“Greater love has no one than this, than he lay down his life for his friends.” John 15:13
The life of an orphan is hard. The life of an orphan with special needs is impossible. Most will never be adopted, never leave an institution, never be welcomed by society, never have a job, never have another soul on the earth to love them. And certainly never have anything to call their own.
I handed Cameron a blue matchbox car in the Civil Affairs office. He has never let it go since. He loves this car. I spent $1 on it at Ocean State Job Lot the day before I left for China. He seemed to experience such relief when I dressed him in a pair of shorts with pockets and showed him how he could put the car in his pocket to keep it on his person. He holds it tight in one hand, and holds my hand tight in his other hand.
You cannot imagine my horror when one of the government officers at one of our appointments thought it was funny to make Cameron cry by snatching his car from his hand over and over again. At first I was stunned. Cameron has a silent cry, which is the exact opposite of Madelyn. That child cries and screams so loudly that it literally makes your eardrums vibrate. People comment on it in public all the time. At first they laugh when they hear it until it starts to hurt their ears too. Then I start to get dirty looks like somehow I can make her cry softer. They often say “how can such a big sound come out of such a little person!” That is our Madelyn.
But Cameron cries silently. I have seen it before in other orphans. I have no doubt that it is due to the months at the orphanage before he went to Starfish Foster Home. When you spend that long not having any needs met whatsoever, you lose the ability to continue to fight and ask for what you need. He has a look on his face like he is crying, but no sound comes out and no tears are shed. When he bumps his head on the desk in the hotel room, I have to be careful to listen to when I hear a bump because I will not hear a cry.
After torturing my son by grabbing his car several times, mama bear took over. Despite the fact that I felt vulnerable with these officers, I finally grabbed it from their hand and shouted “No!” I gave him his car back and he snuggled into me. Cameron doesn’t fully understand who I am, I know that. But he has figured out that this person taking care of him is his advocate and he looks to me when something is happening to him that he finds distressing. Yes, he calls me "mama" but he has never seen a family, so how can he really understand what a "mama" actually is.
I have come to love this little blue matchbox car since it travels everywhere that Cameron does. He struggled so much when I wouldn’t let him hold it in the bathtub because I didn’t want it to get wet and rust. I made a place for it on the tub where he could see it during the entire bath. I wasn’t sure what would happen when we visited Starfish Foster Home. When he saw his Starfish siblings, he grasped onto that car so tight and would whine whenever anyone walked near him.
Today we visited Xi’an Child Welfare Institute where Cameron spent his first 2 months after he was abandoned at a hospital. I wanted to see it for myself. It is one of the largest orphanages in China and is responsible for over 800 children, half of which are in foster care placements. After touring the orphanage with the assistant to the director, I met the man who named him Lelai. I had a small gift for him and wanted him to write a message to Cameron in a book that I brought. I was supposed to meet the director after that and have him sign Cameron’s book. At this point, Cameron was having a meltdown. I can’t exactly describe what 110 degrees with a toddler who doesn’t even speak Chinese let alone English and only understands Chinese feels like. But, I can assure you, it feels even hotter.
So, I asked my guide and the assistant to be my proxy so I could stand in the shade with my son and help him through his tantrum and give him some water and a snack. During that time, an old woman caregiver walked by with about 6 or 7 babies and toddlers in a wagon. One of the baby boys was crying and she stopped in the shade to pick him up. I was so taken by his eyes that it took me a minute to realize that the baby had no ears. After he stopped crying and she put him back in the wagon, Cameron walked over to that 3 or 4 month old baby and laid his little blue matchbox car on his belly. And when the baby couldn’t pick it up, Cameron picked it up and placed the car in the baby’s hands.
Time slowed down. I couldn’t even hear the sounds from the street anymore. I just stared at my son and watched him make the biggest sacrifice of his life. Only his mama (and God) know how much that car meant to him. I thought he might cry when she started to walk away with the children and he watched his car leave with them but he didn’t. Then the caregiver noticed that the baby was still holding the car and she took it out of his hands and handed it back to Cameron. He deliberately walked back over to them and then handed the car to one of the toddlers who was helping to push the wagon and patted her arm while he did it. She smiled at him and walked away and then turned back around and blew him a kiss.
For most of us, though, demonstrating laying down our life for someone means dying to self. It means looking our selfish selves in the mirror and doing something we don’t want to do for someone else. Like getting up extra early to make your spouse coffee before work or not going out to dinner with your friends because your daughter’s softball game was rescheduled from rain on the same night as your “girls’ night out.” It means sacrificing what you love to do to take care of someone else’s needs. For Cameron, it meant giving away the only treasure he has ever known - his little blue matchbox car.
