A Glimpse into the Heart of a 6 year old boy whose world has been turned upside down

It seems that there are two types of grievers: those who lash out and those who withdraw. (I'm not lumping EVERYONE in either of those two categories, but that seems to me to be the prevailing trend).

Tinsaye is a withdrawer -- at least for now. He spent the majority of this morning in his room, under his covers, or just lying on the floor. When he does this (which has been several times in the last week) I vacillate over how much to assert myself into this part of his world: whether to give him space to just be by himself and sort through his thoughts or to try to engage him constantly or find a balance between the two.

Well, finally, at 11am, I went into his room and sat down on the floor beside him and said matter-of-factly: "You are sad, huh?" More of a statement than a question.

He didn't say anything at first, but then, after a few minutes of quiet he said: "I cannot tell you. You are not my family." Ouch.

He said: "Caitie, Abby, Drew, and Sami -- they are in this family a long time. Me? I am short time. This is not my house. I am not in this family." Double ouch.

I reassured him, of course, that he *is* in this family. That God chose him and we chose him to be in this family. This *is* his house and we love him.

Then, he proceeded to tell me that I am the same as Sister Lutgarda (the Nun in charge at the orphanage). That I am "only with rules." Ouch again. (This didn't surprise me though -- I've suspected that he was equating me more with the Nuns, rather than a loving caregiver. His Mom has been gone since he was 2, so he hasn't really had a "Mom" figure in his life. He relates better to Mike, but he's had a really great relationship with his Dad, so that makes sense.)

Of course, I explained to him that we have to have rules to keep everyone safe and that the rules are the same for everyone. I also explained that Dad and Mom want to help him to grow up well and this is why we have rules. I assured him that most children don't like rules, but that's just life. There are always rules because rules help us to live right. I told him about some of the rules that Mom and Dad have to live by -- not hitting when we are angry, not buying everything we want, etc. Really, at this point, I didn't really know what to say, so I was just talking -- although I was trying to keep my words short and simple, so it didn't sound as verbose as this probably does here.

The strange thing is that while the words he said were harsh, I got a sense that the Lord had put a protective salve over my heart in order to hear them. My heart hurt for HIM ... not for me.

I imagined what it must feel like to be a 6 year old boy in a family of strangers. I remember what it felt like to an exchange student to Germany and live in a strange family for a summer. I remember the intense lonliness at times and the feeling of alienation and rigid unfamiliarity. And I was 17, not 6. So because I felt like I "got it" on some level, I was able to understand what he was "really" telling me.

Eventually, he started just sobbing. I pulled him onto my lap and wrapped my arms around him. I cried with him. I told him: "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that you couldn't stay in Ethiopia. I'm just so sorry." After a minute or two, I felt him physically relax, take some deep breaths, and lean into me. We sat there together on his floor, with his head resting over my heart, and he let me rock him for about 30 minutes.

For the rest of the day, he has been a different child toward me.

I know this is just the beginning of some really hard heart stuff. But although it was difficult, I think it was good.

May God continue to pour out his grace and mercy on these children ...