An Offensive Post about Adoption

This morning I went to meet my high school friend at her home, the orphanage. She lives on the 13th floor with lots of school-aged kids. The 12th floor houses all the babies. I've never been inside the 12th because the door remains locked and they don't welcome visitors. For a good reason: they've had trouble with human trafficking. 

Today I got a peek into the 12th. Rows and rows of cribs with babies inside, lying on their backs below white walls. Waiting for a family. Just a few months ago these babes were inside their mother's wombs, constantly cradled, warm and fed. Now they are alone most of the time.

Where are the families? How many of you reading this could bring an abandoned child into your family, make her your own daughter? But you haven't yet. Perhaps because you're unaware. You don't know that there are rows and rows of babies waiting on the 12th floor.

Or maybe you haven't pursued adoption because it's too expensive. Would you feel offended if I suggested... Sell the boat/cabin/land/airplane/motorcycle/camper? Don't build the house? Don't buy a nicer car? Don't replace the couch? Skip the trip to Mexico this year. Maybe don't put the boys in the most expensive travel team/sports camps? Enough new clothes and shoes. For heaven's sake stop getting your hair, nails and toes done for one year...and save a life instead. I'm sorry you're offended. After seeing those kids today, I just felt someone had to say something. They have nothing. Not even the arms of a family member to rest in.

Or maybe you think it's inconvenient. What else is this life for besides "to do justly, and to love mercy..." (Micah) or "look after orphans and widows" (James). If you are not fighting for justice, showing mercy, looking after orphans and widows, you've got a seriously lopsided faith. (Offended again, sorry).

I wish everyone of you reading this would consider adopting a child. I know some of you really, truly aren't called to. But I wonder if many of you think that God is going to call you specifically, when in reality, He has already called you. Let me lay it out again "do justly, love mercy" (Micah) "look after orphans and widows" (James). Small sampling.

And for those who really, truly aren't called to bring a lost child into your home, I wonder if you would consider supporting others who terribly want to adopt but are hindered, usually by the cost.

I also thought...you know what's really ironic? I bet some of you have adopted a dog or cat from the local shelter. That's cool, but have you given some real, serious thought to adopting a human child?

There are an estimated 150-200 million orphans in the world. If you saw the waiting, abandoned babies on the 12th floor you'd be writing an offensive blog post about adoption too. It's not my intention to affront anyone, still some of you may be put off because I'm saying 'use some of your wealth to take care of little ones who have nothing and no one', and 'it's everyone's responsibility to look after orphans'. This may be hard to hear, but I am speaking the truth in love. Furthermore, I know that you don't regularly see orphans in orphanages. I am here to tell you that kids are in bad situations and waiting for a home.

Revamped

I want to start off by saying thank you again for caring about this little Addington family. As I said in my last post I was encouraged to know that you're reading what I share here. Thank you, very sincerely, thank you for checking in.

Life has been revamped. We finished our 2+years with our former sending organization and are now sans organization -- but not without fellowship, support and accountability. We concluded our time as English teachers. We moved to a new apartment, new university, and Drew is now a student in the MBA program. We'll call it home for at least the next three years.

My parents helped us move the day before their departure. Mom and I packed up everything in one morning. Drew hired a truck, and Dad & Drew bore everything on their backs -- down from the 4th floor, then up to the 6th floor at our new place. It was an amazing show of masculinity.

Since then we've been working hard to transform a musty old flat into an effervescent and hospitable home. I'll show you pictures sometime in August when the last touches are in place.

This summer I am ever-thankful, perpetually feeling like I need to put my face on the ground in gratitude. We were concerned about lots of things, but everything worked out beautifully. How is it possible that God loves us so much and cares about the peewee details of our lives?

Face on the floorboards.

Thank You.

Miguel for the 96%...uh Correction >99%

What percentage of our blog readers will see Michael this year?

About 4%.

For the other 96% of you cool people, I prepared a few pictures.

Drew, apparently the site statistician, read the above and thought I was nuts. He reported that Chinese Neighbors has over 100 pageviews per day; about 3,100 views last month. I wasn't nuts, just clueless, and now enlightened to the reality that there are more of you reading than I guessed. That's super cooooooool. Thanks everyone for checking in with the Addington family in Changsha. I am feeling the love and care.

And it means that <1% of you will see our boy, and these pictures are therefore for the >99%...

if they're working...some of you said they're not working. I'll see if the statistician can do tech support too.

