Since returning home from Ethiopia, I keep trying to gather up the whole trip in my thoughts...but I fail every time. Already, it all seems a bit surreal. But I want to remember everything that I can about the home country of my daughter.
Like how the dusty streets of Addis are home to people to numerous to count. I close my eyes and I can see the poverty...EVERYWHERE. Row after row of tiny shacks held together by pieces of corrugated metal. I can hear the constant horns beeping, the donkeys braying, the people begging for food. I remember a young mother, curled up in a ball in front of a small shop, eyes unseeing, one hand held out for money, the other protectively wrapped around her toddler. The people milling everywhere above her, almost running over her and her son...and how he never left her side. I see the elderly, lying in the dust..and wondering if they are dead or alive. The lame, the disfigured, the scarred, the sick, the street children...they crowd every shop, every dusty street corner.
Like how the dusty streets of Addis are home to people to numerous to count. I close my eyes and I can see the poverty...EVERYWHERE. Row after row of tiny shacks held together by pieces of corrugated metal. I can hear the constant horns beeping, the donkeys braying, the people begging for food. I remember a young mother, curled up in a ball in front of a small shop, eyes unseeing, one hand held out for money, the other protectively wrapped around her toddler. The people milling everywhere above her, almost running over her and her son...and how he never left her side. I see the elderly, lying in the dust..and wondering if they are dead or alive. The lame, the disfigured, the scarred, the sick, the street children...they crowd every shop, every dusty street corner.
The children..the people...they amaze you and break your heart all in the same breath. Never have I met people with such dignity, respect, kindness and determination. And yet, they have been dealt disease, famine and economic devastation. We were told about the street children. Many are as young as 2 and 3 years of age. Their parents have died and there aren't any other family members. They band together in groups and live on the streets, begging for food. They will not be placed in an orphanage unless a parent or living relative actually brings them to the orphanage and relinquishes them personally. Picture your two-year-old and 3-year-old, being forced to take care of each other because there is no one else to do it for them.
These sweet children, enveloped us in shy waves, warm smiles, and pleas to have their pictures taken. They gave hugs as readily as the sun shines and giggled endlessly over their pictures.
You leave Ethiopia, wanting to take every child that you meet home with you. And you leave...so thankful for the policemen, family members and parents who brought your sweet child to an orphanage...to the place where God intersected your life with their own and you get the incredible privilege of becoming a mother/father/family.
I cannot imagine my 2-year-old having to beg for food - it breaks my heart. Whenever I hear stories like yours, I think we have so much room here. So many families (including my own) who really have room for one more. We have so many resources, so much that we should share. Thanks for sharing your story - it is inspiring.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing your beautiful heart, Kerri! What happened to the part about room for one more? I loved that part...we are so blessed here in America. Spoiled, really. It's so sad that so much poverty exists and so many children are left behind, but it's so wonderful that Elora will be joining your family. I praise God for you and the example your family is to us!
ReplyDelete