Good Gifts

Day 1 as Micah’s parents has officially come and gone. We got to visit him in the orphanage, still 10 days from bringing him out for good. And both Sara and I believe that the wait is a blessing in disguise. We are going to need every minute of time we have with him during those 10 days. Our visit was in the afternoon again, just the second visit since we have been back in Russia. And apparently he remembered that he was dropped off two days ago with strange people, because as he rounded the staircase and caught sight of the doorway of the playroom where we were waiting for him, he put on the breaks, stiffening both legs and looking very much like a waterskier as his slick-soled sandels scraped across the tile floor. Voicing his displeasure, he entered the room ultimately in the arms of his caretaker. Much of the visit proceeded in like fashion. He spent the better part of the first hour crying. A hefty portion of his apprehension was supplied by yours-truly. (That’s what I live for. Scaring small children. I thought the Halloween monster mask with blood-tinged fangs was a good idea. The perfect ice-breaker). The response is really not much different than it was with Elijah, except Micah is about 6 months younger than Elijah was and as a result, is just a touch more apprehensive. But once I relegated myself to one corner of the room assembling a collection of Cinderella puzzles (I killed those bad boys so fast!), he settled down and began to play. It was from this vantage point that I was able to catch on camera his first smiles as Sara tickled him.

As the afternoon progressed, I was able to work my way closer to him, much like a Navy SEAL, belly crawling behind foam-filled couches and ducking behind stacked foam blocks, occasionally peeking from behind to see that I was not spotted. With a wall of multi-colored blocks as a barrier, I slowly extended the video camera out from behind, training the lens on Micah sitting in Sara’s lap. I then angled the viewfinder towards me, using it as a periscope so that I could watch my son play. By the end of our visit though, I was able to come out from behind the wall, and we rolled a small ball back and forth together as I cherished every toss. At this point, they are the little things that are so important. But you should have seen him when the door opened and his caretaker stepped in. GAME OVER! Remember the cartoons where Scooby-Do and Shaggy would be frightened by something popping up behind them? They would jump up and their feet would start running franticly before they even touched the ground? Got the mental picture? Yeah, pretty much like that. No “good-bye”. Just “get me outta here, man!” (or the Russian equivalent).

If you have read this blog before, you know that this is the part where I wax philosophical on you. Much like Fred Rogers from the popular Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood children’s show would take off his “house shoes” and put his loafers back on, throw the old-man coat over his sweater while singing “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood…”, I can’t wrap up this episode without it. You would somehow feel slighted. Taken advantage of. Ripped off. I just don’t think I could live with myself knowing that I caused you so much pain. So here goes. I know on the surface it could sound like Micah’s response this past visit was negative. A bad sign. And while unfortunate, I don’t know how anyone could realistically expect anything different. The orphanage is my son’s home. His small room is his whole world. His caretakers are his mom and dad. His playmates are his brothers and sisters. At this moment, who am I? A stranger. Someone to be feared. What is the playroom where we visit him? Just a place where he feels alone and scared. Here’s where the truth of our life and God come into clear focus. All of us at many different times in our lives and in myriad ways are Micah. We are comfortable and safe in our own little rooms where everything is familiar. We confuse safety with happiness, and therefore we live lives of perceived contentment. Then there is God. He’s like me, Micah’s father (for the sake of analogy…don’t go screaming blasphemy just yet). He knows the life that He has for us outside our little world. A home, a family, hope, a future, joy like we have never experienced before that would make what we have settled for as happiness in our little room seem like a solitary light bulb compared to the light of the sun. But we are scared of the unknown. So we lock our knees in defiance and fear. But that room is the place where God meets us in our own lives and gives us a little taste of what His family is like. We’ve been in that room before. And we have been scared, so we have cried to return to our own safe world, despite the world of unknown and never-before-dreamed-of joy and fulfillment that is available to us if we just trusted the one wiser than us. The good news for Micah is that 9 days from now, regardless of his choice we are going to step into his life and take him out of his little world to his home where he will grow and thrive, where he will never be alone, where he will belong forever. With God, we have to choose to leave the room with Him. How many times have you been in the room with Him, only to run back out the door? Sacrificed joy for safety? Traded freedom for the prison of your four walls because it’s all you know? If you believe that Sara and I know what’s best for Micah, why wouldn’t the creator of the universe know what is best for the children he loves and gave his life for?

“If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” Matthew 7:11