This past Christmas some friends of ours hosted an orphan child from Ukraine for the holidays. It wasn't something I had ever thought of, or considered doing, but I was excited for them and that experience for their family. The young man arrived, and was so sweet and friendly. He had won the hearts of their family and unexpectedly impacted the hearts of those around them. One night just before his departure back to the orphanage in Ukraine, I was tucking my children in and saying goodnight. We always say prayers, and more often than not, we pray for orphans, widows, homeless, and those enslaved in human trafficking. That night was different than any other night. As I bent down to kiss my daughter, I heard sniffling. I asked her what was wrong, and her answer stopped me in my tracks. She wiped the tears that were streaming down her face long enough to explain. She went on to tell me that all of the times we had ever mentioned kids without parents, love, siblings, a family, or who go hungry, never really hit her until meeting this young man. She further explained that not only had she not realized what she had in her own family, but that meeting an orphan had opened her eyes to the orphans across the world. That there really are children with no home, no mom or dad, no family to show them love, or share Jesus with like ours. As she finished and the tears resumed, I felt a knot in my stomach as well as in my throat. She was not the only one who had been jerked into the fierce reality that the fatherless have a face. I sat there in the dark holding her and choking back tears. I reaffirmed that God holds the life of that young man in his hands just like he holds ours. I explained that God writes our stories, and though we may not always understand or even like some of the chapters that are being written, that in the end God brings good out of poor situations. I kissed her one last time, and went downstairs to continue processing all that had just taken place.
In February we had our outreach conference for our church. We call it our ROC (Reach Out Celebration). We do this once a year to review all the amazing things God has done in our community and around the world, and we get geared up for the upcoming year of outreach and missions. Open Hearts and Homes for Children became one of our ministry partners, and our friends spoke of their hosting experience on behalf of that organization. As I sat there listening to the memories that they made, and the life change that took place, I was intrigued to at least check out their website. A week went by, and one day I was working around the house and I remembered I had wanted to check out the website to that hosting program my friends were part of. I looked it up and saw so many kids waiting to be hosted for the Summer. I am naturally drawn to sibling groups because I can't imagine our 6 ever being separated. I remember skimming through the pictures, and finding a cute photo of a sibling group. I casually mentioned it to my husband and the next morning they had been placed on hold to be hosted. I was happy for them! A few more days went by, and I found myself looking at those faces again. By now my kids had noticed what I was looking at and were wanting to host some kids in our home. I continued skimming through the photos. There was one group that I kept coming back to. I finally opened their bio, and upon reading those words it felt like I had been punched in the stomach. I read about their personalities, their likes, and what they wanted to be when they grew up. But the line that will forever stick with me is this one, "Her biggest wish is to have a baby doll and a stroller to push it in." I sat there silent. I was recounting all of the dolls and strollers we had purchased and played with over the years. All the toys that we have gone through, many barely played with. I sat there thinking of my own wishes, and how meager hers seemed compared to mine. I couldn't stop thinking of how easy it would be to fulfill that wish! I couldn't shake the feeling of needing to do something. I brought it up to my husband and he agreed to think it over. Through prayer and discussion we decided to step out in faith and host 3 out of the 4 kids. (The youngest is too young to travel.) I went through all the paperwork and those kids are now on hold because they will be welcomed into our home this summer.
I would be lying if I said I wasn't nervous and a bit scared. However, I am not scared about any of the things one might think. I am not scared of the language barrier, or how they may behave, or even the amount of kids that will be in my care. I am afraid of the hurt I might feel when we say goodbye, or the faces I may see as they turn to board the plane. I am afraid that our lives will never be the same. I am afraid of sleepless nights of prayer for them and others like them. Though even in the midst of all that, I can't turn away. The fatherless have a face. I have seen it. This summer we will experience it, and I can't look away.
Until Next Time...
P.S. If you want to follow our journey, look for more blog posts, follow me on Facebook or Instagram! Also check out our progress at
https://openheartsandhomes.managedmissions.com/MyTrip/schultzerichalahna1
