Sometimes on the weekends we linger long around the table.

We tell stories. We tell tales of years past, memories that we hold in our minds of the past that we all share.

We tell about the time Daddy launched the rocket ship three different times in a row, and about how each time it landed on little Evan’s head.

We remember when baby Sophia dumped out an entire box of baking soda on the dining room floor and thought she had accomplished the most fantastic of feats.

Sometimes we remember sad times that we have shared like the times our newborns, Steven and Evan, were in the intensive care nursery or when Andrew had his open heart surgery.

We tell stories of God’s provision in our lives and the fantastic miracles we have watched Him perform on our behalf.

We are the Church, and we are blessed.

We take for granted the longevity a family shares.

We are carelessly unaware of the children who are alone with no one to tell their stories.

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We work hard to provide for our own. We save for family vacations, for bigger homes in which to spoil the limited number of children we have allowed God to bless us with, and we fill up our homes with things that take up space.

We do not have room for the children who wait.

Our lives are too busy, our homes too full.

Yet the children wait carrying hurts in their hearts so big that we can’t even comprehend their stories, let alone make them our own. They are far away from our comfortable lives, yet they wait on the streets of every city across the globe.

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They wait for medical care.

They wait for families.

They wait for love.

They wait for someone to tell their stories.

They wait for you and me to move over and make room for another.

They wait for us to spread our grocery budget a little thinner to provide enough food for one more. They wait for us to learn to have fun with less money so that they can have fun with us.

They wait for families to raise the funds for the legal fees to bring them home.

They wait because so few have anything to give.

Indeed, they wait for us to be willing to make our lives harder, to choose to pick up their heavy crosses and carry them on our backs.

They wait for the Called,

for we are all called.

Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. ~Gal. 6:2

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Couldn’t we all make room around our tables for one more story?

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6 Comments on Who Tells Their Stories?

  1. This is beautiful. As I started doing Christmas shopping (yes, I start in September!), I felt convicted that while we wait to be matched with our next foster child, we must be willing to spend at least as much money on our sponsored child as we do on the children in our home and that means that our kids get less, well, I don’t think anyone will suffer. We are responsible for her and she is no less valuable or deserving than the kids under our own roof. Thank you for the reminder! Now…where did I put that World Vision Christmas letter?!
    Vertical Mom recently posted..Evenson Goes Home!!!My Profile

  2. Oh, thank you so much for that post. As I am in prayer about another adoption of an older girl (actually I’m pretty sure of the answer), I needed to read your words. When God calls us, we need to heed his call, and He will provide. I am trying NOT to worry about this decision and just have joy over the journey.

    Blessings to you.
    Chris
    Chris Lessly recently posted..Home From Africa….Sisters Meet…and LOVEMy Profile

  3. Omg….where is this picture you posted of all those little ones in a crib? The Lord has put adoption on my heart, but I’m overwhelmed and don’t even know where to begin.

  4. Pingback: WE CRY OUT!

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