these children, to love them and give them new life.