So,
you know that feeling you have when you are sitting in the seat of a roller
coaster right as it leaves the loading dock? Up until that point, even though
you are all strapped in and locked down, you can still bail out. You can still
raise your hands and kick and scream and cry like a baby (a hungry angry baby)
and they will let you off. But once the brake is released and the coaster
begins to roll down the tracks, you are committed. You are going to be in that
seat until the ride comes to a complete and safe stop at the loading dock.
That
is the feeling I had this past week when I was thinking about Kitijah and
Indijah. They were showing me their city on Google Earth. They showed me their
school and where they had art classes. They showed me where they lived before
going to the “child house” and then they showed me the “child house”. It was just
a brown square among other squares, but they knew the address. I was looking at
a bird’s eye view of their “home”. Their orphanage was a real place in a real
city full of real children.
I
was struck with the realization that we are committed to these girls, no matter
what happens. Our lives are intertwined now. There are hopes and dreams now.
There is responsibility and accountability. There is shared pain, shared fear, and shared
joy. There is love.
I
cannot say if they can or will be adopted. There are a lot of things that need
to be resolved for that to happen. I cannot say if they will be allowed to come
back next summer. There is so much that is unknown in their future and ours. I
just hope they know that we will be with them no matter what comes and no
matter where they are. I hope they know we love them.
"Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to love one another." 1 john 4:11
