She Had a Dream. Or Was it a Nightmare?

It was an upscale venue, there were plush chairs lining the walls. The banquet table entertained and sustained a gathering of men and women laughing without a care in the world. These couples had their well dressed children nearby as they enjoyed family time with friends. There were other children too, children from China. These host children, specific individual souls, were gathered in the middle of the room where these families were engaging. What a brilliant and wonderful event to have families and orphans together for a meet and greet!

In the midst of this, at the heart of it, there was a problem. A dark, brooding problem.

They wouldn’t touch them.

This happy scene wasn’t happy at all, the families were along the outskirts of the room, the host children were separated from them. The families wouldn’t talk to, touch, or even look at the children. Mothers, previously laughing and eating, sternly yanked their children away. “No, no. We don’t talk to them.”

What a nightmare.

I haven’t always been all about orphan care, but I have always been about the care and keeping of children. I’ve always been about motherhood. While in highschool I set my heart and my life in order, lined up – for motherhood, for the care of children.

Sometimes, I’ll be walking by a child of mine and think – what if they were alone? This little human, one I know so well, one I love, WHAT IF they had NO ONE? I wonder if mine have what it takes, if they have enough fire and spunk in them to survive. I praise God they’ve never had to; they’ve always been known, always been loved.

There’s one thing I know, that I’m confident of: I am not special. My children are not special. My country is not special. There is nothing in me, my children or my country that are not completely and utterly undeserving of everything we’ve been blessed with. Family. Love. Care. We deserve, have a right to, have earned – NONE of this.

So, who am I to think that my child deserves a happy summer filled with laughter, swimming, popsicles, and FAMILY LOVE – more than these little faces before me? What inconvenience will it require from me that I am ABOVE? What small spark of hope might be planted in the heart of a child?

When I see my son walk around with the photo of another boy pasted onto his shirt in a plea to host him, when my daughter shares her dreams, when I see all my 7 rally around in a large campaign to explain how perfectly easy it would be for us to take in another child, or another several children… I’m in awe. These who do the extra work, who give things up – their things – to make another child comfortable… these kids, being the hands and feet of Jesus. These kids, who have seen it’s not so difficult or scary after all, that lending a hand – or a pair of socks – is not so difficult.

My daughter spoke of her dream in animated words until she faltered to a stop, “They wouldn’t touch them.” She continued her story in hushed tones, the weight of her words not lost on either of us. The question on her heart is my question too: how to reach the hearts of others, how to make them see? How to live it out before others in a way that will inspire action?

The stark reality is this: My daughter woke up from her nightmare; the kids she dreams about – don’t.

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Nightlight is searching for families in Kentucky and So. California to host these children for 3 weeks. They are awesome adoptable kids – watch the video to see for yourself! To receive a Hosting Packet with detailed info about the program, email your request to dana@nightlight.org.

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