The Transition

When I first came to Haiti in 2004 the orphanage was full of adorable little kids. At that time the majority of the kids were between the ages of 4 and 9. It was seriously the perfect age group for an orphanage, the kids were SO EXCITED about every activity, everything I did was amazing, every activity was fun, they just wanted to spend time with me, sit with me, hold my hand and gaze up at me like I was a super hero. I would walk through the door and hear cheers, literally CHEERS from all over. It was a glorious time to be alive!

Slowly those 9 year olds became pre-teens, I wasn't quite as awesome anymore but I could still talk them into playing games and singing songs. A few more years passed by and all those adorable children became pimply faced teenagers with raging hormones and wild mood swings. There were no cheers when I walked in during those lovely years, it was more like groans and dirty looks. I believed deep down they still loved me - but it didn't always feel that way.

A few more years fly by and the hormones stop raging, the mood swings become much less wild and we become friendly again. There are no cheers, but there are no more dirty looks either. I can't lie, there are still groans, on occasion, it just depends on the time of day and why I'm showing up in the first place.

Every parent knows there will come a day when your baby girl becomes a woman; she doesn't like the clothes you pick out anymore (even when they are cute), she wants to wear extensions in her hair - yarn will no longer cut it, she wants the longest extensions on the market - she starts wearing makeup and walking around in high heels, her face slims out and all of a sudden you are looking into the face of a woman, plucked eyebrows, mascara and all.

Then you turn around and realize your little boy somehow became a man, his voice drops 4 octaves, an Adam's apple appears, muscles start busting out of shirt sleeves and finally facial hair starts sticking out of his chin and covering his upper lip.

The hardest part of this whole process of growing up is the independence. It's inevitable, it's healthy, it's natural, but it still stinks. You go from being the center of their universe to being the annoying parent checking in to make sure no one is holding hands under the table. Friends become the most important people in their lives, whispers of cute boys, and new outfits flood their conversations. All of a sudden you're on the outside looking in.

As the day approaches for them to move out, yes you heard that correctly, MOVE OUT, out on their own, out into the big scary world. Your mind races, you can't sleep. Will they be ok? Did I raise them right? Did I teach them enough? Did I seize every opportunity to teach them right from wrong. How strong is their relationship with the Lord? Will they stay faithful? You worry yourself weary. 

And then the day comes - your babies are now men and women. They are strong, they are intelligent, they are wise, they are beautiful, they are handsome, they are ready. I trust them, I love them, and I believe in them. They are going to do GREAT things. They are going to change the world.

They've already changed mine.