Michael is called by lots of names:

艾迈程 Ai Mai-Cheng

迈迈 Mai-Mai

Mike

Mikey

Michael

Michael Isaac

弟弟 di-di (that is, "little brother")

And a new one that Latin folks can appreciate -- Miguel.

Apparently Aunt Heather, the Spanish Ed. major, thinks of her nephew as "Miguel" in her head.

I think it's cool. Like, muy cool.

Mike Turns 1

July 18, 2011 -- Michael Isaac Sweatheart Chubster Wonderboy is one year old!

What a cool little dude!

While Wai-gong & Wai-po were still here we had a 3-way joint party for Wai-gong (age 47), my pal Qiu fen (21) and Mikey boy (1). The guest list was simple: Our family, four college seniors, four young adult orphans who I met at the welfare center.

Little Brother, Big Brother

Check out this collection of pictures comparing Mike & Titus at their first birthdays.

Hair

Mike's hair has been cut or buzzed at least six times.

Titus hadn't yet seen a scissors or clippers.

(No we did not dedicate him as a Nazarite.)

Rip Into It

Cake(s)

For Second-born...someone picked a cake up from the store.

For First-born: First-time over-zealous mom baked four or five different cakes.

She was slightly ridiculous.

Addingtons Like Apples

There's this Chinese game: Array a few items on the floor and see which one your baby picks. It says something about his future. What...we can only guess. Mike picked the apple.

Titus chose the apple too. They said "He will live in the Big Apple" or "He will bear good fruit" or "His life will be peaceful" (In Chinese 'apple' sounds like the word for 'peace').

Eat It

I want to show you more pictures of Mike. Maybe tomorrow?

Do you guys think Titus & Mike look alike? Who looks like Dad? Who looks like Mom?

Beggars, Prostitutes

This morning at the bus stop there was a gray, bent, skinny old man asking for change. Not unusual. I told him "Uncle, I generally don't give money but are you hungry? I'll give you these crackers." He took them, then went over to the garbage can to dig around. Many people collect discarded plastic bottles and sell them to recycling centers for a tiny profit. But he wasn't doing that. Out of the slimy can he found a half-eaten steamed bun and ate it quickly. Then he pulled out a plastic cup with a straw that had a couple sips of milk tea at the bottom. Drank that too. After witnessing this I thought I'd better get him something a little better than crackers.

How destitute does one have to be to beg?

Or scavenge for half-eaten, mostly-drunk trash as sustenance?

I have often thought about beggars. How did he get to this point? Is she a grown-up orphan? Drug-addict? Vagabond? Has he been begging from infancy? (I have seen many babies with moms begging.) Does she have a family?

I have often wondered about prostitutes, too. What happens when she gets 'too old'? Onto the streets? Are the old lady beggars former prostitutes?

Not much room for me to be conceited if I give any thought at all to these people.

Hollow

They're gone.

Saying goodbye is awful. You feel hollow and sick for half a day.

Peace comes softly.

But you still miss 'em. The hollow sick feeling resurfaces intermittently for the next year or so until you can touch their faces again.

And why do I live here again?

Peace, peace, attain to that still and quiet place where you trust God.

Recall, 'He Himself is our peace.'

I will be still.

Butterfly Home

Guest Post by Jen

What would you do if you were told,

"Your baby is dying - send him to the orphanage"?

or

"Your baby needs a life saving operation that will cost five years salary"?

For many families in China this hopeless situation is a reality and many children are abandoned.

The Butterfly Home is the first hospice for children and families to give them hope, loving care and a future. FACT: half the children they care for die in loving arms. FACT: half the children they care for live and find forever loving homes.

Mike and I first met the Butterfly Home founders four weeks ago after Rachel had made the initial contact for us. Mike and I immediately felt a great appreciation and respect for Lyn and Allan and the loving service they are providing here in China. We are in awe of their compassion, commitment, dedication and perseverance. During our casual orientation visit for volunteers they shared with us their vision. They shared the stories of all the babies presently in their care.

My heart was pounding deep inside my chest by the time we left. As we walked down the four flights of stairs the lump in my throat was making it hard for me to breathe. I burst out the doorway into the alley where I couldn't suppress what was welling up inside me any more. All my emotions poured forth and left me a weeping mess.

We hadn't even met the children yet, but we knew they were blessed. These children's lives will be different because two people decided to do something about it. There are so many other little ones abandoned, left to die. It breaks my heart. As a mother, grandma, and person who works with special needs children, I'm crushed at the thought.

