Xxxxx is hard to miss as he has a large tumor growing in the upper part of one side of his face. He has the most expressive eyes, and is a very tender little boy who is intelligent and kind. Xxxx has a repaired cleft and he too I had seen before in older photos I was lucky enough to get of Xxxxx. Both boys are available for adoption. 
As I sat in that room on those too small children's school chairs watching 5 little Central Asian boys, I asked myself a question...Why? Why are these dear sweet little boys overlooked by everyone? Why have they never known a mother and father's love? Why does God allow this to happen? Why does their gender and race make them less adoptable, why does their facial deformity and age automatically relegate them to inconsiderable status? As I asked how old Askar was and was told he was 8, the Director said he was so small because he had no one to love him, that he needed love to grow in all ways. Why? Why can't someone look at our boys and see that maybe, just maybe, they aren't all so bad and they should take a chance. I saw in each of these boys a wonderful son for someone, and believe me, if I were wealthier I would head home and start paperwork tomorrow. 
These boys are like Xxxxxxxx, totally adoptable and adaptable in every way and yet warehoused where no one can see their light, their hope.And once again, I was in tears...this is so hard...to see children, to hold them and hug them and see their shy little smiles knowing they are hoping against hope that they too can one day have a family. It is hard to have seen photos of a child like Xxxxxxx as he grew from an infant to a boy, seeing him in the background of photosof your own child knowing that he will remain behind. As I put Xxxxxxx to bed tonight, as I kiss him good night with his big grin, I will see Xxxxxx and Xxxxxx in my mind and I am sure I will have a hard time sleeping tonight. Why can't an older set of parents look at these 8 year old boys and say "Hey, I have ten years to give..." or why can't a younger couple say "I am willing to do it...they deserve me as much as any other child...".I found myself thinking of them over and over, realizing I will never forget them and wondering what in the world I could possibly do to help them. I could raise money for Xxxxxx's surgery to remove the tumor, which we have already committed to do...but after the surgery, what next? He still goes back to the dreary confines of an orphanage, to a desolate life filled with yearning for love, yearning to be special to someone. I took photos of both boys and will put them on my fridge, and if it give me a little stab in the heart each day, so be it...it is nothing compared to the loss and pain they must feel each and every day of their lives.
I will hold them up in prayer and in my heart, and trust that God has a plan that I don't know about and that He is carrying them. I will never, ever forget them.
As I sat in that room on those too small children's school chairs watching 5 little Central Asian boys, I asked myself a question...Why? Why are these dear sweet little boys overlooked by everyone? Why have they never known a mother and father's love? Why does God allow this to happen? Why does their gender and race make them less adoptable, why does their facial deformity and age automatically relegate them to inconsiderable status? As I asked how old Askar was and was told he was 8, the Director said he was so small because he had no one to love him, that he needed love to grow in all ways. Why? Why can't someone look at our boys and see that maybe, just maybe, they aren't all so bad and they should take a chance. I saw in each of these boys a wonderful son for someone, and believe me, if I were wealthier I would head home and start paperwork tomorrow. 
These boys are like Xxxxxxxx, totally adoptable and adaptable in every way and yet warehoused where no one can see their light, their hope.And once again, I was in tears...this is so hard...to see children, to hold them and hug them and see their shy little smiles knowing they are hoping against hope that they too can one day have a family. It is hard to have seen photos of a child like Xxxxxxx as he grew from an infant to a boy, seeing him in the background of photosof your own child knowing that he will remain behind. As I put Xxxxxxx to bed tonight, as I kiss him good night with his big grin, I will see Xxxxxx and Xxxxxx in my mind and I am sure I will have a hard time sleeping tonight. Why can't an older set of parents look at these 8 year old boys and say "Hey, I have ten years to give..." or why can't a younger couple say "I am willing to do it...they deserve me as much as any other child...".I found myself thinking of them over and over, realizing I will never forget them and wondering what in the world I could possibly do to help them. I could raise money for Xxxxxx's surgery to remove the tumor, which we have already committed to do...but after the surgery, what next? He still goes back to the dreary confines of an orphanage, to a desolate life filled with yearning for love, yearning to be special to someone. I took photos of both boys and will put them on my fridge, and if it give me a little stab in the heart each day, so be it...it is nothing compared to the loss and pain they must feel each and every day of their lives.
I will hold them up in prayer and in my heart, and trust that God has a plan that I don't know about and that He is carrying them. I will never, ever forget them.Cindy ... we will join you in prayer..
Thank you for sharing your heart.
