It was just any other day - browsing my Facebook page, saw an interesting link that one of my friends shared, and I clicked.
I read an article about adoption, and the writer then started talking about some of the children that were left behind in the orphanage where her two children came from.
I scrolled down, looking at sweet faces of special needs kids that still needed adopting, and then I saw it. The story of a boy named Harvey.
I almost skipped over it, because the pictures were so disturbing, but something made me stop. Something made me scroll up and read a little further.
The boy in the pictures was curled up on his side in a crib, wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants. Skeletal-looking arms, bent and covered with hair, little hands balled into fists. A head full of thick dark hair, neck stretched back at an unnatural angle. Brown eyes, staring at something. Oxygen tube covering part of his face.
I read the story. He has a lot of medical needs that aren't being met. The hair covering his arms is from severe malnutrition and because of the fact that no one ever touches him or holds him. He must be fed through a feeding tube. He is three years old.
My son started to get fussy, and I could tell he was tired. I minimized the page, and with Harvey still in my mind I picked up my healthy, growing toddler and took him to his room, laid him down for a nap.
I came back up and worked on some things around the house, pulled out my computer to finish some projects. Then I opened the window up again. And I stared at those pictures. I looked at the way he was curled up on his side, and it reminded me of the way my son looks when he sleeps. And I started to cry.
Somewhere across the ocean is a boy laying in his crib, living a miserable existence. Bone-thin arms. Never held, hardly touched. No one to take care of him, to love him.
Oh, how I wanted to fly over there right then and get him. Pick him up, hold him, cuddle him, un-ball those little fists. Tell him that he is loved.
I have never met him, probably will never get a chance to meet him. But even as I'm typing this up now I have tears falling from my eyes. His pictures haunt me. I love that little boy that I have never met.
Because of various things that I won't go into here, I'm not in a position to adopt him. The Lord has that door closed for now, and it's one of those things where I have to wait to see if the door will ever be opened. I want to adopt him right now. But I just can't.
Oh, but if I could. . .
I feel like he is mine already, even though I will probably never get to be the one to hold him, or rock him to sleep, or tell him of the love of Jesus.
But in a way, he is still mine. He is mine to pray for. I skimmed over the other children's stories, but I have to believe I stopped on his for a reason. Maybe the Lord let him move my heart so strongly for no other reason than that Harvey needs someone, somewhere, who will pray for him to find a family. Someone who thinks about him, someone who wants him, even if they can't have him here.
I hope and pray with my whole heart that someone will step in and save that boy. That someone will love him and give him a family, even if it can't be me. I pray that someone tells him about Jesus.
And I hope that someday, when I get to heaven, I'll see Harvey there. Eternally happy and thriving and whole. And I'll hold him then, and I'll tell him how he touched me even though we never met, and I'll tell him how I prayed for him. And I won't have to cry anymore, because he'll know more love then than any human could have ever given him, and we'll both know the rest of the story.
If any of you would like to see pictures of Harvey or the other children from the post who need homes, please check out this post from No Greater Joy Mom. And would you join me in praying for Harvey (and any of the other children that touch your hearts), that they will find families? My heart is raw right now, and it helps to know other people will be praying for him too.