Seeing is believing

I am so excited about this post! This post is the last one in a series another adoptive mom has shared on her blog recently. I reposted this series for several reasons, first to raise awareness, second to hopefully motivate and encourage some to do something about it, but mainly to provide a window into Valentin’s world so we can gain some understanding.

As you read this post please keep in mind that your love, prayers, and donations are rescuing ONE. Valentin could have easily been any one of the children that were talked about in previous posts, but because of YOU he will be ONE of the few rescued ones.

From the Seeing is Believing blog post:

"I am so excited to share today's post with you.

For the last week I have been bringing to your attention a situation which, very sadly, is not spoken of very often--a situation which, I'm sure, has broken your hearts as much as it breaks mine each and every time a dire situation such as one of these is brought to my attention. Sometimes there truly are no words. The pictures are terribly hard to look at! The images leave us feeling so desperate to do something--anything--to help. Very soon I will share ways that you and I can do just that...do something!

But today is a different kind of post. Today I want to show you all what redemption looks like for children such as these...the ones abandoned in the back room of an orphanage, the ones forgotten about, the ones not worth feeding, the ones living in dire poverty, the ones with no value, the ones no one wants.....

The least of the least of these!

If a picture is worth a thousand words...

These are worth a million!

This is Dusty. Adopted from the same orphanage as our girls just nine months ago--weighing just 20 pounds when he came home and was admitted straight into hospital for malnutrition.

Today, only ten months later, Dusty weighs over 30 pounds! I have been so blessed to meet Dusty in person, and to watch him develop and grow. He is a little miracle boy for sure.

Meet sweet Gabe. Home for just eight months! Weighing just 21 pounds at six years old when adopted. He was left in a crib his entire life. He only took his food pureed from a bottle, hated touch, and could hardly sit up on his own. Weak and malnourished, he needed to be rescued!

Today...a healthy, blossoming, growing boy who loves life!

And beautiful Carrington. Adopted in March 2011 and taken directly from the airport to the hospital. Carrington was nothing but skin and bones--weighing only ten pounds when she came home. Doctors told the family that Carrington's organs had already started shutting down and she had just 24 hours of life left in her.

But God...! Just look what He did! Today, almost one year after coming home, Carrington is healthy and thriving--weighing in at 27 pounds. Glory to God in the highest! Another little miracle.

And darling little Belle. Adopted at almost three years old and weighing only 15 pounds. Belle knew nothing but a life confined to a crib...until her family heard the call and said, "Here we are, Lord! Send us!"

Today...just 13 months later she is a happy, healthy little toddler who weighs 26 pounds.

I know that so many of you followed Katie's amazing journey home. Sweet, little, teeny-tiny Katie. Rescued just three months ago--hanging on by a thread in a faraway orphanage. God had big plans for this angel! Katie also went straight from the airport to the hospital--weighing a measly 10 pounds 9 ounces at nine years old!

Oh, but just LOOK what a difference family makes! Today...Katie is doing incredibly well. She is a healthy weight for her height and is growing before her family's eyes. She now weighs nearly 23 pounds! What an absolute JOY Katie is to her family!

Ah, handsome boy! Rescued from Africa two years ago--weighing 15 pounds at five years old-- having seizures, asthma attacks, aspirating on his food, and with zero hope! He received no medical care and was in terrible shape--living on borrowed time, bedridden. But God had plans for this lovie too...and He sent a very special family to rescue him.

Today...seven years old and doing so, so well. Weighing 43 pounds, he is the light of his parents lives! Redemption.

Meet beautiful Kori. Adopted at almost eight years old and weighing in at a mere 16 pounds! Lifeless, sad, circles under her eyes, and in very poor condition. But God could not leave her like that...He knew that her life had purpose and a destiny. And so He reached down from heaven and gave her a miracle....a family to call her own.

Today...a picture of health! Healthy, happy and growing in every way. Adorable!

This little lovie is Victoria. Adopted only eight months ago. She was tiny, desperately unhappy, and painfully thin. Also confined to a crib and literally starved. Victoria was another little one who spent her first weeks on U.S soil being treated for malnutrition in the hospital. She only weighed 14 pounds.

Today....what a huge difference! Victoria now weighs 26 pounds and hardly even looks like the same child. There is a light in her eyes and she knows she belongs.

Oh, my sweet, sweet Julia! How I love this little angel. Julia was the first child I ever advocated for here on my blog. I met Julia in Hailee's laying room. **NOTE: this is the same laying room Valentin is in** Each day I would go into the room and cry tears as Julia smiled at me through the bars of her crib--lying in a puddle of urine, unable to even sit up, wasting away, languishing. You can read Julia's story here. Diagnosed with a very rare disorder, she needed to be rescued!

Today...Julia has been home for 10 months. I have been so blessed to watch this little girl--left lying in a crib 24/7--blossom and grow into all who God has created her to be. She has gone from a 15-pound little girl who was so malnourished, to a 30-pound beauty in such a short space of time. Julia has astounded us all with how far she has come.