Mike and I had the privilege to love on the babies at the Butterfly Home for a two afternoons each week since we've been here. One of the little girls has been adopted and Mike's role was to familiarize her to a white male face with whiskers, like her daddy waiting in North Carolina. Angel took to "Daddy" Mike right away and they enjoyed many afternoons of play together.

The first time I held William I carefully assessed how fragile he was. His little hands and feet were delicate and weak. His tiny chest expanded and contracted so deeply as he labored hard to breathe. He stared past me as I rocked him I wondered if he even knew I was holding him. My bucket load of emotions was about to spill over when I thought, "God, where are you"?

Simultaneously this little man I was holding turned his beautiful brown eyes toward me and he flashed the biggest, longest, most gorgeous smile. I can't put into words that moment. But I know He was with us. Peace, love and trust packaged into a baby's smile. What a gift!

Yesterday was our last day to play with the little pumpkins at the Butterfly Home. Mike and I have gotten to know each of their personalities and they are absolutely adorable. We thanked Allan and Lyn for opening our eyes to this huge need here in China and for the privilege of cuddling the babies alongside their Aunties. Mike and I struggled through the last hour we were there, knowing we'd be saying goodbye.

Mike and I walked back to campus, both of us crying in the drizzling rain. Mike said it was like Our Father was crying with us.

"I tell you the truth, whatever you did for the least of these brothers and sisters of mine you did for me."

Mike and I are being challenged by this by this truth.

- Jen

Please take a good look around the Butterfly Home website.

Deaf Man Meets Blind Man on Scooter

Guest Post by Jen

Mike and I have been here for four weeks. There are six million people living in Changsha along with all their bicycles, push carts, scooters, cars, taxis and buses but I have never seen an accident until a few nights ago.

Mike and I do a lot of walking but usually not after dark. We decided to go for a stroll around campus earlier this week. We walked to the campus grocery store area where women gather every night to line dance, Chinese style. We decided to walk a little further and this was our conversation:

Jen - "It sure is dark on these streets, they could use some street lights."

Mike - "They probably don't have the electrical resources."

A few cars and mopeds without headlights have passed by us. A few pedestrians are out. There isn't a sidewalk and the road is narrow and sloped.

Jen - "I don't know, I don't feel like this is safe."

Mike - "It probably isn't."

I need to tell you that Mike has some hearing loss in his left ear and he is wearing a dark navy shirt with jean shorts. The only thing that would be more invisible is a black cat.

We both hear something coming up behind us. I turn my head and see a moped without headlights and move tight to the curb. I see Mike turn his head and assume he sees the same thing. What he sees is a car further up the road and decides to move over to the other side of the street. He steps out in front of the guy on the moped without lights. The guy "lays down" his bike in an attempt to save Mike from taking the brunt of the bike. Both men and moped are down on the pavement in the middle of the narrow street.

I hear, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

I hear excited shouting in a language I desperately am trying to understand but I cannot. Both men get up. This biker guy could be angry. I'm scrolling my brain for something in Chinese to say.

"Dui bu qi! Dui bu qi! Dui bu qi!" comes out of my mouth.

Panic strikes my thoughts. "dui bu qi" or "bu ke qi," which is it?!? One means "I'm sorry" and the other means "don't be so polite."

Mike helps the guy pick up his bike and he flips open his seat and finds the contents intact. I've had a moment to take a deep breath and now say with confidence, "Dui bu qi! Dui bu qi!"

The electric scooter guy repeats, "Dui bu qi! Dui bu qi! Dui bu qi!"

We can't tell if he's mocking our attempts of a sincere apology or he's upset that he just picked off a foreigner in the middle of the street. There is no time for chit chat. There's a car waiting behind us and he has a take out order to deliver. He shakes Mike's hand and he is off on his scooter.

We decide our evening stroll is over and start heading home. We come around the corner and our biker friend is collecting money for his delivery. We're not sure what the protocol for this kind of incident in this culture is and there is a huge language barrier. We spin on a kuai and head the other direction so both parties can save face (and pretend it didn't happen).

I've now witnessed my first accident. No one was hurt. We now have a better understanding and appreciation for all the unnecessary and continual honking and beeping that goes on every minute, everywhere.

Oh, and it's okay to laugh. I haven't stopped laughing since it happened. Mike's a little more sensitive about it but he's laughing too.

We do have a very wise tip to pass on in case you are ever in China and need to cross the street:

Strategically place yourself alongside of or in the middle of veteran Chinese street crossers.

We've included this photo which demonstrates the technique.

Other helpful tips:

- Don't let the tiny women with three inch spiked heels fool you. They can move.

- It is okay to slowly make your way out into oncoming car traffic but NEVER take on a bus.

