Do you remember the magical free box at yard sales growing up? A treasure trove of capless pens, and half used bottles of perfume. Occasionally you might find something good in there. At one yard sale, my mom found a free 86 Oldsmobile! A real car, that ran better than the 73 Oldsmobile that I learned to drive in. My mom has always had the knack to find things like this. Most people assume a car with a free sign on it probably means they will be adopting more problems than the thing is worth. My mom’s motto is, “It can’t hurt to ask.” Sometimes this meant weird things showed up around the house, other times free cars.
In Taiwan, Kentucky Fried Chicken was the only American restaurant in town for many years. Once, my parents were out for lunch and KFC was giving away Taiwanese version of Ramen with every meal purchase. A filthy boy, who looked to be around 12 or 13, stood at their table, at an uncomfortable proximity to them. He had a few coins in a bag and was munching some dry ramen. My mom was alarmed because Chinese people were usually so careful to keep clean. She looked around to see who he might be with. Since she is a redhead, it was common to be stared at in Taiwan, but she thought it was strange that this curious boy didn’t appear to be with anyone. Soon, he left, and she was left to just wonder about him.
She saw the same boy a few weeks later, and decided to call Ted Skiles, the director of The Home of God’s Love, the orphanage we were affiliated with in Taiwan. While she was on a payphone with Ted, the owner of KFC happened to walk by. Mom waved him over and handed him the receiver. Ted explained to the owner the situation, and the owner confirmed that the boy was homeless and that business owners up and down the street provided him with scraps when they could be spared, but no one knew where he lived.
On behalf of the orphanage, the police authorized a search for him, and he was found sleeping on the streets under a piece of plastic. He couldn’t tell them his parents names; he only remembered his grandfather bought him a bus ticket and sent him as far away as possible, maybe from the other side of the island. No one knew how long he had been on the streets.
I remember when he was first brought to the orphanage, he didn’t seem to understand the concept of home. He ran away almost immediately, just because he thought it was time to get back to his piece of cardboard. When snacks were passed around, he took an extra if one of the other kids didn’t want theirs. He didn’t know there was going to be plenty to eat now.
At the Hospital in Lotung, another little boy was abandoned by his parents. He was given too much oxygen at birth and was born blind. According to Buddhist teaching this was karma, and meant the gods were punishing him and his parents. Chinese families often believe this brings enormous shame to the family. This was the same story as many of the children born with special needs who came to the Home of God’s Love. My mother became acquainted with him through a friend who was a relative of the head of the hospital. She asked hospital staff if she could pick him up and bring him to church. After several times, Ted decided to have him brought to the home. ‘Aunt Bev’ taught me to care for the babies, so I developed a special connection to him.
The boys’ stories wound together at the home, and they were adopted by the same family in the U.S. Later, the family adopted a third boy, also blind, from the home. The parents of the adoptive family both work in occupational therapy, the mother worked as a vision rehabilitation therapist and had excellent training to care for them. They have thrived, in the loving environment provided for them. It warmed my heart to catch up with them recently and hear of the good men, contributing to society they have become. Funny, how the blind can sometimes help us to see a little better.
We often hear stories like this and let it end with inspirational summary about how God puts people in the right place at the right time to hear the gospel. I have even shared a number of these stories, like the one about our translator, Zhenya.
What if my mom had not been at the restaurant at the right moment, or if the owner of the restaurant hadn’t come by when he did? These boys’ lives would be very different. But there is another element to the rescue of these boys:
People have to be open and looking for a way to help. My parents had to be more interested in an annoying, filthy boy than their peaceful lunch. They had to consciously be aware that he seemed alone. The police had to be concerned enough for a homeless boy to make a search for him. A family in the U.S. had to have more concern for others’ physical problems than their own concerns. They opened their home one, two, three times. Yes, God will give us the opportunities, but we must actively have our own hands out.
Their adoptive mother has a blog, and has published several books.