Hopper

The orphan insanity continues!  Just to fill in those who are interested: My older sister, Amy, had signed up to be a prayer warrior for Bernadette.  Who's Bernadette, you ask?  Just the most adorable fifteen year old imaginable.  Take a peek:

Wwwwwhhhhaaaattttt!!!!!  She was so excited to have her picture taken.  Of course, we would never have guessed based on that spectacular smile, eh? Bernadette currently resides in an adult mental institution in Eastern Europe.  She will be turning sixteen in November and would be considered an "adult" in the eyes of the State and therefore not be available to be adopted.  Each region in each of these countries has their own way of doing things.  While some regions forbid adoptions once the child turns four or five, others make exceptions.  For example, the little girl at the adult mental institution in the Diane Sawyer video named "Masha" has recently been put up for adoption.  The director of the institution made a special exception in her case because of her newfound fame and put her up for adoption on a trial basis.  Pray, pray, pray that Masha gets adopted!  Anyhoo, after a couple of weeks of incessant tears over Bernadtte, we just received word that a family will be officially committing to her soon!  O my gosh!!!  Some people are AMAZING.  Now, all credit to my sister, she was preparing to speak at a church this weekend about Bernadette and has cried the tears of a mother over this child.  Amy would have committed to Bernadette herself but the country Bernadette resides in forbids single women to adopt.  Whatev.  All hope is not lost, though.  Some sweet family saw her picture and fell in love.  We look forward to following this family's journey to pick up their beautiful girl.  Bernadette, you will not spend the rest of your life in an institution.  YOU, my friend, will be part of a family.  Where you belong, girl.  Sniffle. 

The news front on Colton isn't quite as dramatic.  Pleasant but not dramatic.  I received an updated picture of him.  Let me pull out my virtual wallet and show you:

Always dressed in green, this little one!  Therefore, I have affectionately nicknamed him my little "Grasshopper" or "Hopper" for short.  Everybody knows I love me some nickname action.  Hopper seems a bit thinner here.  Not sure if that's just because he's older or if I should definitely hit the panic button.

They had BETTER be feeding Hopper or I might just lose the last couple of marbles rolling around in my spacious cabeza.  Of course, it also worries me a bit that he's laying down in both photographs.  And then there's the obvious fact that he's not smiling in both photos.  As you can see, I worry about Hopper like he's my own.  Every night I tell my guardian angel to tell his guardian angel that he has a secret admirer.  Hoping the message isn't lost in translation.  He obviously doesn't look like he's just heard he has a secret admirer, now does he?  Hmmmm.   I want so bad to pick him up and hold him and say, "Hopper!  Why the frown, little guy?" or "Hopper!  Do you know you are loved?"  I want to shout it from the rooftops, actually.  Something along the lines of: "Hopper!  Someone cares if you live or die!  Even if every single thing in your life points to the opposite, someone cares intensely about your life."  I can't help it.  I hear what the orphanages are like.  That they're eerily silent, because the children give up their voices quickly when they realize no one is listening.  That right there is enough to make me vomit.  

     Then, there's the malnutrition thing.  Here's an example.  A family just adopted a little Down Syndrome boy from Eastern Europe.  They already have a Down Syndrome boy and the two are ten WEEKS apart.  Get a load of the difference in size:

The one in the red shirt is their biological son.  The one on the right is the newly adopted little boy.  These kids are ten weeks apart in age.  Is that not unbelievable?  You hear about malnutrition and stunted growth due to neglect, but to see it is astonishing.  Human beings need touch to thrive.  To survive, actually.  These kids get the bare minimum.  

    All this information got me thinking, of course.  I'm doing my best to spread the word.  I'm praying fervently.  I'm studying our budget like I'm cramming for the MCAT, all to find ways to cut back so we can give more.  I feel overwhelmed at times, to be honest.  I feel like sometimes people think, "Who would want to adopt these kids?" even though they don't say it.  I know that with an abortion rate of 92% for babies testing positive for Down Syndrome in utero puts the odds against this mission.  After all, it seems many are resorting to murder to avoid even having a biological child with this type of special needs.  And, please, don't even start with the whole "it's not a person yet" crap.  I'm tired of the lies.  So very, very tired.  In trying my hardest to give these kids a voice, I find my patience with ridiculous propaganda at an all time low.  Just warning you.  

