The other woman

I discovered who the other woman was today. He calls her mommy and she's been with him since he came to live at SHH. Zhou. Pronounced like Joe, this is the woman who has been as much of a mother to Joseph as one can be without being his mother.

I don't know what feelings I was supposed to have, knowing my son calls another mommy, but what I felt was relief. Relief that this child loves, relief that he bonds, relief that he hasn't been alone. Relief and gratitude. Gratitude that he was so fortunate to be placed at SHH where they teach about Jesus, go to church on Sundays and where they teach these precious children to love. Where the volunteers and workers give their hearts away to children who won't stay with them for a lifetime.

Because he will be five and therefore considered an "older child" by the time we get him home, we have some required reading: a couple of books regarding parenting the adopted (and traumatized) child. You read about this horror called RAD, reactive attachment disorder, and man is it scary! Institutionalized children who aren't soothed when they cry, living in conditions where physical touch is a rarity, often develop attachment disorders, unable to easily, if ever, bond with their adoptive parents. I have heard testimonials from friends of mine that will run your blood cold with apprehension and the fear is palpable that your child will suffer the same disability to connect. The hours and months and years of therapy and very intentional attempts at overcoming such obstacles these families have had to endure cause me to quake in my boots.

And then there is Joseph, who has been loved on and held from the day he was sent to SHH. He has developed attachments to this Zhou, and my eyes swim with tears because I am so thankful he knows what love feels like and how to reciprocate it. Will there be issues? I'm sure. It's still a radical change for a child so young. He'll leave his country, his culture, his friends and the only home he's ever known, his Zhou and what I would give that I could lessen his anxiety. His fear must be paralyzing at times.  How I wish I could calm his fears. Love and patience are what I pray for daily, and in abundance. May God shower us with that which will make the transition less difficult.

I saw a commercial the other day, and it featured a man who was obviously troubled by the decay of the world around him. Fatherless boys needing mentors, broken homes, desperate and hungry children surrounded him and crowded his thoughts. Then at the end of the commercial there was a statement that I just loved, "lessen the burden of caring by doing". It affected me so much I hit the rewind button (DVR is the best invention of the 21st century) and played it again.

That's what these ayi's are doing at SHH, and adoptive parents when choosing adoption, and sponsors when sacrificially giving, all these efforts to bring these children some measure of comfort, peace and security- we are "doing". The burden of caring is suffocating. There is so much need and seemingly so few hands. But I have two hands, an open heart and a spare bedroom. Zhou has time she chose to invest in my son's life. We all have a part in lessening the burden, and I would just propose the question, are we doing our part?

So I heard of the other woman today, and this is my message to her: Thank you for investing your heart into my son. Thank you for preparing his heart to be able to receive and give love. Thank you for standing in for me until I can get there. Thank you for lessening the burden of caring by doing. I won't ever forget what you have done for him, nor will I let him forget the first person he called "mommy".

lessen the burden of caring by doing