This precious young man is Judd. Adopted from the same orphanage where my friend, Julia, adopted their Aaron from. You only have to read Julia's testimony to know what life was like for this boy for so many years. Awful! Judd was so full of sores and scars when his parents got to him...

Today...all gone! He is healing in every way, is healthy, and is such a delighful little boy. Redemption has come to him too.

And then there's one of my best friend's daughter, Lily. I remember standing in the airport just 18 months ago waiting to see Lily come home. Lily was born with a very complicated and life threatening heart condition. She was given very little hope of survival in her birth country. By the time Rachel and Chris reached Lily, she was blue from lack of oxygen and hanging on for dear life. She too was admitted into the hospital as soon as she got home.

Lily is a walking miracle. She has amazed us all with how far she has come. Her heart condition is still very serious, but Lily has been given the best of care from top heart doctors and she is finally at a point in her growth and health where open heart surgery can be done. I know her family would greatly appreciate your prayers as they journey toward Lily's heart surgery soon.

How well she has done!

And finally, there's our own miracle girl. Adopted 21 months ago. Hailee weighed 14 pounds the day I finally got to her in the orphanage. **NOTE: the same orphanage Valentin is in** She was almost five years old. She spent her entire life in a crib--rocking endlessly, biting her fingers, hitting her head on the bars of the crib until the sores bled, grinding her teeth until all that remained were stumps, drugged with an adult tranquilizer to make her sleep, and was fed a diet of only broth. Hailee lived in what's known as a "laying room"--a place for the neediest of special-needs children.

Words cannot even describe what a blessing this little lovie has been to our family. As she heads toward her seventh birthday, she is now weighing 27 pounds and is doing well. She is learning, growing, and making us smile each and every day.

People often comment on how fortunate Hailee was to be rescued. And yes, she was, for she would surely have died if they had transferred her to a mental institution around her fifth birthday. But the greatest blessing of all has been for US, her family. We simply cannot imagine life without Hailee in it.

And so I ask you...is anything impossible for the Lord God Almighty? Anything at all? Is there any life which He cannot redeem and turn into something so wonderful, so glorious?

No!

I believe that every single child deserves a family to call their own! Even the ones such as these--the ones so often hidden away in dark places and forgotten about. Each one of these children's lives displays the Father's glory--His ability to reach down from heaven and redeem. His miracle-working power in their lives is so tangible, so absolutely magnificent.

HE IS MIGHTY TO SAVE THE ORPHAN!"

The power of one

This post is another one in a series another adoptive mom has shared on her blog recently. I reposted this series for several reasons, first to raise awareness, second to hopefully motivate and encourage some to do something about it, but mainly to provide a window into Valentin’s world so we can gain some understanding.

As you read this post please keep in mind that your love, prayers, and donations are rescuing ONE. Valentin could have easily been any one of the children pictured below, but because of YOU he will be ONE of the few rescued ones.

From the Power of One blog post:

"It's been an interesting few days here on my blog. When I felt sure that I needed to spend a week highlighting the plight of institutionalized children, I had no idea what God had in store.

Oh my goodness, the response to a crisis which is not spoken about very often has been overwhelming! My inbox is overflowing with e-mails asking, "What can we do?" "How can we help?" I will absolutely share a post very soon on places to get involved and ways to make a difference.

And then there were the other e-mails. The ones saying, "Really? Does this really happen?" Or, "Are you sure those pictures are not old and outdated?"

No, friends. This is fact! Reality! Just ask any parent who has adopted a child from one of these institutions. Sadly, this is a very common occurrence.

"You can't save them all," someone else said.

Well, yeah, I sure do know that. I know we are dealing with a crisis which we may only see the end of when Jesus returns (come quickly, Lord Jesus!). We may never be able to make a massive dent in a humanitarian crisis as large as this. But we sure as heck can try to do everything in our power to literally save the lives of one child at a time!

Just. One.

When it all feels so completely overwhelming and I wonder how in the world we, the body of Christ, are ever going to make any kind of difference, I am reminded of the time when Jesus went to the pool called Bethesda in Jerusalem. Many, many disabled people lay there. The Bible calls them “a great number.” Jesus went in and singled out ONE man to be healed. Just ONE. He did not look at the overwhelming problem, but went to the ONE...and what a difference He made in the life of that one man! I believe He was teaching us something there. He could have looked at the mass of humanity and turned around and walked out the same way He came in.

The same with Zachaeus. Walking down a jam-packed road, Jesus picked out ONE little short man perched in a tree to have dinner with.

What a profound difference we can all make in the life of ONE!

Because ONE leads to something else, to something else, to something else...and before we know it, something amazingly beautiful has taken place. Now, on top of that, imagine if there were thousands of families making a difference in the life of ONE! The ripple effect of obedience is glorious.

