A few weeks ago, she wrote me a message. Checking in, on her family, on her siblings. And do you know what she asked about her newest brother and sister?
"How are they? Are they saved yet????"
Her exact words. Are they saved yet. Not are they safe, or are they home, but are they saved yet. Wow, her words I immediately snatched up and tucked away in my heart to ponder.
You see, my Liza knows much more than I. Like them, she has lost a parent to death at a young age. Like them, she has been abandoned by her other parent at a young age. I grieve over their losses and pain, Liza knows it. And Liza chose the word: saved.
As a white, American adoptive mother, I would be shy of using that word. Who am I, many will ask, to "save" a child from their culture, from Africa, from their race. Selfish, naive, deluded? Who am I, to inflict on these children another loss, when I could fund their meals and electricity until 18. Sometimes, I might be tempted to listen. To doubt my own motives . . .
But then I hear Liza's perspective. The "many" have not experienced my children's circumstances. She has. So I'll hold on to this gift of wisdom from my oldest daughter, as I hold on to this gift of purpose from my God, who planted these three in my heart as He has planted two before in my womb.
And I'll answer her, "Yes, Liza. God has saved them, and we'll all be home together. Soon"
Then Job replied:
"How you have helped the powerless!
How you have saved the arm that is feeble!
What advice you have offered to one without wisdom!
And what great insight you have displayed!"