07/26/20 2005 MISSION TRIP TO CENTRAL ASIA #2 — Enough of China, back to Central Asia (countries must remain unidentified). One of the main things my missionary hosts my visit did was to visit orphanages and minister to the children there. I confess, I don’t know exactly what orphanages are like here in the USA. But these were eye-opening, to say the least.

Apparently orphaned children in those countries were divided into three classes. The first group was those who were physically and mentally healthy and ready and highly likely to be adopted—the “cream of the crop.” The third group was for children with such physical, mental, emotional, and social problems so profound that they were judged basically permanently unfit for adoption. The middle group levels consisted of kids with some problems which could hopefully be resolved until they were promoted to group one.

In orphanage after orphanage, we were ushered into a room where the group one or two kids were seated. We were warned not to touch them at all; they said if they became too accustomed to being touched they would eventually be unhappy and unmanageable, since they were short-staffed. Then the staff left. As we played guitars and sang songs with them, the children would gather around us, closer and closer, until they were sitting in our laps or right under our armpits or their arms around our necks (and our arms around them). Eventually the staff would come, fuss at us and it was suddenly time to leave.

I kept asking my friends where the third group was; we had never laid our eyes on even one of them. They told me they were kept upstairs on the second floor, but we were not allowed up there. I wanted them to have “plausible deniability,” so I told them I was going to be on my own for awhile; just don’t get in the van and leave without me. I waited until no one was looking and dashed up the stairs. I was nearly overcome with what I saw.

The large room was one gigantic crib, a two-foot-high fence about a foot off the floor, all around the room. All the children were sitting or lying inside, many curled up in fetal positions. Some were pulling out their hair; others were repeatedly banging their heads on the bars of the fence; nearly all of them were moaning and groaning in agony. Not knowing what else to do, I climbed over the rail and gathered up as many of them as I could all around me. I stroked their hair and faces and rubbed their backs. I sang softly to them (in English, of course). The majority stopped pulling and banging and moaning and began to smile at me and try to hum along. After all these years, just typing this brings me to tears!

Eventually a horrified staff member found me and reported me to her supervisor. We were told to leave immediately; and they made it clear that I was never to be allowed to visit there again (oh well, I was leaving the country in 2-3 days anyway). I saw, up close and personal, what a powerful impact we can have on people if we just spread the genuine love and affection of Christ among them. Thanks for allowing me to revisit those memories!

P.S. Wow, I almost forgot! My missionary hosts adopted two of those group three kids shortly thereafter. They are back in the USA now and those “unadoptable” kids have graduated from high school! The sister is in college; her brother enlisted in the military. Unadoptable, indeed! Praise the Lord! (I know, I know—make these posts shorter!)