When Stories Collide

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As you may know, this month is Orphan November, a time set apart to consider and support the vulnerable and fatherless. While I myself haven’t been able to do much on my blog about it this month because, well, we were busy ensuring there was one less orphan  🙂 ; my dear friend Christ in Me has a whole section of her lovely blog dedicated to orphan care. She asked me if I could share a bit of our story to finish out Orphan November, and I thought I would share with you all as well.

Stories are strange things. Because it isn’t the big, important people who are usually the main characters; it’s not the sunny, lovely days that move the story along. It’s the little people who become the heroes. It’s the disasters that cause the quest.

I don’t really know the beginning of your story. But I think it must have started like many others. With a brave little mother, a brave little father, and a brave little baby. I like to think they loved you dearly, you adorable little ball of sass and sweetness. But then disaster hit. Your head started swelling.

I don’t know if they knew what was wrong. I don’t know if they had ever heard of hydrocephalus. I don’t know if they tried to get the doctor’s help. But I think they must have fought for you. You were their beloved one, their beautiful baby and now —

Four months. That’s all they had with you. They give up their child. But they gave you a chance. A chance at help, a chance at love, a chance at life. They couldn’t help you, but they knew who could. So one night, a brave little baby was left at the gate of the best orphanage in the province.

And so ended the first chapter of this story. But that wasn’t the only family fighting for hope.

Because another story was unfolding in another little family.

Read the rest over at So I Fix My Eyes

 

You can read my thoughts before we left for China here

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Thanks Isn’t an Intransitive Verb

 

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It’s easy to give thanks at Thanksgiving.

We’re embraced by family, surrounded by comfort, and encircled by food. It’s a lazy day, sitting around watching Macy’s Parade, playing some games, and helping in the kitchen a little. Even while we eat we still go slowly, spreading all the wonderful goodness out as long as we can. We have plenty of time as we finish ‘filling up the corners’ to consider the blessing we have.

But then the long weekend ends, and it’s Monday again, and there is work and finals and shopping and applications and cleaning and studying and — And we forget. We let thankfulness fall by the wayside.  We get so caught up in life, that we forget that life is a gift. We become so entangled in caring for the stuff, that we forget that the stuff was given. And when we forget the blessings, we also forget the Blesser. And we cannot allow that. Continue reading