My Shoebox Perspective

I wanted to take a break from the normal adoption blog (nothing new to report) to write something that is personal to me.  What is more personal than our adoption journey you may ask?  My husband's adoption story. I have some thoughts running around in my head that I wanted to put to paper.  It might never be read because to convince my husband to share things online is nearly impossible.

It's Christmas season and the new rage is the Samaritan's Purse Christmas boxes.  It is such a wonderful ministry and such a practical way for parents to teach their children about giving.  It's a ministry that means so much to because 20 years ago my husband was the little boy opening that gift on Christmas.

20 years ago, my husband was growing up in an orphanage in the Philippines.  He was adopted when he was 12, but surprisingly (or by the grace of God) he doesn't have many memories of his childhood.  He has bits and pieces, but most of them are scary or leave him blaming himself for the actions a child isn't responsible for.  He remembers a few good things, but most of his hazy memories break my heart.  He is so matter-of-a-fact when he talks about it.  It was his normal. It is his story - he doesn't know anything different.  But to hear how his childhood differed from mine, it brings me to tears.  My sweet, strong husband has scars on his legs that resemble cigarette burns and he has marks on his back that look like scars, but he has no memory of what happened.  He remembers eating rice with one small piece of meat.  He would save the meat for the last few bites, then take teeny tiny bites, trying to make it last as long as possible.  The stories about the unsanitary bathroom conditions...well, you can imagine.  To hear him talk, it wasn't so bad. Because it was his normal.  But when i look at him, all I see is the man I so desperately love. I know what he missed out on as a child and that pain kills me inside. The childhood that we dream of giving to our future children, he didn't get that.

His one vivid memory is Christmas getting a shoebox.  Inside was a plastic white plane.  I don't know if he even remember what else was inside because it was all about that plane.  Something so simple, but to him, it was the first toy that he didn't have to share.  The first toy that was his.  In that moment, he wanted to be a pilot.

To my husband, that might not be a huge moment.  To my underly expressive husband, he probably would describe it as"cool" or "a good day."  That moment may not have changed his world.  He didn't become a Christian in that moment....he probably didn't see God working in his life (what kid does).  That moment wasn't the moment he decided he wanted to join the military, be a family man, change the course of his life, or anything.  To him that gift was just a good memory.  But to me, that gift was a moment where someone showed love to that little boy that grew up to be the person I love more than life itself. To me, that moment was someone giving him a reason to smile.  To me, it was a moment where someone made a mark on his childhood so much that it is one of the only memories he has. So it's a big deal to me.

My husband's childhood affected the man he is today.  He hoards his care packages on deployment. He hates to be tickled. But he smiles when he talks about his toy plane. And now as a Believer, he can see how God showed him love years before he understood who God was.

6th Grade - Post adoption

To all the families participating in packing of shoeboxes: Thank You.  Even if you can't comprehend the full magnitude of what you are doing, Thank You.  Even if you aren't "religious" and are only doing it because it's what good people should do, Thank You. Honestly, you probably won't give a child a earth shattering moment that changes their destiny.  It will be one day out of the year, and then they will go back to their reality. But in that one brief day, you can make them smile. Make them forget about the worries that children shouldn't even be aware of. Give them one moment of pure joy. And most importantly, one Christmas memory to hold onto forever.  You are giving that to someone's future husband/wife. And hopefully if they come to Christ one day, they can look back and see He had his arms of love around them before they even understood who He was.

To the people who packed my husband's shoebox: I am forever in your debt.  That little boy grew up into such a good man.  You showed him love before anyone else had the chance.  Before his parents adopted him and he found his forever family.  Before he met me and allowed me into his life. Your small gift to a faceless boy helps my heart not hurt so much when I think about his life before his adoption. Thank you for investing your time and resources into giving him a small gift.  You invested not only in him, but in me and our future family as well.  May God repay you more than we ever could.

(When I asked Gabe if I could post this, I was shocked he said yes....no deletions, so censorship, he liked it. When I asked him why, he said if it brings awareness and more people pack shoeboxes, he is ok with that...so everyone go pack a shoebox!)

*Donate Now at: http://www.samaritanspurse.org/our-ministry/donate-online/?page=donate-online&section=operation-christmas-child