Room for One More

Mother's Day was celebrated last week.  In Mexican public schools, they go all out for just about every holiday but for Mother's Day they cancel school, they have parties for the moms, they make gifts for the moms, practice dances to perform for the moms, etc.  It's big.

Imagine being an orphan without a mom during that entire week with reminder after reminder that you aren't like everybody else.  Imagine copying the following homework assignment into your homework notebook:  "Bring in a card for your mom, 20 pesos for flowers for her, and a picture of you and your mom for tomorrow."

Granted, some of my boys, even though they live in an orphanage apart from their biological mom - have a mom.  They know what she looks likes and throughout the year they see her every now and then.  Of my 9 boys this is the case for 5 of them.  These 5 wrestle everyday with the question of WHY - Why did she leave me?  Why can't she take care of me?  Why can't I live with her?  What is wrong with me?  Is it my fault?

But 4 of my boys don't even know what their mom looks like.  Several of these moms are dead or just left the kids at birth basically.

So to put it lightly - the week of Mothers Day can be a little rough in the life of an orphan.

One of my boys has lived at this same orphanage for the past 10 years.  I am sure that he couldn't pick out his biological mom out of a line up of women.  He has no idea what she looks like.  We have no photos... no idea if she is alive.  We know nothing.  But on Mother's Day he walked up to me and said the following...

"What day is it today?  It's Mother's Day right?  Well, Happy Mother's Day Caroline.  You and Sammy are my mom because you take care of all of us- of our whole dorm."

I can't begin to try to express how difficult verbal communication is for that child but it was one of the most eloquent and clearly communicated conversations I've ever heard come out of his mouth.

Fast forward 24 hours and I'm praying at the bedside of one of my other boys' beds with him before bed.  I finished.  We said "amen," and I gave him a hug and kiss goodnight as he says, "Caroline you forgot to pray for someone else in my family.  (I always pray for their family members)  You forgot to pray for you.  And you are in my family too." 

9 months.  9 boys.  I could list a ton of things that I'm sure that they have learned in that time but the truth is - I am the one who is learning.  My boys are teaching me all about adoption - about the spirit of adoption.  They are teaching me that there is always room for one more at the table, on the couch, in the home and in my heart.  When I feel like I can't handle the details of each of their 9 complicated lives and endless list of needs and demands - they somehow remind me that there is and should be room for more.  We can love more.