    The other day, as I was rambling off my list of things I'm thankful for, I had a revelation. No, not a vision.  Not even an inner locution.  Just a bright light bulb hopefully lit by something divine.  I thanked God for my home, my family, plenty of food, a nice car that is very convenient with kids, a big backyard and plenty of other things.  As I finished my litany, it hit me.  Hopper has NONE of these things.  It's not just that I have health insurance and he doesn't.  Or I have a house and he doesn't.  Or I have plenty of food and he doesn't.  The terrible reality is that I have many, many, many things and he has.....nothing.  Even the clothes he wears are the property of the orphanage.  That made me incredibly sad.  I have a problem giving up my addiction to McDonald's caramel frappe.  He has never tasted anything but a thickened concoction they feed them out of bottles.   This makes my eyes start to water.  I feel terribly selfish.  And don't pat me on my virtual back and tell me I'm too hard on myself, either.  No, sorry, I'm not.  It's time I woke up to this.  And, no, I don't consider myself a socialist.  There are severe injustices in this world and I don't want the government telling me to give more, I want my own heart telling me to give more.  

    While we increase the never-ending list of things we "must have", many people are struggling to exist.  Cell phones, retirement, savings for our kids college tuition, and all the rest of it.  I see it now.  These are luxuries many, many people in the world can't even conceive of.  We continue to box ourselves in with fear of future while the hungry of today stay hungry.  We lament another economic downturn while orphans stay lonely.  We save up money for our retirement in thirty years (if we even live that long- I'm getting downright morbid now) while many go without clean water.  What the h-e-l-l are we doing?  I know if you're like me, sometimes you just want to throw money at some charity and not be bothered anymore.  Cory, my resident professional in the fundraising world, calls it "donor fatigue."  Now that we're in the same business :), I have my own feelings about donor fatigue (and, let me say, Cory does not necessarily feel this way).  I am much, ahem, more "spicier" that he is.  But I'll tell you what I tell myself when I'm feeling like there's so many charities asking for money- get used to it.  It's what happens when you live better than almost everyone else on the planet.  The minute we start to feel sorry for ourselves as we're burdened once again by the poor, that's the moment we can safely realize we have lost touch.  

     I don't want to be selfish anymore.  I'm weary of asking myself, even subconsciously, what would make me happy.  I want Hopper to have a family.  I want Bernadette to know she's got a smile that lights up the darkest of nights.  I want little Ruslan,

 already transferred to the institution, to know that I'm sorry.  I'm sorry I haven't cared enough until now.  I'm sorry that I've been living a very comfortable life when all you really want is someone to call your own.  I'm sorry, Ruslan.  In some small but powerful way, I take responsibility for you.  And I cry while I type this because in my deepest of hearts, I know it to be true.  I've cared about myself for so long and nurtured my own dreams while others lay lying at my gate.  Forgive me, Ruslan.  

The Lottery

     I don't even know where to begin.  My life has literally been turned upside down this past month or so.  All because of this face:

 

I know, what a CUTIE!!!! He's one of the orphans on Reece's Rainbow (reecesrainbow.org), a ministry that focuses on awareness and fundraising for kids with special needs that are up for adoption in other countries.  Why don't we have a program like this in the US? Because there is a waiting list of about 300 families that want to adopt Down Syndrome babies.  We don't need it.  In some countries, special needs kids go to adult mental institutions at the age of four if they are not adopted.  About 80% of those sent to these institutions DIE within the first year from neglect.  There are just NO resources for families with these kids and they are seen as outcasts and not capable of having any kind of meaningful potential.  Well, you know I know different.  And so do a lot of other people.  We know that extra chromosome is something that makes that individual unique and special.  Something that makes them need to be treasured even more, not thrown away.  But that's what's happening.  

