A Letter

One of the hard things about going into an orphanage in Ukraine to adopt a child or two is the wishing you could come away with several. We actually carried three dossiers with us - just in case. There were some other children, one in particular, whom I had met last year when I first saw our boys.

I had put it to Bob, but he felt we were not to get three. Still, I carried three pictures in my wallet. When we actually went there, I saw the third, and I had to do something hard. Steel my heart, at the same time as being friendly. I had written, but I hoped that I had never given the impression that I would come some day and adopt him.

God kindly made this one scarse during our time there, and we gathered our dear Peter and James and bundled everyone off to Kiev and the plane back to America. When we got home I felt lousy about continuing to write him. How could I write, when we had left him behind?

Well, I got busy and just didn't. Having the new boys home was a handful, and when I did send off a note, our missionary friend said she just didn't see him anywhere around.

Time passed and so did a birthday. A sixteenth birthday means a child can no longer be adopted. Sigh. If I let my heart go there, I would cry my eyes out. So I didn't... until someone sent me a picture...

Then yesterday I got a letter. The first question was, "Did you forget me?" No, my dear, I remembered you every day for the past year. I whispered a prayer from a little spot of hurt deep in my heart. I asked Jesus to touch you and give you a good day.

We are still friends, and writing again. I now have a chance to love another "son" from a distance. Thank you, Lord, for emails and for missionaries there it translate them.

Who knows what the future will hold, even for a child who is too old to be be adopted.