Recently someone reminded me that Mother Teresa took in ONE leper when she began her ministry. That was it. That ONE was the seed, the catalyst, that led to so very much more. More than what one woman could ever have imagined. God used her obedience to help ONE, then to eventually help countless others. Just like the story of the starfish on the beach that we all know so well.

Just. One.

My heart is so burdened for the children listed below. All are already transferred from a baby house to a mental asylum. Each one of them deteriorating so fast--some of them hardly recognizable since transfer. Each precious child needing just one thing...someone to come for them. And when I feel like their time is running out and wonder how they can possibly survive one more day where they are, I am reminded that all they need is one family each.

Just. One.

Beautiful Ksenia. Transferred to an institution and no longer even looking like the same child. A horrific transformation. Desperately needing someone to come and rescue her as soon as possible.

Just. One.

Or Ekatrina--Once a gorgeous, healthy baby who has Down syndrome. Now--nothing but skin and bones. Neglected, malnourished, and living in the confines of a crib 24/7.

Just. One.

Or six-year-old Jeannette--living in a mental asylum and hidden away in a CRIB with no hope at all. Forever!

Just. One.

Or Melissa--once a blonde-haired beauty with a great curiosity. Now with a shaved head and is confined to a crib for the rest of her life.

Just. One.

Or Nathan-- Neglected, malnourished, and deteriorating more with each passing day and is forced to remain bedridden.

Just. One.

Or sweet little Nicky--once a handsome little chubby-faced baby. Now--transferred and not a single person has ever inquired about adopting him. So sad!

Just. One.

Or darling Sasha. Nearly eight years old and literally hanging on by a thread! Just as it was with our Hailee--he rocks, bangs his head, and bites on his hands to self-soothe! Oh, but how that would all change if only he was given a chance...to live! Trust me on this one thing...I just have to look at my sweet daughter to know it to be truth.

Just. One.

Oh my goodness gracious! There just are no words to describe beautiful Alexander (and she is a girl). Almost ten years old--with no light in her eyes. Bruises, dark circles, nothing but skin and bone. Who will love her?

Just. One.

And gorgeous little Ivan. Also living in an institution--bedridden and wasting away daily. How he would blossom and grow in a family!

Just. One.

Almost rips my heart out!

The life of a child who gets transferred to an institution/mental asylum is very, very real, friends. These are sadly just a few of the many, many who deteriorate so fast once they are moved from a baby house to one of these places where it truly becomes survival of the fittest. MOST just cannotsurvive the conditions.

We may not be able to save them all...but oh, what a profound difference we can make in the life of one child at a time!

Please share their stories in the hope that they WILL be found...before it is too late! Please let's ensure that these children will know what it feels like to be held, loved, comforted, protected, and nourished...just like Liliana will soon know and Teri Lynn too.

Thank you!"

If not us...then who?

This post is part of a series another adoptive mom has shared on her blog recently. Weren't the last 2 post heart-wrenching? I spent days in a cloud of misery crying out to God after reading those posts. I don't want to stop there, I want to continue to repost her series, because honestly I could not say it better. She shares so well the things we have gone through, living selfishly, God opening our hearts and our eyes, and God moving us to doing rather then just hearing. I do believe the church is moving more and more to care for orphans, I believe that with all my heart. But sometimes I need to be reminded of the need, I need to see the suffering and feel it, I need to be reminded by my brothers and sisters that, as much as I want to say it is not my problem, it is indeed very much my problem. Do you need that sometimes too?

As you read about the conditions Valentin is coming from and the doom he was headed for, please also keep in mind that your love, prayers, and donations are rescuing him from this fate. Valentin could have easily been any one of the children pictured below, but because of YOU he will be one of the few rescued ones.

From the If Not Us...Then Who? blog post:

"I have typed and edited this post a few times. Trying to find the right words—the ones which don’t offend people or stir up a hornet's nest when it comes to tough issues--is hard. I am not the most eloquent person when it comes to sharing what’s on my heart. Sometimes words escape me. Like today.

This is going to be one of those posts. The kind that’s hard, raw, emotional, and difficult to put into words. So if you are the kind of person who can’t handle seeing the hard things, it would probably be best if you stopped reading now. This post is not for you. Be warned before you read any further—the images in this post are hard to look at! They will almost rip your heart out. If you feel that you cannot handle it….stop here!

That’s my little disclaimer.

There is no way to share what is on my heart in a watered-down, peaches-and-cream kinda way. There just isn’t. And even if there were, I totally couldn’t be bothered with trying to find it. Perhaps it’s just the frame of mind I’m in these day. You see, this week I have watched in utter amazement as the world has been in a complete frenzy of grief, emotion, pain, and sadness over the loss of Whitney Houston. The pop icon overdosed. And the world went into deep mourning. Millions and millions of people grieved the loss of the singer while our televisions, social networks, and radio stations spoke of not much else. We were bombarded by her legacy, her talent, her fortune and what will happen to it, and the sad loss to the world.

Today almost 30,000 people died of extreme poverty. And we never heard a single word about it.

