Life is Experience

This evening I took the kids outside.
It was already dark and the moon shone full and bright in the sky above us.
We played, barefoot, in the moist grass in the pale moon light.
Child laughter filled the shadows around us.

We weren't doing anything special.
I found these little bouncy balls at the dollar place.
They light up when they bounce.
We were outside playing fetch with those balls.
I would toss them, bounce them, make them light up
the children would run through the grass, laughing, chasing the flashing, bouncing light
then race to return their ball for me to toss again.

Nothing special. Not really.

Then we came in and cuddled up on the sofa to watch a movie together.
Coraline.
One of Magda's favorite movies.
The three of us piled on that couch together, chattering away about the movie as it played.

Nothing special.

Then I got Mordecai ready for bed.
I tickled and "gobbled" on him to make him laugh while we got his pajamies on.
I laid him down, gave him hugs and kisses, and gave him his B (his Linus blanket.)

Magda is finishing her movie just now.
But I was thinking....
This afternoon, we haven't done anything really special.
Not really.

But I've heard other parents who have adopted from the same area where The Child is talk about how little Experience their children had while in the orphanage.
It is quite possible that The Child has never seen the moon.
He's probably never been outside the orphanage building at night.
It's possible he's never laughed in the moonlight.
In fact, it's quite likely that he's never been outside the orphanage grounds at all.
We've found out that he lives in a more prosperous area of the Country.
The picture we've seen on Google are amazing.
It's a beautiful area.
And the first time The Child will experience it is when we go to bring him home.
He has never seen the area where he lives.
It breaks my heart.
To think of him, while taken care of, basically trapped in side a building for the last 3 years.

I think of everything that Magda and Mordecai have experienced in their short lives.
Magda's been on a plane. She's swam in the ocean.  She's felt that warm California sand beneath her toes. She and Mordecai have been to Tennessee. they've been to Georgia.  To the Zoo. To the Aquarium.
And even more simple things.
They've rode in the car.
They've been inside a grocery store.
They've been to the movies!
They've been to Church.
They've been exposed to God.
And Love.
And Wonderful
Fun
Gloriously
Different
Experiences.

They've been dressed every morning by the same person.
They've been made breakfast, on request (some day's I play short order cook. What mom hasn't?)
They've had a consistent loving parent to kiss a BooBoo, or dry a tear, to hug away a fear.

They've had snuggles.
They've slept in our bed when it was necessary.
And in our floor beside the bed when it was necessary.

And it brings me to tears.
I wonder, has The Child ever had the comfort of climbing into a bigger bed for snuggles if he was having a bad dream?

The Child.
The beautiful Child.
His life right now is not horrible.
He has adult supervision.
He has meals.
He has a bed.
He has some interaction at some point.

What he doesn't have is A Mom.
or A Dad.

Someone to snuggle him when he's had a bad dream.
A daddy to kiss a scraped knee.
A mommy to scramble another egg to help The Child gain some weight.
He's so skinny. They're all skinny over there. All the children are so thin.
They're given the very basics to allow them to survive.
They are lacking the very basics that are essential to help them thrive.
Consistent Love.
Real meals.
One on One attention.
 Love.
 Guidance.
 Physical closeness.
 Emotional closeness.
And Experience.
They are lacking the Experiences that make up Life.

Laughing in the moonlight.
Running barefoot through dewy grass.
Riding in the car listening to parents talk in the front seats.
Singing hymns in Church.
Pulling toys from the shelves in a store.
Watching a parade.
Playing in the sand.
Counting the stars.

The Child wont have these experiences where he is now.
He wont have them for years... if at all.

His entire life.
Every.
Single.
Day.
Consists of one building.
One play yard.
and a constant shift change of caregivers.

It really, seriously, breaks my heart.
Oh, How his life would change in our family.