The Kids

**UPDATE**
Thank you so much for all of the comments and emails and links! I am humbled at the response to this post. After 2 days, I'd like to write an update. It is my understanding that most of the kids I wrote about specifically here either are matched with families but just don't know it yet, or have families in the process who hope to be matched. My intention in writing this was to try to capture my experience, and to possibly encourage a few people considering adoption to take the leap! Each of these very real kids represent many of their friends who ARE still waiting to be chosen. There are many single kids 8 and older, and many groups of 2-4 siblings that wait. Some are already at Layla House. Adoption Advocates International also has many waiting in other orphanages in Addis until a spot opens up at Layla. For each child that goes home with their family, another can come to this amazing place to await their turn.
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People ask about my trip every day. I still stand there silently trying to come up with something that doesn't sound dumb. Yet, I can't seem to say anything profound either. There is too much. To open it all up would take hours, and most people just want a minute synopsis.

The faces of the kids I got to know keep flashing through my mind. Sometimes I see them in my mind and I feel grateful to see them again - like a welcome breeze on a blistering day. Other times, my eyes unintentionally tear up, and my heart physically hurts.

So I'm thinking it's time to write about these amazing Ethiopian children. So strong, yet tender and vulnerable. In many ways they are kids like you would find anywhere else. In other ways, they are survivors beyond what we can imagine. They have lost their families. I imagine some nursing dying parents until the end, while others are shuffled off to relatives without getting to say good-bye. Some are here at Layla with siblings. Some have siblings in other orphanages or with relatives, and some don't know where the little ones are. Some have siblings with HIV and they worry about them getting sick and dying. They have a quiet strength, and a faith with depth that most of us will never know.

Layla House is more a transition center than orphanage. The intention is that all children will go to an adoptive family, so Layla is structured to prepare them for life in a family in America. They go to school everyday, learn English, and try American food for dinner.


The children who have been chosen by an adoptive family carry their photo album around with pride and hope in their eyes. They finger the pictures of their new families, schools, houses, and pets longingly. I saw them kiss the faces of their new family periodically throughout the day. They walk around the compound with a lighter step and talk to everyone they can about their new state. They show newcomers their state and town on the big map in the cafeteria, and their eyes light up if you know someone from their new land. Many kids are going to Washington, so we immediately had so much in common. I told them about the beauty, the mountains, ocean, lakes, and forests of the state they will soon know. (I also tried to explain how we barbecue, but I think I was officially deemed nuts on that one.)

The children who are waiting have a wistful longing in their eyes that is much different. When others are talking about going home "soon" (I realized that "soon" is what everyone says once they have a family - although it may be many more months.), the kids who are waiting break eye contact and look down, wondering when it will be their turn to announce their state, the names of their siblings and their dog.

Some of the older ones are tearing at my heart every day. There is a beautiful, quiet girl about 12, who leads prayer at lunch. She has one of the kindest faces I have seen, and she looks after the younger kids and her brother. She still waits. The older boys make life interesting and fun for the other kids. They wait with less anticipation than the younger kids. They understand better the chances of an American choosing an older boy. They have celebrated at the going away parties of MANY younger kids. Yet they still pray for their turn.

There is a sibling group of four that affected many of us. The oldest, a 14 year-old, is famous at Layla for her exquisite braiding. She tells people how she will keep the younger ones in line and cook for her new family. I sat with one of the younger brothers for lunch on our first day and was so curious to know more about this sweet, kind boy. Every day after that he would smile at me from across the room, and I would wish I had more than a week here to get to know all of these kids. The second oldest girl of this group, showed me her photo album. It was filled with pictures of her friends from the last (almost) 2 years. She had a picture of her beautiful grandmother too. The pictures that are missing are the ones of her new family. She can point to each friend and tell you what state they went to. She has a large group picture, and after naming each of the states the kids had gone to, she quietly told me that only she and her sister are still at Layla. I asked her if she liked it here, if she was happy. She said "Oh yes. Here I have everything. I have shoes, pants, and food. I did not have those things before." But she didn't say what I already knew. That her heart's desire, now that she has clothing and food, is to grow up in a family with her siblings.

One 7 year-old boy reminded me so much of my 7 year-old G.J. They could be twins separated by continents! He has the honest, soft face of an Ethiopian boy. So many American kids are hardened even by this young age, by events out of their control mixed with the entitlement of growing up in American culture. But Ethiopian kids are different. He is funny and friendly, and has the sweet hopefulness of youth. Some of us took his class horseback riding and it was as much of a thrill to me to cheer them on and take pictures as they rode for the first time. I wish his Ethiopian parents, and his future American parents could have been there in my place. He avoided my eyes as the other kids talked about their new families, and so I knew, without asking, that he waits. Longing to share all of these firsts with people that think the sun rises and sets in his eyes.

Another boy, a 6 year-old, also captured my heart. He has a curious, bright, mischievous face. Very similar to my M.C. He has spirit and spunk, and is trying to find his place at Layla with so many older kids. I watched him yell in outrage as an older kid took the soccer ball he had carried to the field to impress me with his kick. It was exactly how my son would have responded. In a world that is horribly unfair, some rules apply in all cultures. I spent some time with this kid, and fell in love with his intensity to grapple with life. On the last day, we said our good-byes and as I was leaving, I heard a whisper in my heart: "Turn around". I did, and there he stood at the other end of the cafeteria staring at me, willing me to turn around with his longing to be noticed. I smiled through tears and walked quickly toward him with my arms held out and called his name. He ran into my embrace and I held him for his birth mother and his adoptive mother. I whispered that I would pray for his family. It doesn't feel like enough for his little heart, but I trust that God has a family picked out for him. I pray that his heart stays strong and hopeful until they come.

One day I saw a group of boys huddled in a circle. Being used to boys in my life and work, I immediately wandered over, my mind filling with the mischief I expected to see within their circle. I was humbled beyond words when I peeked into their tight circle and saw them celebrating with one of their friends as he held his new family photo album. They were looking through each of the pictures with him, exclaiming in excitement as he turned each page.

So many kids whose faces call to me. I imagine them whispering to me: "Find my family." "When will they come for me?" "When will I feel my mom stroke my face at night?" "When will I feel my dad's strong arms when I am afraid?" Kids of all ages wait. They are so much like my own kids, yet they are still Ethiopian. Kind, gentle, physically affectionate, and funny! They lost everything before they came to Layla. At Layla they are given the possibility of a second chance at life and love. They worry about pleasing their new parents, and about being able to keep their faith. They pray for the family they don't yet know. Are they praying for you? Once you look into their eyes, you can never forget their longing for parents.

If you have ever considered adoption, I promise you, there is a child who waits and prays to be found.