Today over 160,000,000 orphans lived in appalling, filthy conditions and went to bed hungry [again]. And we never heard a single word about that either.

Today children were confined to cribs like caged animals—left to lie in their own waste for hours and hours, banged their heads on the bars of the crib to self-soothe, bit their fingers until they bled, rocked endlessly just for something to do, and consumed a diet of not much more than cabbage broth. But it’s too hard to speak about this reality---so we don’t.

Today children who turn five throughout Eastern Europe will be given a death sentence—also known as a transfer to a mental asylum for children and adults. There they will spend the rest of their [numbered] days confined to beds or cribs and will never feel the warmth of the sun on their faces or the cool breeze blowing. Shhhhh….we don’t want to talk about that either.

Sadly, even those of us who do know about the atrocities that happen to orphans in faraway lands, we too don’t want to talk about it. We’re afraid of what people will think if we share too much. We shy away from posting graphic and tough images and stories on our social networks just in case it offends a friend--can't be ruffling any feathers, now can we?

Sometimes it’s just so much easier to get on with our lives and pretend that this stuff doesn’t really exist.

I guess it’s easier to talk about the things that don’t hold us accountable to actually DO something. It’s easier to talk about other people’s “issues” when there is not a single thing that we can do to make a difference. That gets us off the hook.

But how vastly different it is when we come face to face with calamity that we CAN do something about. That, my friends, is a whole different story. Why? Because the Scripture is as clear as daylight.

Proverbs 24:12 tells us, "Once our eyes are opened we cannot pretend we do not know what to do. God, who weighs our hearts and keeps our souls knows we know and holds us responsible to act."

God holds us responsible to ACT!

I know how it goes. I used to be that person. I never wanted to see the hard things in this world. I was happy and content within my cushy four walls. The hard things made me feel so darn uncomfortable. Pain and suffering were something I did everything I possibly could to avoid for most of my life. After all, conviction would mean I would actually have to do something about it…and that was just too hard, required too much time, there are too many things on my plate…yada, yada, yada.

That was until the day I prayed a simple prayer…not really knowing or fully understanding that God would take my words at face value and He WOULD do as I asked. Because He’s God—the Almighty Father, the creator of the heavens and the earth—and He loves to answer our prayers.

“Break my heart for the things that break yours, Father!”

That was all it took. God rocked my world! He turned it upside down and inside out. He opened the eyes of my heart and I began to see…truly SEE!

I shared earlier in the week that something occurred to me as I was praying over the 119 children who got quickly added to this list. I remembered that there was a time in my own life when I just had absolutely no idea about what the word “transferred” meant next to a child’s name. I was completely clueless…until God began to break my heart for the things which shattered His. I began to do research. All of a sudden I wanted to know what happened to orphans. I needed to know.

The more I learned, and the more my heart broke, the more I came to realize how very little the orphan crisis was spoken about in churches. I could not remember a single time in all my years of being a Christian and sitting in church faithfully every Sunday that I had heard a sermon taught on their desperate plight. Not once. I realized that the ones who did know the truth were like an army being sent into battle with very little reinforcements—facing a giant far bigger than anyone was talking about—yet with very, very little help to gain any significant victories.

I do think that things are getting better. I do think the message of the orphan crisis is starting to be shared in congregations more now than it did even five years ago. But what a long way we still have to go! I am always shocked when people write to me after I share something on my blog and say, “I had no idea!” Even with all the social media, the internet, and continuous news channels--people still do not know.

We have work to do! The Body of Christ NEEDS to know. The world is not called to care for the fatherless. We are! It’s as simple as that. We’re the ones who are meant to be going, giving, supporting, bringing them home, advocating, praying, and doing everything we possibly can to make a difference. We’re the ones who are meant to be getting our hands dirty and getting uncomfortable (Lord forbid!) for the sake of the Gospel.

IF NOT US....THEN WHO???

You know what I think? I think we need a massive awakening! I think the sleeping church needs to wake up and start talking about the hard things. We need to be talking about the catastrophes which happen not very far from where we live. This is reality, friends. It is not some made-up, Photoshopped picture someone did as a sick joke! This is real life.

This is the face of desperation--of abandonment, neglect and poverty!

These are HUMAN BEINGS we're talking about—with feelings, hurts, pains, needs, emotions, and desires.

Did you know that this sort of thing even existed? I am going to keep this post always, so that I can send it to the next person who writes to me and protests, "But isn't an institution in a child's home country better than bringing a foreign child to this country?" You have GOT to be kidding me!

These are the Father’s beloved chosen people! Created in His image with a purpose and a destiny—each one of them with the potential to become so much more than what they currently are. Every precious child is a gift from His hand. Why can we not see that? Why do we turn away and refuse to get involved? Why is getting the next best gadget on the market so much more important than the life of a child who will certainly perish if he remains where he is?

Why is it so easy to mourn Whitney…but not shed a single tear for the ones such as these?

