This Reminds Me

Julia asked me an interesting question this week as I was applying hydrocortisone cream to her eczema. She told me her friends Nikita and Jeema in Children’s Home #47 also had itches, so, could they come live with us and we could put itchy cream on them, too?

That’s Guanna-to-be-Julia on the far right, joining a patriotic chorus at Children’s Home #47

I took a deep breath and said no, they could not live with us, but we would send them some itchy cream. That lame response did not satisfy and she was obviously struggling to ask me “why?” I quickly flipped on Sponge Bob so that “Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?” would replace her thoughts of where her friends lived.

Now, to keep from becoming a(n even) big(ger) fat(ter) liar, I need to send Buckner a check and hope some of it goes to buy hydrocortisone cream for Children’s Home #47.

But in the meantime – the question rolls around in my head. And my heart.

Why can’t Nikita and Jeema – or other kiddos like them – live with us?

There are so many “reasons.” Omigosh yes. So many. We already have four kids. We’re too old. We have a “girl” house. We haven’t paid off Julia’s adoption yet. We can’t juggle more responsibility. We worry about college for the four we have. Keith’s truck won’t hold us all and the van is one seat away from being filled. We can’t afford more time away from our jobs.

So many good “reasons.” All accurate. But none truthful.

Because the truth is that I’m too selfish. I can’t put Keith in that category – he is the single most generous man I’ve ever known, and the kiddos in Children’s Home #47 really got to him. I think he’d make sacrifices to fold a few more into our family.

This little blonde – Katya – really worked at getting Keith’s attention, including grabbing his leg and forcing him down onto a couch so she could talk to him, sing for him, etc.  Guanna-to-be-Julia pushed her away saying, “That’s my papa.”

But me? I’d rather have a 2002 minivan than drive an unairconditioned clunker. I’d rather eat stuffed salmon from Costco than, say, soup with bits of meat. I’d rather buy paperback books than take the time and trouble to borrow them from the library. I’d rather have my own digital camera, MP3 player, computer and printer/scanner than share with my kids.

So my “rathers” define my actions. And my actions define who I am.

Jesus said, “Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

And the truth is I am is someone who tries to justify myself by sending a check for itchy cream.

I don’t know that this sad fact makes me any “better” or any “worse” than anyone else.

But instead of truth making me feel free – I’m feeling frighteningly tethered to possessions, only some of which I’ll share.

Like itchy cream.