I Miss Jim

I don't know if this is a good topic for a blog or not, perhaps I am simply writing for therapy and will never post it, but I guess if you are reading it I went ahead and clicked "Publish" so here goes.  Today, I miss Jim.  Jim is a little boy that I met while at Maria's Big House of Hope last month.  He is three years old, just over three feet tall, and probably weighs just under thirty pounds.  He has big brown eyes, short brown hair, and a rueful smile.  Rueful that is until you get him to expose just a glimpse of his deeper, hidden side, a side that is revealed when he cracks a smile that shines from ear to ear accompanied by the sweetest giggle that would make even an icy heart melt.  Jim likes toy cars, candy, and the display screen of a digital camera.  Jim has a bike that the staff of Maria's taught him to ride in the first floor hallways.  Jim loves puzzles and responds to the needs of his roommate, Jessica, without her saying a word.  Jim lives at Maria's Big House of Hope because he doesn't have a family, because he hasn't been matched to an adoptive family, and perhaps because his name isn't even in the waiting-to-be-matched paperwork.  Jim is a miracle created for a place called home. And today, I miss Jim.

This morning I spent several hours in the emergency room because I had finally decided to ask for medical help for a severe pain I've had in my lower back all week.  Despite the stabbing feeling I've experienced near my right kidney all week, I had merely gone about my daily routines hoping that this somewhat knee-buckling pain would just go away on its own.  It didn't, and when it woke me up this morning at 4:30 a.m., I suddenly realized I probably needed medical intervention so thus my trip to the ER.  Upon my return I had a friend whom I've been in contact with daily this week tell me, "I didn't even know you were having problems with your back!"  No she didn't, and it wasn't because she wasn't paying attention. She didn't know because I just don't share such things.  Not because I don't want people to know, but just because I don't.  That's part of who I am.  It the suck-it-up and deal with it mentality that I impose upon myself when something just ain't right.  It's not my style to complain and I am happy with that - it is one of those still waters run deep things that I'm pretty sure makes me me. And it is why today I miss Jim.

In case you haven't figured it out, Jim is the little boy that Dan and I would really like to bring home and into our family.  There are a lot of obstacles to overcome and hoops to jump through, and there are no guarantees that we will even be able to track down Jim's paperwork, but still Jim is our hearts' desire.  We pray that Jim is the miracle created for this place, for this home, for this family .  And today I miss Jim.

One night while we were working on our adoption application Dan asked me, "Why Jim?  What drew you to him?"  I had a hard time answering, but tried to explain what the Lord had laid upon my heart.  Somehow I just knew that Jim would fit in here.  I watched him play and couldn't help thinking he would be a perfect fit with our girls.  He is so smart, so quick, so interested in how things fit together.  But ultimately it was his demeanor that simply sucked me in.  He is quiet and cautious, not leery but perhaps a bit skeptical.  The epitome of quiet waters running deep.  When I watched Jim play I couldn't help but want to pick him up out of Maria's and put him back down in the middle of a pile of children all laughing and giggling and jumping on Dad.  To take him outside, give him a soccer ball and watch him run in an open field.  Just watching Jim you can't help but imagine him somewhere else - in a group of children or sitting at the dinner table alive and animated and full of life.  It is like his spirit is just waiting for the opportunity to burst out of his skin and fly free among the beauty of the place for which he was created.  Still waters run deep and there is something deep within Jim, just below the surface that is waiting to appear.

None of that is to say that he is unhappy at Maria's or that he doesn't know laughter and joy in his current situation, he certainly does, but no matter how much love the nurses and nannies and other staff at Maria's lavish upon him he is still an orphan and he is still a child without a place to truly call home.  Would you know that by the look on Jim's face?  I have to say I did.  That introspective demeanor communicated one important thing to me - I am a child well-cared for and loved, but I know there is something more out there, something that I just don't have yet.  Something I was created for.  Something that I am missing.

So, today, as I was cleaning my carpet of all things my mind went wandering to Jim.  As I thought about my own thoughts running deep and quiet, my mind jumped to Jim who spends his days in much the same way.  To Jim who is lucky to be living in the comforting arms of Maria's Big House of Hope, but also to Jim who I cannot reach out and hug today.  To Jim who truly is a miracle, created by a loving Heavenly Father. To Jim who may be without family, but certainly is not forgotten.  To Jim, the child we are willing to search for.  And today, I miss Jim.