With Love from Kyrgyzstan

Jacob had to be taken in to the doctor's office for a routine appointment, and I had asked my parents if they would mind having Matthew and Nathan over for a brief visit.  This way, I wouldn't have to parade all of my troops through the pediatricians office.  My mom called on the morning of the appointment, however, stating that both she and my father were feeling under the weather.  This was sad news in more than one regard.  OK, so I gathered my crew and we all set out for the doctor's office. On the way there Matthew complained, "But why do we have to go, Mom?! I want to go to Nana and Oh-oh's. I don't want to go to the doctors office."  I used this as an opportunity to explain that the world doesn't revolve around any one of us, and sometimes we need to do what is best for another person. 

Once checked in, we were asked to proceed to the "well waiting room" which is separated from the "sick waiting room" by a wall with end-to-end windows.  There were only chairs on our side of the waiting area; but, from previous visits, the boys new that the fish tank and all of the toys were on the other side.  They went straight to the windows to peer into the "fun" side of the waiting room.  Immediately kids from the other side of the windows came over, and, as if there were no glass barrier at all, they exchanged names, ages (it's very important to tell that part), and showed each other their toys.  My boys had each brought along a small toy airplane, so the exchange was complete with jet engine sound effects.  Feeling rather embarassed that they were just talking (loudly) through the glass, I kept trying to get them to sit in their chairs and look at a book.  But the excitment of new friends was unsupressable and the kids continued their conversation while the other mom laughed at the cute things they said.

Jacob's appointment was brief.  After he had endured his vaccination, we had to pass by the waiting rooms en route to a mom's group meeting that I had planned to attend.  The same family was still in there, so Matthew called out, "What? You are still here?! I hope you get to see the doctor soon! Byyee!!"  I could feel my face going flush both with embarassment and exertion as I struggled to carry the heavy baby seat, diaper bag, purse, as well as holding Nathan's hand.  "Matthew, let's go! Please stop shouting and talking to strangers."  As I looked back to talk to Matthew, I could see the family smiling and waving to him.

At the mom's group meeting, I was holding Jacob.  Nathan, who seems to be going through some sort of shy stage these days, clung to me. The only time his little face wasn't burried in my lap was when I gave him a snack.  Meanwhile, Matthew eagerly made friends with another little boy and began playing.  I kept calling over to him to make sure that he was playing nicely.  "Don't worry mom, we are sharing," he assured me. Other moms near by smiled and nodded their confirmations.

When the meeting concluded, we returned to the well waiting room to retrieve our jackets.  As before, the boys went right to the windows certain that new friends were on the other side.  This time, there were only two people on the other side, a little boy sat slumped onto his mom's shoulders.  "Hi!!!!" Matthew and Nathan sang through the glass with contagious smiles.  "No,no, no. Boys, we are going home. No time to talk, let's let that little boy rest." The boy barely turned his head at the commotion made by my little welcoming committee.  Ignoring me, Matthew's voice softened with sympathy as he called to the boy's mom, "What's wrong with him?"  In a sad tone, the mom called back, "Oh, he's not feeling good, sweetie."

"Matthew! Your coat, please," my patience was wearing thin, "Please don't bother that little boy." If I'm honest, I have to confess that in addition to wanting to get home I was also thinking, "we definitely don't want to catch whatever he has - that boy looks really sick! Let's get outta here!"

"Oh, it's OK!" the mom called back through the glass.  I smiled, but kept trying to get coats on my little guys.  With a hushed voice and eyes that mean business, I say, "No more talking, guys. Let's GO."   With coats on and zipped, we finally paraded toward the door.  Once again, we had to pass by the sick waiting room.  As Matthew followed behind me, he turned and called out to the little boy, "I'm sorry you're sick." And then, "I will pray for you."  I stopped, put my hand on his shoulder, and nudged him to keep walking.  I could hear the mom's sincerity in her voice, "Oohh, thank you, baby!" I could see in her eyes that she was genuinely touched by his spontaneous wishes and promise to pray for her son. 