- Don't panic if you're temporarily stranded in the middle of the road and cars are zipping by in both directions around you. This is common.

- Don't run. This is similar to the idea that you never take off running from a mean looking dog staring you down.

- Jen

Flying Tigers Memorial Museum

Guest Post by Jen

We returned two days ago from a forty-eight hour excursion to Zhijiang, China. We took a five hour bus ride with two wiggly boys and four adults. A favorable ratio. The views of China's countryside were beautiful and included many terraced rice patties and mountainside crops, valleys, lakes, mountains, gorges, streams, waterfalls, tunnels and bridges.

We chose Zhijiang as a destination because it has the only museum in China dedicated to the Flying Tigers. Mike's father, Paul J. Smith was a pilot in WWII with the rank of 2nd Lt. He flew 104 missions in China. His first mission was escorting bombers to Changsha, the city in which Drew and Rachel reside.

Rachel's Chinese language instructor's husband is the Provincial museum leader in Changsha and he connected us to the Flying Tiger's Memorial Museum director in Zhijiang. The director was excited to learn that descendants of a Flying Tiger pilot was coming to visit the museum.

At 9:30 pm we were met at the bus station by a museum host, Mr. Zang, and a driver who took us to a very nice hotel. Rachel put Titus and Michael to bed while Mike, Drew and I were taken to a restaurant where we were served an incredible amount of food. I think it was then that we realized that this was not going to be an ordinary trip to a museum.

The next morning we were escorted to another private room for breakfast where we were greeted very warmly by Mr. Wu, the museum director, along with other directors and employees. Drew and Rachel were able to communicate clearly while cuing us in on proper etiquette when meeting and dining in more formal settings. We gave Drew permission to express our gratitude in any way he deemed appropriate. Drew has a great sense of humor and at times I feel he secretly enjoys our ignorance. But this was serious and we completely trusted him... we had no choice!

We met our delightful tour guide, Ms. Song, at the museum who was accompanied by a local T.V. reporter. Drew and Rachel translated information for us.

It was apparent that the Chinese who know the history of the Flying Tigers are so appreciative and hold high regards for the American soldiers who fought alongside the Chinese against the invading Japanese. I was personally in awe of the gratitude and respect they continued to demonstrate towards us, the descendants of a man who came to serve them seventy years ago. Mr. Wu sited us as being the first family of three generations, descendants of a Flying Tiger, to have visited the Museum.

Memorial dedicated to the First American Volunteer Group

Titus and Michael made friends quickly and were continually being played with and be cared for thoughout the day.

WWII Memorial Archway for Acceptance of Surrender

Surrendering Hall, the meeting place to negotiate the Japanese surrender

Children at the Monument to Victory

We shared a meal at this beautiful restaurant that grows all its own food. The structures are built without nails, an architectural tradition of the Dong people group.

That afternoon we visited one of the longest covered bridges in the world, the Longjin Bridge. Original construction began in 1482.

Mr. Zang loved playing with Michael and Titus.

This pavilion is also constructed without nails.

Our evening meal consisted of 17 different food items enjoyed by us and the museum group. There were many toasts and pleasantries spoken.

An early morning walk gave us the opportunity to meet this man and his pet birds!

Another round of delicious breakfast options were served as we said our goodbyes and accepted gracious gifts from Mr. Wu. They drove us to the bus station, gave us food for the trip, carried our luggage, and helped with the boys. I mention these things because it was evident they wanted to meet our every need. Did I mention they waived all our admissions, paid for everything we ate and surprised us by purchasing our bus tickets back to Changsha?

Incredible hospitality. We're just the Smiths from a little town in Minnesota - there's a million people just like us. But for a short time, several new friends went out of their way to honor Mike's Dad and other Flying Tigers by blessing us.

I must add that while I was eating breakfast I thought about "How did I get here?"

Strangers are waiting on me, they are all glad we're here and I'm enjoying this feast with people I've never met. I didn't earn it, I can't repay it and I didn't do anything to deserve it. I'm here because 68 years ago Mike's Dad was willing to sacrifice his life for others. We've been acknowledged as his heirs and we are reaping the benefits of his service.

2000 years ago Someone sacrificed His life so we could be called His heirs and reap the benefits. It's overwhelming to think of the One and only sacrifice that was made so that I can come to the feast. I can't earn it, I can never repay it, and I certainly don't deserve it. The only thing I can do is receive it.

No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what He has prepared for those who love Him!

I am a visitor in a foreign land, pondering what going Home will be like.

-Jen