      Here's the thing.  I can watch a program, like, Whale Wars, and when they fish that

 big ol' blubbering whale out of his little, okay huge, spot in the ocean, I'm horrified.  When they kill the big fish and it starts to bleed I usually start to cry.  I start to think about the whale's mom and dad or maybe it's little baby whale that won't know where it is and I start to get choked up.  Then I get really mad at Japan.  Then I realize that not all Japanese people hunt whales so I stop being mad at Japan.  Then the show goes to a commercial and I go look for Doritos in the pantry and offer my hubby some and we might change the channel or we might continue to watch the whale carnage.  Okay, that's pretty normal, huh?  

    On the opposite side of the spectrum, there's my reaction to seeing orphans suffer.  I get a link from ABC news tonight with Diane Sawyer and I watch this: (*If the video doesn't work on this blog, you can access it here- http://reecesrainbow.org/background/in-the-news )

and I want to do this:

You get where I'm going with this?  I start sobbing so hard I can't even watch the end of the program.  I'm mad at Diane Sawyer ('how could you have done this story and not kidnapped a couple of kids while you were there?? What were you thinking?  Have you no heart, Diane?').  I'm mad at my husband ('Did you really just ask me to go get Doritos?  How could you think of your stomach at a time like this???' and then I go and grab the Doritos and open the back door and throw them outside to put an exclamation point to my disgust).  I'm mad at the world, begging for God to just blow us up and release us all from our misery- even though I was pretty content with life ten minutes ago, before I saw Diane.  I'm mad at Eastern Europe.  I'm mad at everyone.  I cry so hard I can't speak and then, after I calm myself down,  I tell my husband we're going to adopt.  No....literally.  If you think I'm joking, you don't know me very well.  Husband starts to sweat and says words like "maybe we should calm down first" and "I'd hate to make a rash decision" and I look at him like he's got three heads and a heart full of ice.  My eyes narrow and I pretty much groan the words, "You are NOT telling me we can't adopt a special needs child, are you?" and husband starts to back track a little and gets a cool rag for my exploding forehead and he rubs my arm and tells me everything will be okay and that all rats from a ten mile radius are in our backyard eating Doritos and I threaten him to make a big deal out of it.  Husband realizes he cannot rationalize with me for the next couple of days and so he backs off and I retreat into my little dark world.  So, you see?  I GO NUTS, people.  And I'm as serious as a heart attack. 

   So, after I cried for a couple of days and told God I was really, really mad at Him for creating the world, I decided it was time to act.  I put on a fresh pair of clothes, brushed my hair, and went to buy a lottery ticket.  It's what all passionate people do.  We gamble away all of our money to try and help the needy.  I had gone on Reece's Rainbow and signed up to be a Prayer Warrior for a little guy named "Colton" in the Ukraine.  Well, little does Colton know, but he hit the adoption jackpot when we picked him.  Because, as I said, I'm crazy and crazy people are annoying but we GIT 'ER DONE.  And let me tell you, I'm on the warpath.  We donated $20 to his account and husband said we could do that every month.  That was good for me for about twenty seconds.  I saw his account go up, I got excited, and then I got impatient.   "There's no way I can wait a whole month to see his account go up! He's going to think nobody loves him!"  Of course, little Colton is not yet two years old so he doesn't have a clue he even has an account, but you know, I know.  So, I decided I needed to win the Powerball.  It was the only logical conclusion to not having enough money to help the orphans.  God could fix the numbers and I could get the money and start funding adoptions like crazy and move to the Ukraine and rebuild the orphanages and hire enough staff for every kid to have a personal caretaker and.....well, you get the idea.  The only problem was, God wasn't holding up His end of the bargain.  He wasn't fixing the numbers.  Can you believe?  I know.  If faith is having your jaw hit the floor when you don't win the Powerball, I got plenty of dat.  I glared up at the sky one too many times these past couple of weeks, snarling, "I thought You said You loved the orphans????"  I did win $40 in scratch offs when I became desperate but even that started to pale in comparison to the extreme urgency of the situation.  I started to get upset and crawled back into my little black hole once again.  I was mad at everybody.  Cory wouldn't adopt, God wouldn't fix the lottery, people weren't lining up outside my house to organize a coup d'etat of Eastern European countries so I could become president and change the situation of the orphanages.  All my dreams were going up in smoke.  It was all going to pot.  