When people ask me, “What can we do?” I always respond, “What can’t we do?”

We need an awakening, friends! A movement which ignites a fire and a passion in each one of us that makes us want to jump in and do anything we possibly can to help.

Some will read this and say, “Not my calling! Not my problem!” I have news for you today…IT IS! James 1:27, Psalm 83:3, and many, many other Scriptures tell us in no uncertain words that it IS our problem. It’s non-negotiable—it’s not a calling, it’s a COMMAND. Big difference.

I don’t know about you guys, but I am so out of excuses. I am completely over myself! As I sit writing this I cannot think of one good enough reason as to why I should NOT do everything I humanly can to try and help. Those 119 children with the word “transferred” next to their name? They are living on borrowed time. I was once told that 95% of them will die once they are transferred to a mental asylum. For some of them, when that day of transfer comes, so does the word “unadoptable." Their time to find a family has run out. They will literally spend the rest of their days confined to a crib, bedridden!

It IS our problem!

credit: all photos from google

AWAKEN US, Lord! Stir our hearts, ignite passion in us, show us where we can get involved, shift our priorities. Challenge us, show us what truly matters in this life, make us uncomfortable so that the only place we find true contentment is not in the things of the world, but in relationship with You…doing Your will, obeying your commands! Convict our hearts, Lord Jesus!

Wake us up for the sake of the millions who wait…and wait…and wait!

IF NOT US...THEN WHO?"

Sad reality part 2

This post is the continuation of a series another adoptive mom has shared on her blog recently. I am reposting it for several reasons, first to raise awareness, second to hopefully motivate and encourage some to do something about it, but mainly to provide a window into Valentin’s world so we can gain some understanding. The post is about children who have been transferred to institutions from their baby houses (orphanages). The environment in Valentin’s orphanage is better then what you will read about in an institution but not by much. For our close friends and family, when you meet Valentin it may be shocking to see how delayed he is and some of his behavior may be puzzling so we hope that reading this will provide you with a little understanding of why he is the way he is.

As you read about the conditions Valentin is coming from and the doom he was headed for, please also keep in mind that your love, prayers, and donations are rescuing him from this fate. Valentin could have easily been any one of the children pictured and talked about below, but because of YOU he will be one of the few rescued ones.

From the Treasures of Darkness (part 2) blog post:

"Yesterday I shared the first in a series this week on creating an awareness of the children who get "transferred" to institutions, or are confined to "laying rooms". If you missed that post, go and read it before this one.

I am so thankful to my friend, Julia, for allowing me to share their experiences at her son's institution. Thank you, sweet Julia, for being willing to shout from the rooftops that every child is valuable and precious to God...and therefore to us too! You are a true warrior in the Kingdom, my friend. Never grow weary of fighting the battle that rages for the lives of the ones who have no voice. Keep on keeping on, faithful servant.

Tomorrow I will share my own heart on this issue. Oh my! Some things are just so, so difficult to put into words."

The Sad Reality (Part Two)
By Julia Nalle

"Writing The Sad Reality (part one) drained me. I needed nearly two months to find the courage to write it. Then I needed over a week to write it, and several days to come out of the deep funk that writing it caused. We saw a lot of ugly things at the institute where Aaron lived. Some we will never share publicly. We chose to share The Sad Reality because there are too many children who have no voice with which to tell the world of their suffering, and we have a responsibility to be their voice, as Proverbs 31: 8-9 demands:

"Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy."

There is more to the story of The Sad Reality. I didn't want to write it, and just by thinking about it, I am already slipping into a funk that only God can heal. But the story needs telling. So here it is: The Sad Reality, Part Two.

We walked the mile to and from Aaron's institute sixty-five times before we were finally allowed to cart him away to freedom. Sixty-five times we entered those shoddy gates and trod those uneven walks. Sixty-five times we struggled to accept the sights, sounds and smells of a hidden world that shook us to the core. Sixty-five times we walked, watched and grieved.

It is difficult to describe the despair I felt every day as we passed a shed filled with boys who had absolutely nothing to do. It filled me with grief when some of them cried out, "Mama!" hoping that I could offer them the same escape I was offering Aaron. It was hard to process this world, in which survival of the fittest reigned and played out every day between boys of widely varying sizes and ages-- a world in which hitting, fighting and abuse is normal and goes largely unchecked. Beyond that, how could we face the reality of the hidden boys, the ones we only glimpsed, the ones whom we knew lay behind closed doors in their cribs-- silent, lonely, attention-starved, stiff, far beyond any hope of release-- dying?

We couldn't. We just walked back and forth to and from the institute, holding hands, supporting each other, joking about anything we could find, scheming about our blog posts, biding our time until the wheels of bureaucracy turned far enough to allow us to go back to our safe, predictable world with Aaron in tow.

Aaron's institute housed older boys from a wide area of his country. So far as we know, only a few had any family in town, and only about two or three of these had any visits during our time there. Because of this, his institute wasn't well set up for visitors. There were no indoor visiting rooms at all, and for outdoor visits there was only one designated area: a painted steel gazebo with rotting wooden benches, situated just outside the administration office's door.

