Aren't You Scared

He had just finished reading the litany of diagnoses. Mental delay, severe epilepsy, severe speech delay, hyperactivity.  He had just finished reading about her abandonment. He had just finished making it clear for the court record that no one, not one person, had visited or called or made contact with her since she had been left at the hospital. No one.

It was grim.

Aren't You Scared?

He motioned for Rob to stand up and answer the question.

Yes. I thought as I looked at the judge. Absolutely.  I am terrified.  I am not naïve. I've done this before. I know what is coming.  I've spent hours and days and weeks and months in the trenches with my other two boys.

Rob stood and cleared his throat.  He then, in words that were beautiful and eloquent, shared with the judge about meeting Aaron for the first time. He was a severely disabled boy in a Level 4 mental institute who couldn't talk, barely walked, couldn't feed himself, couldn't take care of himself.  He had been put away. But now. Now Aaron can run. He never stops talking. He feeds himself. He can do so many things for himself. He is in school and can read and write and is so very smart. We know that Mary has great potential.  We know we can help her just like we have helped our other boys.

It was perfect and right and in every way the truth.

But it doesn't mean we aren't scared.

We are so not naïve.

We have seen every one of her diagnoses. They are not incorrect. 

She was abandoned at a time in her life when she needed her Mama the most. She went from hospital to an orphanage. Just last May she was transferred to a Level 3 special needs orphanage. Right after transfer she was taken to a "camp" where she spent the summer months. She knows starvation, she knows abandonment, she knows that to survive you have to fight. She knows that grownups can hurt her. She knows.

Aren't You Scared.

Yes.

We are.

But she needs us. She needs family. She needs advocates. She needs a home. She needs love.  She needs a Mama and a Papa who are committed to stay the course with her.  She needs the Lord.  And He is the One who called us to cross the ocean for her.

We are leaving on Monday night and I have already packed the bags.

Our bags are packed.

I travel all the time and I never pack until right before I leave but not this time.

We're ready.

We're ready to bring home a little girl who has had to learn to fight to survive.

We are bringing home a little girl who shuts down verbally when she is upset.

 

We are bringing home a little girl who has seizures that are dangerous and unpredictable.

We are bringing home a little girl who is adorable and who has already wrapped us around her little finger.

We are scared.

I won't lie.

We know that in the coming months we are going to go deep into the trenches. We know that we will spend thousands of hours in hospitals and doctor's offices. We know she is developmentally and emotionally delayed. We know that we are bringing home a hurting little girl on every level.

But we know the One who called us.

And we are counting the hours to go get our little one and bring her home.