Reflections

It's about 9:00 in the evening on Saturday here in Guangzhou and I have my two little sweet Chinese daughters sleeping behind me on the bed while I type here in the dark. I can hear their soft breathing, especially Willow's as her cleft palate causes her to wheeze a little more than normal. My grown-up Barret (who's been our savior on this trip) and lovely wife Victoria are in the room next door. Cocooned in this serene setting, I can hear the hustle and bustle of night life along the Pearl River, with glitzy neon lights flashing off the waterfront buildings as if it were a clip from the Las Vegas strip. What a contrast! Since none of us are very sleepy, and someone needs to sit by the bedside of these somewhat helpless souls, I thought I'd just journal a few of my deeper thoughts and reflections over the last week or so.

I left the United States about twelve days ago with split emotions between utter excitement and enthusiasm to shear fear and trepidation. On the one hand I was beside myself just thinking of the wonderful joy to give a momma and a baba (mommy and daddy) to just one more fatherless (among the millions) child, with a home and some love, all in the hope of giving away what doesn't belong to us anyway, life. Selfishly (a life-theme I cannot seem to extract myself from), I anticipate that we as a family will no doubt have full cups, with greater measure than what we've ever poured out, even though our cups will be chipped and cracked along the way, sometimes leaking and almost empty. In an odd way, the thought of this often tough, but mostly rewarding commitment makes me happy inside. On the other hand, I feel the tension in my gut when I think too hard about what I might be leading my family into; another sibling (for some, one they won't have a chance to spend much time with), yet another young child that needs enormous amounts of love and attention from a remarkable mother that's already given almost half of her life toward mothering, a financial obligation that will force me into extra years of working beyond our typical and cultural "retirement" period, and an anxiety about whether I'll have the fortitude to hang in there to the end - giving all five (now) of my children and my adorable wife what they need from a dad and a husband well into the future, however long that might be. But when it's all said and done, the first far outweighs the last, thrusting me beyond the uncomfortable into the strangely comfortable. "For we walk by faith, not by sight." (II Corinthians 5:7)

And so, as I am about to lay my head on the pillow for another night, with three of my children beside me, my lifelong partner next to me, and my two eldest almost a straight diameter's length of the world beneath me, I rest in peace asking my sweet Jesus to do for us Kruggel's what only He could do, give us the sufficient grace He promises to help us give away what we cannot keep.

What a wonderful life this is.

Content in Christ,

Tom