Fighting for Love

It’s not fair.

It’s not fair that 30 or 40 toddlers need to share half a dozen aunties. They should each have two parents. That’s how God created it. This ratio is all out of whack.

I don’t know what to do at the children’s home. The first lucky child gets to be in my arms and then at least two more cling to me sobbing because they want to be held too. I feel like it does more harm than good. This was not what I expected.

In childcare at church, sometimes we would run into the problem of multiple kids wanting to sit in our laps while we read a book or listened to a story. The thing was, they were okay with sharing—one kid on one knee, one on the other, and one sitting on either side with our arms around them. We could accommodate. If it didn’t work, we would gently push them off and tell them to sit on the floor and after fussing a little they would oblige. But with these kids, they want it all and they’re not obliged to share or wait. If they’re not the closest one to me, it’s not close enough. They don’t understand what it means to wait. They’re not happy being next to me. It’s not enough.

At home when we play with Emma, Aaron’s goddaughter, there are at least two and often more of us vying for her attention. We all want her to love us best. We fight over her.

In the last year-and-a-half that has caused a few arguments and hard feelings between Aaron and me. I want him to share his precious goddaughter of his, but he loves her so much sometimes he gets excited and forgets. What a problem, right?

There is a Friends episode that illustrates this nicely. Before I explain the episode, here is a bit of background information: Carol and Ross were married. She left him for another woman, but right after that found out she was pregnant. It turned into a weird triangle thing between Carol, Ross, and Susan (Carol’s new partner), where Ross and Susan would continually fight over who was going to be a better and more legitimate parent.

In this episode, through a series of events, Ross, Susan, and Phoebe (a friend) get locked in a closet in the hospital while Carol is in labor. Susan and Ross start yelling at each other and get into a heated argument about whose baby it really is. Meanwhile, Phoebe is sitting on a bucket listening to the whole thing with a huge grin on her face.

“This is so great!” she says excitedly. Immediately Ross and Susan stop talking.

“Excuse me?” says Ross.

Realizing they are looking for an explanation, she says, “Well, when I was growing up, my dad ran out on my sister and me, and my mom killed herself, and my grandma tried looking after us, but we barely had enough pieces of parents to make one whole parent. And here this baby is, not even born yet, and it’s go three parents who are arguing over who gets to love it the most! It’s the luckiest kid in the world.”

She nailed it.

These kids are not the luckiest kids in the world. They are hungry for personal attention and individual love. It’s no wonder they want to be the only one in my lap—they’re never the only one anywhere. The only thing they don’t have to share is their name, and with over 150 kids here, that seems like it will be impossible for me to learn them all.

These kids shouldn’t have to fight for love. No child should ever have to fight to be loved.

I used to wonder how anyone knew how to set limits or boundaries on the good they did. Were they really showing compassion if they didn’t try to help everybody? Even if I opened a children’s home like this, how could I stop with one if there are more orphans out there?

“Do for one as you would do for everyone.” One of many nuggets of wisdom Dawn has shared with me in the past few years. Since I have been here, I have been feeling more and more like that is what God is calling me to do. I disliked that saying when I first heard it because then what happens to everyone? How can anyone afford to think so small scale? But now, after beginning to experience a larger-scale picture, I absolutely think that if everyone did for one what we would do for everyone, there wouldn’t be anything overwhelming about it. People look at the big picture, at the whole of the problem, and they sink. They can’t handle it, so they don’t handle anything. Some are blessed with the ability to handle a medium picture like Noah’s Ark or Compassion International. And some are called to focus on one small piece, a select few people, while God orchestrates all these small pieces into a mosaic that really makes a difference.

One resolution I have made in the last few days: I want to be the best mother and sponsor in the world. Someday, I want to get married and adopt some children and love them with all the love I have for all the children who are suffering. I want my children to know love to the fullest and never have to fight for it. I want to give them a chance at life and love that they wouldn’t have otherwise. And I am beginning to believe the scale on which I will do that is perhaps much smaller than I originally thought.