Aaron quickly got tired of this gazebo. After a year of confinement, he was ready to explore, and we were his passport to freedom. For our part, we preferred the gazebo. It was our assigned visiting area, the only place anyone ever really gave us permission to be. We were safe there. No dogs bothered us there, and no one shooed us away there. Each time we followed our wandering fugitive out of that gazebo, we knew that we were setting ourselves up for trouble. And we did get into trouble, more than once.

We finally reached a compromise with Aaron. We gravitated toward a neutral spot at the center of the institute, a sort of crossroads from which we could see nearly everything that was happening there. We could see the main gate, so we wouldn't miss the arrivals and departures of the institute's vehicles-- in Aaron's opinion the most important events of any day. We could see the dining sheds in which the boys took meals and snacks (picture below, at Rob's back). And we were on the paths by which all three groups of outdoor boys reached these sheds, so we could watch and join their parades to and from meals. Just down the path (to Rob's right) was the shed filled with the moaning boys, the lowest-functioning of the outdoor boys. Beside us was the building in which they slept. We didn't really like being there, but Aaron was happy there, and at least when we were there no one could accuse us of spying.

And so the crossroads became our new home at the institute. By accident or design, we received an unspoken, tenuous permission to spend three hours every day at the center of a secretive facility. We saw nothing of what went on behind closed doors, but everything that happened in the open, we saw. That's how we came to see the second part of our sad reality.

In that lowest functioning group of outdoor boys, there were three older ones whom we got to know. They had a job carrying things back and forth from their shed area to their building, strange benches with multiple holes, so we saw them every day. All three were precious. One laughed and called out to Aaron and to us with glee every time he passed. His vocabulary was limited, but he always spoke with gusto. His legs were bent at odd angles, and one was much longer than the other, so he hobbled up and down the path each day; but he always laughed and clapped his hands, filled with joy. The second was silent, lost in his own world. He stared at us from a distance and gave us crooked smiles. The third was a sweet angel with Down Syndrome. He was short, bowlegged and as gentle as can be. Alone of the three, this one would wander over to spend time with us. He gently handled and played with Aaron's toys. He spoke to us softly. He was a perfect gentleman in his behavior. Unfortunately, in his person he was anything but gentlemanly. His smell was overpowering, and when he offered his hand for us to shake, we could see why: his hands were stained with excrement.

At first we assumed that he simply didn't know how to take care of himself. We also assumed that the caretakers gave older boys like him much less help in taking care of themselves than they gave the younger ones. It wasn't really surprising that a boy of his age and in his condition would need a bath.

But later, we began to understand that all three of these boys were dirty every day. And we knew that Aaron's institute had a good staff that wouldn't put up with filth. One day, every boy at that institute got new clothes in preparation for a visit from a psychiatric professional, but these three boys were still dirty. It took us forever to understand, finally, what was happening: The mysterious things the boys were carrying every day were potty benches. These boys were washing out potty chairs every day and moving the benches back and forth from the building to the shed. They were responsible for cleaning up after 20 boys every day, probably twice per day. They were the boys from "the picture," all grown up and graduated to the next logical step in their sad existence.

We already knew that the older boys performed essential jobs there. Aaron's institute was poor, and needed every available resource. They had to put the boys to work. We had seen some carrying water from the outside well, carrying laundry and setting tables in the sheds before meals. The luckiest ones worked with the hired caretakers on the grounds, bringing in food or keeping things neat. The unluckiest, our three friends, scrubbed the potty chairs. They did their job with an innocent willingness that brought tears to our eyes. And they carried the marks of their job everywhere they went, in the form of filth that in their circumstances was just too hard to remove.

Why do I share this? Why is poop so important? Because of the indignity of their situation. There is nothing wrong with requiring the boys to work; in fact, it is probably a benefit for most. But for these three sweet boys to end up in this sad situation, doomed to hold the least desirable job at the institute for who knows how long, is just deeply sad. It lowers them to subhuman status. As we said before, their plight is a result of poverty, not of neglect. Those caretakers do the best they can with what they have, and they work hard. Where there are no plumbing facilities for so many boys, someone must scrub potty chairs. The only practical way to solve the problem would be to remove these boys from their untenable situation. They simply shoudn't be there in the first place. If so many boys were not cast off at birth, doomed for life to impoverished institutions, then no one would have to scrub potty chairs for 20 boys at a time. If more people in their country and ours would open their homes to these children who have been orphaned through no fault of their own, then no one would have to suffer degradation like this. If the nutty bureaucracies of their country and ours didn't set up so many hurdles in the adoption track, then more of these poor kids could find homes and families of their own.

Nearly every child in the Eastern European orphanages (baby houses) who has a mental or physical disability is transferred to an institution like Aaron's by the age of four, five or six. All are stowed away in these underfunded institutes, in villages far off the beaten path. They receive no education and no therapy, so they make no progress. They will live and die at these places or the even worse adult institutions that await them. They have little to no hope of ever leaving. It is their sad reality.

