"God sets the lonely in families..."

I said goodbye to my girls last Friday before heading to Hyderabad. Its been almost two weeks, but it feels like far too long ago. As I sit here in Nashville, I'm struggling with sorting through all the thoughts going through my mind. My emotions are all over as I love seeing family and friends but miss these sweet faces so very much...

Alesa, Nora, and Phoebe

Every time I return to America, I'm amazed by how much "stuff" I have. As I look around my bedroom, I'm awe of all the things that serve no real purpose but to take up space. As I have laid my head to rest in my queen size bed this week, several nights I've laid here counting how many of my girls could squeeze into it to sleep like they do now (I decided 5 or 6 in case you're wondering :)...which is a very normal Indian thing to do). I know its silly, but it just reminds me of how much space so many of us have for those who need it shared with them. But do we have space in our hearts?

Our last night in Ongole, Caroline and I sat downstairs and ate dinner with the girls. As we were talking about us going home to America and a couple of my girls who will eventually join their adoptive families in America (thank You God!!), Hannah (my oldest- 15) looked at me and said in broken English, "Sister, what children are you taking to America? You take me? Please sister." My heart and my voice broke as I responded, "Oh baby, I can't take any children to America with me. I'm not old enough to adopt (you have to be 30 years old for Indian adoptions). If I could though, I would take all children with me, but that's why we pray for mommies and daddies." To this, Hannah replied, "But sister, who is going to take me to America? Who wants me?"

Her words continue to ring hollow in my ears and bring tears to my eyes as I sit and ponder them. Who is going to take her? Not just to take her to America but to take her to be loved and cherished as part of their family?

This week, as I've looked at pictures of my SCH kids, tears come to my eyes as my heart longs to be with them. "When coming back, sister?" was the question that I was asked over and over again when I said my goodbyes. Every time I would respond, "Soon, I just can't stay away for too long." But when is "soon"? When will I get to hug their necks again? When will I hold these babies close once more?

Christine, Genevieve, Hannah, and Zinnia

Honor

Gabe

Naomi

Zinnia

Jamila

As I've wondered these things, I've clung to Psalm 68:5-6a:

A Father to the fatherless,

a Defender of widows,

is God in His holy dwelling.

God sets the lonely in families.

...God sets the lonely in homes...I'm holding onto this promise and trusting God to fulfill it in my babies' lives. These words are the only things that bring me comfort at this moment. Selfishly, my heart longs for the day when I needn't travel all the way to India to see my girls. I daily ask their Father to give them an earthly father and mother. You see, I fully support and believe in everything that SCH and ND are doing in India and China, but my heart cries out for the day when their existence is unnecessary. I long to see the day when children aren't abandoned, but if/when they are, that the world, more importantly the church, loves them into their homes as their own children.

Thinking back to Hannah's questions, I'm faced with her story. At age 15, she's never known what most of us know as a "family." No mother or father, sisters or brothers. No grandparents to spoil her or cousins to play with. The only family she has really known are the girls she lives with now. And this little family she has is a beautiful thing indeed. Its wonderful to see how these girls look to her for so many things. As the oldest of the group, they ask her for advice. They follow her lead when praying and many of them even walk around calling her "Hannah-ama" ("Mother Hannah") when they're playing house sometimes.

Hannah finger painting at English Camp

Hannah trying a marshmallow at English Camp

I love my Hannah. And as much as I love having her within arm's reach when I'm in Ongole, I pray for the day when I can look at her with an answer to her questions about a family. I long for the day when she is no longer called "Hannah-ama" but instead has an "ama" (Telugu- "mother") to call her own. I truly believe that she and every child at SCH and throughout the world deserves to have a mom that helps her tidy up her room, who pulls out her school uniform every morning, and combs her hair for her when she just needs a mother's touch. Hannah only has one year left before she "ages out" of the Indian system to be able to be adopted (a child can no longer be adopted after the age of 16), but I am choosing to believe that God can provide a family for her in His perfect timing.

I know that adoption is a calling. And I know that not everyone is called to it. But I firmly believe that it is our responsibility to pray for these children and for the families that God is preparing for them, whether it is our own family or not.

So as my journey comes to an end once again, I ask you to dream, hope and pray with me. Dream of these children's beautiful smiles and praise our Father for each one of their lives. Hope for the day when they don't have to be "moms" and "dads" for one another. And pray, above all else, for the day when God gives them and all the forgotten and abandoned little ones of the world, families with moms and dads and brothers and sisters. But until that day, I give thanks for places like SCH and the opportunity to be a part of their family and love them like they so dearly deserve to be. And until next time when I get to hold these girls again, I continue to agree with the psalmist who said:

Many, Lord my God,

are the wonders You have done,

the things You planned for us.

None can compare with You;

 were I to speak and tell of Your deeds,

they would be too many to declare.

Psalm 40:5 

My 12 :)