Christmas Thoughts from Li'l Dude

Hey there!  Not up there...down here.  It's me, Li'l Dude.

(I know.  Totally not my best picture ever.  My mom thinks anytime is a good time for a photo shoot.  She seriously snatched me out of bed, plopped me on the toilet seat, and started snapping pictures.  So not cool.)

My mom asked me to blog for her today.  (Don't tell her I said so, but I think this whole going-from-one-kid-to-three thing is stressing her out a tiny bit.)  She said today's post would be best coming from me because I've only been home for 36 days.  Even though it feels like I've been part of this family forever, just 37 days ago I woke up in an orphanage.

Thirty-seven days ago my world was a completely different place.  There were a lot less hugs.  A lot less stories.  A lot less bedtime kisses.  A lot less of this crazy-delicious stuff my mom calls pizza.

Thirty-seven days ago I was alone.  Sure, there were forty-nine other kids and some nannies in my orphanage, but none of them were mine.  I'm talking mine like these two are mine.

Yes, they're both seriously bossy, but they're 100% mine.  Like beat-up-the-kid-who-called-me-names mine.  Forever and always mine.

Thirty-seven days ago I woke up in a place without a lot of hope.  A place where I'd spent so much time laying in my crib that the back of my head got flat and a whole strip of my hair got rubbed off.  A place where I'd learned to soothe myself to sleep by banging my head against my crib mattress.  A place where my caretakers weren't 24/7 mommies and daddies, but people who clocked out at the end of each day and went home to their real lives.

Thirty-seven days ago I was an orphan: one of 15,000,000 children living without parents.

If you're honest with yourself, thirty-seven days ago it wasn't difficult to imagine that I was just a picture. A statistic.  A little person far, far, far removed from the comfortable life many of you are living in this amazing land full of resources.

It was easy to reduce me to a tiny prick to your conscience or a $45/month donation.  Easy to confine my story to a hidden corner of your heart...or to not let it in at all.  Easy to allow Christmas shopping or swimming lessons or dinner plans erase me from your mind altogether.

My mom has been there.  She tells me that a few short years ago, she did these things.  She wants to believe she was ignorant, but perhaps she just chose to ignore the reality that all 15,000,000 of these children are just as real as I am.

All of them have personalities.

And potential.

(I know you might not have met me yet, but I'm very real.  My dimples, my teeny-tiny voice, and my mischievous streak are real.)

How can 15,000,000 very real children waiting for families not rip your heart to shreds?  How can tiny boys like me spending Christmas alone in their cribs not bring tears to your eyes?  How can knowing that I celebrated Christmas with my family this year not make you want that for one more child next year?

I hope I get to meet you someday.  And when you hug me, I hope the illusion that you can keep our world's orphan crisis tucked away in a neat corner of your consciousness is totally shattered.  Gone forever.

This Christmas, imagine the gift that you could give to one of these children.  Imagine one of them knowing that they will never be alone again.  Imagine one of them opening presents under your tree next year. 

Before I say good night, I want you to meet one very special little girl.  Her "name" is Eve Noelle.

Three years ago, on Christmas Day, she was found abandoned in Ch*na.  She's spent four Christmases alone.  I want this one to be the last.  Next year, I want this sweet girl to have what I've had today: love, joy, family.

You can chat with my mom (whatitmeans2beheld @ gmail . com) about Eve Noelle or about adoption in general.  (Look out, she gets a little passionate and might talk your ear off.)

This morning my daddy read me a story about a little baby named Jesus who was born long ago in a manger.  That baby grew up to be a man who called people to follow him, not to an easy life but to sacrifice and servanthood.  He grew up to be a man who cared about those the world considered worthless - those who were the least worthy, the least fortunate, the least valuable in the eyes of humanity.  

These children are some of the least.

What are you going to do about it?