And as long as they live in such places, the unlucky ones will get demeaning jobs like these.

That's why we're still shouting about all of this months down the road. It's why we often find ourselves discussing, agonizing, praying and struggling with our memories and stories. It's why we want the church to march into these places. Where the church has entered, there have been life-giving changes for the boys and girls inside these institutions. We need the church to march into that village and that institute. We have no idea how it will happen, or when. We are two very small people with a bit of knowledge and little else. We don't know where to turn. We can't believe that God would open those gates for us, leave us there far longer than need be, show us all of this hurt and then leave the situation forever unchanged.

All we know to do is pray, advocate, yell, holler, scream and shout. It takes a lot of time, and it's exhausting. Sometimes it seems pointless and fruitless. But those poor boys need a voice. They need someone to cry out for them. The Lost Boys need to be found."

Sad reality part 1

This post is part of a series another adoptive mom has shared on her blog recently. I am reposting it for several reasons, first to raise awareness, second to hopefully motivate and encourage some to do something about it, but mainly to provide a window into Valentin’s world so we can gain some understanding. The post is about children who have been transferred to institutions from their baby houses (orphanages). The environment in Valentin’s orphanage is better then what you will read about in an institution but not by much. For our close friends and family, when you meet Valentin it may be shocking to see how delayed he is and some of his behavior may be puzzling so we hope that reading this will provide you with a little understanding of why he is the way he is.

As you read about the conditions Valentin is coming from and the doom he was headed for, please also keep in mind that your love, prayers, and donations are rescuing him from this fate. Valentin could have easily been any one of the children pictured and talked about below, but because of YOU he will be one of the few rescued ones.

It is going to be hard to read, I wanted to turn my eyes a million times, but it is so important we know the truth. It would be easy for me to ignore the great needs in the world and only focus on myself but that is not the life God has commanded me to live. I am commanded to care for orphans and to love others more then I love myself and in order to do that I must know how desperate the needs are. Will you join me in learning the truth?

From the Treasures of Darkness (part one) blog post

"Unless you are involved in the adoption community and hear stories time and time again of children who have been transferred to mental asylums, or "institutions," how could you possibly know the fate of these children? How could you know the urgency of their situation? There was once a time when I had no idea. If I ever heard the word "institution" I just assumed it was some kind of government run organization where orphans lived. No big deal. How wrong I was!
As I prayed about it over the last few days, I felt sure in my heart that I needed to dedicate this week of blogging to sharing something with you that is so seldom spoken about, that is sometimes easier to pretend doesn't exist, and is a reality that is so often hidden in darkness....

The shocking plight of the child who has been transferred (or is confined to a "laying room").
Why? Because I believe that this issue needs to be brought into the light more often. When the light of Christ shines gloriously into even the darkest of situations...the darkness must flee. As the body of Christ, we need to shine the light of Jesus and do whatever we possibly can to make a difference in the lives of these children who are literally wasting away behind locked doors. But first, we need to know the truth of what happens in faraway places--where "treasures of darkness" are hidden away from the eyes of the world (Isaiah 45:3). They truly are "riches stored in secret places" as the book of Isaiah describes.

I am praying that the eyes of our hearts will be opened this week as I share stories, photos, and the most amazing miracle accounts with you. It's the magnificent power of God to redeem a child! I am asking the Father even now to stir our hearts into action so that we can all do something (big or small) to make a profound difference in the life of a child.

To begin this week, I asked my special friend, Julia, if I could share her story. Julia and her hubby, Rob, adopted their very handsome boy, Aaron, from an institution in 2010. To say that their lives were forever changed is an understatement! They returned home completely broken, but so willing to do whatever it took to create an awareness of the precious ones they had to turn their backs and walk away from...the "Lost Boys" who got left behind.

Julia's account of their experience is chilling. I read it through tears. But, my friends, this is reality. This is what really happens. This is the stuff people don't want to talk or read about because as they so often say--It's just "too hard." But it's no longer good enough to turn a blind eye! It's just not. We can no longer carry on in our llittle bubbles and pretend that these atrocities do not exist...because they do.

And, like it or not, it IS our problem!"

The Sad Reality (Part One)
by Julia Nalle
"Many of you have seen this picture. It was taken back in 2006 at a special-needs institute in Eastern Europe. It's a shocking picture that appears to speak of abuse and neglect. Soon after we committed to Aaron, I saw it on the internet. It stopped my heart. I could hardly look at it. It horrified me, because I knew that Aaron had been transferred to a special-needs institute just like these poor boys. At that time, I had little idea what that meant. My one consolation was that the picture wasn't taken in Aaron's country.

