Why do we need orphans? That seems a silly question doesn’t it? Yet, death is so much a part of life. Here in America we do not feel this as one might in other countries where a hostile environment threatens families every day. 143 million children in the world are orphaned by a mother or father or have been abandoned leaving them now empty, devastated, and demolished. The children have not asked to be an orphan; it is now their life though. I am not going to tell you what you need to do, but I want to share with you my heart.

     Often in Uganda I would take a little walk with the girls down to the little baby’s home around the corner to love on the preemies. These are treasured memories for us. On one of our visiting days a new little boy had arrived named Emma. (Emma is a nickname for Emmanuel among Africans.) Emma’s mummy had recently died; the mother had a sister nearby in which the two orphaned children were sent. After being with their auntie for two weeks, administration from a baby home came to check up on the aunt who had children at their orphanage. She could not care for all of her own children let alone her sister’s children. The result was to pull the two young orphans away from the only family willing to take them, to insure they would be cared for and have enough food to fill their tummies. I gazed at little Emma who was about Gabriel’s age-about 18 months; his eyes were empty and lost as he stared off in his pain. His arms and legs were thin showing lack of muscle from being cared on mummies back all too often so that he had not strength enough to stand. His tummy was bloated from malnutrition. At this point I knew nothing of his story, so I began to ask the Ugandan mommas. I learned that while at his aunties’ his young female cousin was caring for him and he had become very attached to her. He now lay lifeless on the straw sofa in the tiny sitting area in the preemie house of this home where I perused his frail body carefully with my eyes, trying to determine if there was anything that needed to be cared for. I then took this precious boy in my arms and cried for him as I cradled him tight, yet there was no response, no reciprocation, only limp arms and body against mine. I sat in the small cinder-block building with him for a hours trying to show this little child that there was someone in this world that loved him, struggling to communicate without words that I loved him and I was deeply sorry for all the pain that he was going through. “I love you darling.” I finally repeated over and over again.

     In time I pulled myself from little Emma to return to my own family that would need supper soon and lights were going out that night, which meant I must hurry. My heart was anchored deeply in me as we walked slowly, silently home, tears blurring my vision. Thoughts of my precious little Gabriel in Emma’s shoes passed through my mind. How would he feel? How would he cope? I could not control the tears; they ran down my cheeks dropping to the dusty iron red soil road. My heart ached more than I could bear for I must take this to my Daddy.

     Once at home, I slumped down on the woven straw bench in David’s office and began to share Emma’s story with David. My family all gathered around me listening to my burden for this precious unfortunate child. Cries and prayers were heard in that tiny blue room for the better part of an hour; Emma was deeply imprinted on my heart. “Why? Why does a little boy have to lose his mummy? I am crushed for him!” I wept. “David can we adopt him?” This question had been in my mind since I first saw him and heard his story. I didn’t want to walk away forgetting about him, or numbing myself to his situation; I wanted to act in the Spirit and follow what Jesus directed me to do. I began to pray for Emma and us immediately and continued on for some time. We continued to visit Emma seeing no visible change. During one of these visits we met Maggie, his sister. She was a beautiful infant of about 4 months. Her presence sparkled with beams of happiness, this was not usual for these orphans. Maggie was so young when her mummy died that she did not know any different. She had a team of sweet mommas caring for her though and she was content. Only once, I remember during one of our visits, seeing a smile on Emma’s face; I never saw the joy of childhood reenter his life. He did learn to crawl, but life had stolen his desires away so that even crawling was a meaningless task that would take long; he was about 2 years old. Life began painfully for this baby boy and his spirit was crushed. The doors were closed for us adopting him for many different reasons, but I will never forget this rare beauty that captivated my soul.

     What Emma experienced was completely unique to what even Maggie his sister had experienced. They are different children at a different point in time. Each orphan is a distinctive individual with inimitable feelings and experiences only he or she has seen and felt and they must be treated so.

     So back to that funny question, “Why do we need orphans?” or is it a funny question? If death is a part of this life and always will be, we will always be faced with the care of orphans. We can act as though the orphans are not present, ignore them, leave them for someone else OR in the grace and Spirit of God we can embrace the work at hand and learn from them. They can teach us compassion and tenderness. They can teach the hardest heart how to love again. They can teach us that we are a part of a bigger world than just our own tiny life. They can bring us into the presence of the Father, allowing us to see God’s heart. They can allow us to be part of what God is doing in His Kingdom, rescuing orphans from a dark painful world. They can teach us to look past ourselves and can help us to listen to the pain of another. Often they do this without any words; silently they talk with their eyes and body. Will we be attentive enough to hear their unspoken cry, to cradle another human being in need, to wipe the tears off her cheeks, to teach one to crawl or walk or play, to teach him that there are kangaroos or raccoons in this great big world, to sew to holes in her dress, to clean his boo-boo when he falls, to speak truth into her life? Will we be compassionate enough to show him a picture of Jesus in ourselves worth seeking out? Will we show her the Jesus in ourselves she is reading about in the Bible?

“Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you truth the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”