Learning to love like Henry

Our dear boy Henry has just about the biggest heart.  Whereas the Grinch’s heart is two times too small, I’d argue that Henry’s heart is about four times as big as mine.  He loves to hug and snuggle his little sister and he can’t seem to say goodbye to a friend without hugging their neck.  Sorry, 4 year old friend, if you aren’t a fan of hugs.  Henry is to hugging as Buddy the Elf is to whispering.  

So it is no surprise that Henry talks about his youngest sibling constantly.  You know, the child that hasn’t even been referred to us yet?  Yeah.  That one.  He prays for his little brother every night.  He has even named him.  We’ve told him that his little brother may have another name when he comes to live in our house, but that we can guarantee his last name will be Phillips.  To which Henry chirps, “Hey, that’s just like me!”  

And what has Henry named his little brother?  Charlie.  (He also insists that he will one day have a little sister named Rosie.  If you aren’t aware, both Charlie and Rosie are train friends of Thomas.  Oh, and before Gracie, he called the sibling he was waiting for James.)  And even though the child may be too old to change his name (or perhaps we will just shift his Chinese name to his middle name), we actually like the name Charlie.  And, for those of you who don’t know, my husband happens to go by his middle name.  What is Sloan’s first name?  Charles.  So it seems fitting that our son would be named for his Daddy.  

So we pray for Charlie.  These are the prayers of Henry:  that he will have sweet dreams, that his friends will share their toys with him, that he will like to play Thomas trains, and that when we go to China to pick him up he can go play at Jonathan and Isabel’s house (his cousins) and that upon our immediate return from China we will all go to Legoland.  These are our prayers for Charlie:  that he will be loved, that his caregivers will sing to him of God’s love, that he will receive all the medical attention he needs, that he will supernaturally see our family in his dreams so that we will not be strangers upon our first meeting, that God would prepare Gracie’s heart to be an older sister, prepare our hearts to parent a child with special needs, and for us to have patience as we wait for him.  We also pray that whoever put this idea about going to Legoland in Henry’s mind would shut the heck up.  For reals.

The other night, as a family, we watched a short video about Bethany and their special needs program in China.  

Bethany China from Bethany Christian Services on Vimeo.

At each and every picture with a boy, Henry said, “Is that Charlie?”  “No.”  “But is that a wittle boy with no mommy or daddy?”  “Yes.”  “Then we need to pray for them.  And maybe they can come to Legoland with us?”  

You might think it is wrong to expose Henry to the truth of orphans at such a young age.  It does make him sad.  And it might make you uncomfortable when Henry talks ad nasueam about how he is going to share his trains with his little brother, Charlie and that they will get bunk beds and tell stories at night and how it seems to him that this will be happening next week.  

But guess what?  It is right and good to be sad about sad things.  It is right and good to cry for those whom Jesus sheds many tears.  And we show the video, and pray with Henry for those orphaned, and talk about how some kids don’t have Mommy and Daddies alongside the bigger truths:  God is a Father to these children and loves them to the moon and back.  We, as God’s people, can be the ones to bring them into our families and love them and laugh with them and, yes, even take them to Legoland.  We can look to the day where there will be no more orphans, no more poverty, no more tears. And we can do it eagerly, expectantly, and with great assurance:  like Henry awaits his little brother.