Our first days at Aaron's institute were overwhelming-- the chaos and craziness, the unnerving sights, sounds, and smells. We could hardly take it all in. We wanted to run and hide and play with Aaron separately in some safe corner away from all of the disquiet. But Aaron delighted in his newfound freedom, and he wanted to roam the grounds. Although he had lived at his institute for an entire year, he had seen only a small part of it. So he set out to explore, with the three of us in tow. It made us uncomfortable. We weren't sure the staff wanted us spying out their secrets, and we were embarrassed by some of the things we saw. So we tried to contain Aaron, keep him in our assigned gazebo up by the gate. But Aaron's legs could not be contained, and we had no parental authority with him as yet, so we walked.

His favorite new route took us past the shed where the lowest-functioning boys spent their summer days. They had absolutely nothing to do but wait for the next snack or mealtime. They all sat on their groundcloths, staring, moaning, crying. At first, we could hardly bear to look.

Around the corner was a large building which, we were told, used to house Aaron's group. It was crumbling, but the caretakers still used parts of it. On the far end was a shed for the institute's tractor and wagon. The near end contained what we thought were broken-down bathroom stalls with rows of potty chairs. Because it was doorless and dilapidated, we assumed that it was being used for storage. For several days, as we walked that way so that Aaron could see the tractor, we walked right by that shed full of boys and right by those filthy bathroom stalls with their rows of potty chairs without ever connecting the two. We thought we were seeing a junk pile. Our minds couldn't grasp what we were seeing.

Aaron also wanted us to see his friends from his group, the highest group. He wanted us to see his world, and he wanted his friends to see and share his new toys. We tried to stop him, but in the end we always went along. Because of Aaron's persistence, we were forced to face the uncomfortable sights, sounds and smells of his world all through those first weeks. The caretakers were uncomfortable with our presence, embarrassed by what we might see, but they didn't stop us.

Once again, much of what we saw didn't register. It was too chaotic to grasp at first glance. So the first time we rounded the corner and found Aaron's group all sitting on little chairs around the grounds, we didn't immediately understand. Our minds could only absorb it in small pieces. It took us a while to realize that we were seeing "The Picture," the one at the top of this post, in real life. It was a sad reality, shocking because we knew that our boy had lived this way for a year, but also softened because we knew the hearts of the caretakers.

I've prayed and considered how best to tell this part of our story. I don't want to sensationalize our experience, and I don't want to horrify anyone. I am not interested in raising an uproar, even if I could. I only want people to know about the plight of the children who aren't adopted from the baby houses and end up being transferred.

When you first see this picture you probably think, as I did, that it speaks of abuse and neglect. And so it may, in the place where it was taken. But neglect is not necessarily the norm in all such institutes. We have to understand that these Eastern European mental institutes are simply poor, extremely poor. These countries are poor, and most of their citizens are poor. We were told that a college-educated teacher might expect to make only about $3000 US per year. It is not surprising that in such impoverished countries, the poorest citizens-- orphans committed to mental institutions-- have to endure conditions that most of us find shocking. These institutions depend entirely upon money allotted to them by the government, and they're not high on the budget priority list. They rarely receive private donations-- those go to the baby houses-- and the church seems to be most interested in putting shiny brass roofs on all of its neglected buildings.

At Aaron's institute, the staff works hard to make ends meet. They feed the boys as well as they can, and although none of them are emaciated (unlike the picture), they do not have an overabundance of food. It is just enough. The staff is small, too small. The caretakers are overworked and grossly underpaid in their thankless, highly depressing jobs. Their caretaking chores include all of the cleaning and laundry for over 100 boys. They are also commissioned to weed the flower beds and sweep the sidewalks and yards. Many of the buildings don't have indoor plumbing, and even if they do, they are not equipped to handle large volumes.

Thus, the potty chairs. It is a very sad reality. The only way so few caretakers can manage the daily bodily functions of so many boys is to sit them all down on their potty chairs at the same time, several times each day. When you see cute little toddlers sitting on the potty, you get one picture; but walking in on about 20 older boys, all sitting undressed on tiny potty chairs, is a whole different image. It's an image I will never forget. In this case it speaks not of abuse, but of poverty. It speaks not of neglect, but of desperation. The exhausted caretakers at Aaron's institute love their boys, but need forces them to treat them like products on an assembly line. As time passed and we learned to know and love the individual boys, the indignity of their situation saddened us all the more.

Why do I share this? Because I have a duty to speak out for the helpless and the voiceless. We need to pray. We need to pray that God will inspire his church, in both that country and our own, to get its hands dirty, go into these forgotten institutes and minister to the Lost Boys and Girls. They need so much. Their caretakers are weary and overburdened.

At Aaron's institute, we have to send a powerful message that these boys are wanted. Aaron's adoption is not enough. Brady and Heath also desperately need families so that the authorities can see that there is hope for all the rest of the Lost Boys. They cannot be forgotten. I pray that God will show us how to open up Aaron's institute so that the church can go marching inside. I desire with all my heart to see His light and His love offered to those precious boys and their weary caretakers."

Part 2 tomorrow.