    And then.  Something happened!  I posted a link to Facebook.  Begging.  Looking for a spark.  Looking for some sort of response.  And a little light flickered.  A former student, Cherie, donated $20.  My cousin, Katie, said she would send out a mass email asking for money- which brought in $120.  My little flame started to get some much-needed oxygen.  I started to think, 'Well maybe everyone hasn't abandoned the orphans.'  Hope kind of made its way back into my heart.  So, here I am, trying to blog about it.  Trying to get people to 'go crazy' with me.  Are you out there, crazy people?  Will you help me help them before I'm the one who really needs help?  I'm desperate, people.  Desperate.  I can't look at the pictures on Reece's Rainbow any longer and not do everything in my power to help them (Prov. 3:27 "Do not withhold good from those who deserve it, when it is in your power to help").  This train is pulling out the station and I'm about to run over anybody who gets in my way.  Jump on, crazies, we're going on a little joyride.  Either that or we'll end up in a Eastern European prison and my children will learn about me through episodes of Locked Up Abroad.  Whatever.  

   Take a look at this video.  My husband and I put some of the kids from Reece's Rainbow on it to show you just some of the faces that are just waiting to be rescued, to be loved.  I also put some of the before and after pictures of kids who have been adopted.  Miraculous.  I cry every time.  Watch:

     In all seriousness, this is the plan I'm hatching.   I'm looking for people to pledge.  We're going to pledge $50 a month (or whatever you can afford) and, I was thinking, if we could just find ten other families or individuals willing to do the same we could go crazy on some orphans.  That would be $500 a month!  We could all pick one child to pray for and donate to until either they get adopted or their funds reach $2500- when they reach that amount they get put on the "Sizeable Grants" list which is really cool and really gives them a good chance of being chosen.  Then, we would pick another child.  Get it?  Doesn't that sound awesome???!?!?  If it doesn't work and kids aren't getting adopted, then we kidnap.  What?  Woos.  Of course, we need to watch every episode of Bear Grylls just in case we end up in the Ukrainian wilderness with several special needs children.  Be prepared.  Seriously, anybody wanna hop on this runaway train?  I need help.  We could do amazing things together, you-me-and God.  Get crazy.
   One last little thought.  Have you ever seen a picture of Jesus carrying the cross and think to yourself, "Gosh, I wish I was there.  I would have helped him!  I would have bust through the crowd and helped him a bit."  Well, here's your Jesus:

His name is John Mark.  And Jesus is still carrying his cross through the life of this child.  The loneliness of Christ did not cease to exist at the moment of His death.  It exists in each and every person who fails to know what love is.   Have you ever seen the pictures of the Holocaust and thought, "Why didn't anybody stand up???  Where were all the good people to put and end to the suffering?"  Well, here's your Auschwitz:

Little Nathan.  Seven years old and not a shred of hope in his red-rimmed eyes.  Made to stay in a crib all day long, fed only potato water, a suffering soul of the deepest kind.  Do we really believe every life is sacred?  What about his?  The Cross is still being carried, the horrors of Auschwitz haven't really ended.  They just take on a different face in every generation.  But the question remains, who will rise up?

     Fire me an email at senoritamolly@yahoo.com if you want to join the group.  Then we'll vote on cool names for our group.  I'm calling Chick-fil-A tomorrow to see what their fundraising policy is.  They like the Bible over there, and the Bible likes orphans.  It's a slam dunk.  I'm sure you'll start to see their cows holding pictures of orphans soon.  Dream big.

P.S. If ANY of you would EVER consider adopting one of these precious children, I hereby solemnly swear that I will become your Fundraising Director and make sure you get lots of money.   Do not let money get in the way of the dreams of your heart.  God will provide (Just don't play the lotto- He doesn't seem to dig it).