Even so, in my head I was conjurring up a lecture for the ride home about how "we don't need to try and talk to every person we meet."  As I backed the car out of our spot, I was just about to remind Matthew that if he says he is going to do something, he had better keep his...

"Mom, we need to pray for that little boy. He's really sick."

Relieved that he remembered and saved himself from yet another mom lecture, I said, "Absolutely! Go ahead, you can pray right now while we are driving home.  I'll keep my eyes open, since I'm driving," I smiled at him through the rear view mirror.

As I listened to him pray and prayed along with him in my heart, I felt all my bottled up tension melting.  He said, "Amen." I thanked him for remembering his promise to pray for the little boy. I told him I was proud of him for the kindness he showed.  "But we don't need to strike up conversations with everyone we see..." I started.  Then I stopped.  The words hung in the air as I fell silent, replaying the scenes of the morning in my mind. 

I realized that everywhere he went, regardless of my embarassment,  he displayed abundant enthusiasm and sincere compassion.  In every case he was met with smiles.  While I tried to hush him, moms called back their confirmations that he wasn't bothering them at all. 

It's funny, I pray in the morning with the boys, thanking God for his great love for us, and often asking for opportunities for us to love each other and people that we might meet.  And yet, the whole time my little smile-maker is walking around loving on everyone who crosses his path, I'm feeling embarassed by his indiscrimnate friendliness.  Worrying that this will get him into trouble one day if he happens to befriend a kidnapper or something, selfishly thinking of myself, and fretting over social norms.

Ashamed.

I don't think I said another word aloud the whole way home.  My internal dialog, however, went something like this:  How terrible am I? Could I possibly be more wrong in how I approached things today?  Poor Matthew was greeted by smiles from strangers and stern looks from mom.  Nice. Real nice.  My words and morning prayers may say one thing, but what message am I truly sending with my actions?  What about all the talk about doing what's best for another person? It seems I'VE been the selfish one today.

Feeling rather convicted about my hypocrasy, selfishness, impatience and lack of compassion (just to name a few), I took a few minutes to talk to Matthew once we got home.  I told him about how much I love him, how blessed I am to be his mommy, and how I marvel at the person God created him to be. 

I just can't get over the compassion within this little boy who had such a different beginning to life than so many kids I know.  My son has suffered the loss of his birth family, birth land, and culture.  His physical delays were somewhat shocking (our pediatrician still recalls her first examination of him with such concern, having never seen a 14 month old in that condition).  What took place in his infancy is largly an unknown story.  And despite well-meaning caretakers, he certainly went without the much needed tender love, warm embraces, and compassion that my other two sons experienced from the moment they were born.  His need for love was met only at a very basic level, if at all, in those days. Yet, these days, he has so much love to give.

Don't get me wrong.  He's not perfect.  There are many days he does not choose to do what is most loving or kind.  There are many days I am pulling my hair out and wondering how to teach him the right things.  But I see within him a consistent display of tenderness toward those who are hurting and helpless.  It touches me so because I'm certain that those are shoes he has walked in himself.

Here in our rather affluent society, we have little exposure to people in those conditions. But this deep compassion he has manifests itself, I think, even in the great afinity he has toward babies.  Matthew just loves babies and has since he stopped being one himself, I think.  I mean, how many little boys do you know who would stop cold during a game of chase on the playground just because he sees a mommy walk in carrying an infant seat? "Look, Mom, there's a baby in there!!! Awww!!"

The other day he asked to hold his youngest brother, and I agreed. He climbed in the chair, got himself all set up with the Boppy pillow and held out his arms. I placed Jacob in front of him and turned to fold a few crib linens. As I worked, I was listening to him fuss over his brother with lots of "Aww's!" and high pitched commentary. A lump built up in my throat after I heard him say, "Jacob, no matter what we will always be your family and I will love you."

I know it's ironic to say such a thing, after a very long-winded post, but --- I am speechless grateful for the opportunity to be Matthew's mommy.  Words can't describe it.  He truly is a "gift of God."  I am so thankful for the opportunity to watch him grow, learn, live, and love.