I don't know if it is the fact that I have lost a child. Or the fact that I have lived the miracle of adoption.
It could be my age. Maybe the fact that I am a woman.
But I think it is just that I am a human. Humans feel things for each other.
This week my heart is fixed for hours every day -- on the TV, online or in conversations.
Haiti. Beautiful island nation.
Beautiful people. Determined faces, elegant high cheekbones. Skin just a shade or two lighter than ebony. My children have three
beautiful friends who were born there. And they are stunning.
Strong people. You know, they were cruelly enslaved for years in their own country. And, as slaves, they won their independence through a slave rebellion.
Today they are enslaved by debris, by lack of water and shelter, by the presence and smell, everywhere they look, of death. They are at risk of falling prey to diseases.
To add to the misfortune of the Haitian people, in more recent years they have been enslaved by the lack of infrastructure and leadership and the country is rife with corruption. I have learned from my friends in the Dominican Republic that even now, in this time of crisis, port authorities cannot be trusted to get relief supplies where they are needed.
To add to an already overwhelming burden on caretakers, there will be even more orphans now. I'm watching their innocent faces, many bleeding, with no caring parent standing nearby the comfort them. I saw one little boy laying on a makeshift bed who said both feet hurt very bad and that his little brother is dead. He nods to another bed near him at another severely wounded sibling.
And he is there, in the midst of the medical professionals around him having to go to the most serious first,
bearing all of this
A
lone(insert mind's eye picture of your child here in his stead).
There are hundreds of waiting adoptive families here in the U.S. who have already gone through the red tape and know who their Haitian child is. The wait has probably already been too long. Will this cause their wait to be even longer? Where are their dossiers and all of the other paperwork they have already finished?
CALL YOUR LOCAL LAWMAKERS and ask them to help with this issue. Please tell them to facilitate "humanitarian parole" for these children. Their parents have already had home studies, much or all paperwork is done but may be lost for an undetermined time, or permanently. This will get the kids here while all of the paperwork is sorted out and it will make room for other orphans who will be needing somewhere to live and be loved.
Have you ever thought about adoption? Are you willing to give up your empty nest or your perfect life or your kid's private school or lessons, or your big chain coffee drinks and brand name clothing, or your skimped-for retirement
for a child? ADOPTION IS A MIRACLE. Even if you have never considered it before, please open your heart today and ask God if this is something new He will do in your lives.
We need to get ready. In the next few years, the need for adoptions will increase.
Please keep your eyes on this effort to bring hundreds, possibly thousands, of Haitian orphans to this country. They may eventually need adoptive homes, will likely need foster homes.
Here are some agencies where you can get started on your adoption research:
Holt International (Long standing, reputable agency)
New Life Link (Two families we know have adopted through the gentleman who runs this
This poem was written by a lady upon her return home from her first missions trip to Haiti several years ago. It paints such a thought provoking picture. I thought it said alot.
May God enable you to go beyond
your comfort zone.
The Call of a Distant Land by Laura Gleaton
The people of this distant land had seemed so far away,
Their needs, their strife, their poverty ... “Not our problem,” I’d say.
“We have our own needy people, our hungry, our poor.”
“Why, they’re right here in our own backyard, Why should we take on more?”
But God had other plans for me. He was working on my heart.
He put me on a plane and made me listen from the start.
You see, my idea of poverty had been really misconstrued,
For here in this great land of ours, it’s a matter of asking ... and the hungry receive food.
But oh, how my eyes were opened to the ultimate despair.
These people whose whole lives are consumed with mere survival, how unfair ...
That they drink infested water, sometimes from puddles on the street.
They have few clothes; they have no shoes to wear upon their feet.
They swim and bathe amidst sludge and mud along with hogs and sow,
And why they were not all diseased I could only wonder how.
Day in, day out, they walk, they search, just trying to survive.
They try to sell their wares to those who’ll buy – to stay alive.
A simple shack they call their home, no electricity or plumbing,
With only the bare necessities, and no other resources coming.
The men, they toil, they labor, their sweat pouring from their brow,
To earn a wage ... mere dollars a week ... again, I wondered “How?”
The women struggle from dawn to dusk, their wash upon their head,
Journey to the rivers and streams, by donkeys they were led.
But the children, oh the children ... to see them told it all.
Their toys were rocks and animal bones, tattered cloth wrapped into a ball.
Some wore simple rags of old, some not a stitch in sight,
Their shoeless feet, their unkempt hair, told of their endless plight.
But yet, their eyes were not filled with tears, but with innocence and joy,
For a smile, or a hug, or a touch from us, would bring them so much joy.
And though not a word was understood between us, the language barrier in the way,
The language of love spoke loud and clear between us every day.
And I knew then what I was meant to see in this land so far from here,
A message that had eluded me was now so very clear,
That ‘cause even though these people lack things that we have come to know,
Their faith is strong; their love runs deep; they’re grateful to us so.
They had nothing, yet had it all, through God’s unconditional love.
From within shackled walls of worship, they praised Him up above.
We have so much, yet take for granted, things they’ll never know.
But God’s enabled us to reach out beyond our comfort zone.
I first remember hearing of Haiti in 1980. It was the year St. Helens blew it's top in our neck of the woods. It's the year my brother Josh was born. It's the year my sister went to Haiti. 
