It's not 'all better' yet

I know I have kids to profile.  I know there are other blog posts I need to write, but this one is on my mind.

A little over a year ago, it came to light that one of the orphanages in EE that houses many of the waiting children on Reece's Rainbow was beyond our worst fears, the darkest of the dark places, a hell on earth, where skeletal beings that barely resembled the children they once were and could have still been starved and lay in filth, day in, day out.  A place whose own government likened it to one of the Nazi death camps of WWII.

People jumped.  People screamed.  Committed families were found for children, some of them committing to adopt three, four children at once, because it was CLEAR... that these children's only hope of SURVIVAL was to be adopted.  Yes, it really was that dire.  I am not exaggerating.  There is no doubt in my mind that but for the light shed on this place by the first family to see and speak out about the conditions there, more than one child would have died in this past year.  Probably a child whose face we know.  A child who, instead of being on the 'My Family Found Me' page, might've been on the 'In Loving Memory' page. And he or she would not have been alone, for that place averaged one death per month.  Imagine that.  Twelve faces gone forever.

For a while, we thought, OK, good.  Now people see what a horrible place this is and will do anything to get kids out of there.

And friends, I hate to say it, but we overestimated ourselves.

We were sure that as children became available for adoption, families would quickly step forward for each of them.  At first they did.  Then things got a little scarier.  Sarah and Carissa's files were due to be sent back within weeks of their move to the My Family Found Me page.  And Gabby too.  We thought - we'll scream louder.  And then more children were listed, and some of them found families right away.

Some of them didn't.  August went out with many heavy hearts, knowing that the files of two precious and beautiful children had been sent back to the government, because, in two months, no one had stepped up and said "I will go, that is my son, that is my daughter".  None of those people who, when little Katie Musser came home from the orphanage now commonly known as The Bad Place (I believe we have Jennifer to thank for that?  It's very apt.  Right up there with 'He Who Must Not Be Named'.  But I digress.) had said, when advocates cried "JUMP!", had asked, "How high?" were there to jump.  Two files went back to the government.  We, in our inaction, unconsciously sent the government, the very one we have been trying to convince of the value of special needs children, of how much we love and want them in our families, the message that, 'not these ones, they are not worth it.'  No, we didn't mean to send that message.  But you'd better bet that's the one they received.

Now a whole new crop of orphans from The Bad Place are listed on Reece's Rainbow, and more on other sites which I do not follow as closely.  Lydia Rosencrants has done a wonderful job profiling them on her blog.  She herself is adopting two precious treasures from that very place.

And this new crop of orphans?

They sit.  They wait.  They don't have committed families.  No one is coming for them.  Maybe their files will be sent back too.

And why?  Why, all of the sudden, have the hundreds of people who came forward and said 'We want to help, tell us how to adopt a child from this place', disappeared?

I have my suspicions.

Encouraging news has come from the orphanage lately.  News that the new director is trying to get the kids some proper nutrition, that she cares about them, that outside aid to the orphanage is being accepted, that the children are finally playing outside, that many, many more of them are receiving 'Babas' (A Baba is a grandmother figure who spends time with one or two specific children at the orphanage daily).  This is FABULOUS news, right?

But does it mean The Bad Place is fixed?  Does it mean it's not a problem anymore, that it's okay for these kids to stay there, that they don't need families and it doesn't matter if their files get sent back?

NO!  NO, NO, NO, NO!  PLEASE, PLEASE don't allow yourself to be lulled into that false sense of security, because while improvements ARE being made, this is still a place that is awful beyond awful.  You wouldn't send your dog there.  And these are CHILDREN.

Very, very few visitors have been granted access to the top floor of the orphanage, where the 'worst cases' are kept.  Those who have still see stark reminders of the horribleness of this place.  The bottles, those horrible bottles, with the soupy grey mixture in them... beer bottles with a cut nipple stretched over the top, shoved into children's mouths while they lay flat on their backs.  Children who are so terrified to leave their cribs, to be held or interacted with, because it's a completely foreign concept to them... those cribs are all they've ever known.  Children who are still skeletally thin.  Teenagers the size of babies.  Diapers changed once, maybe twice a day, if they're lucky.  And even with the improvements made here... the added nutrition... the light shed on this dark place... yes, in the past 12 months, there have been deaths.

The bottles

Make no mistake.  The Bad Place is still just as much The Bad Place as it was a year ago.  Improving is not the same as 'all better'.  Yes, we are grateful for every one of these improvements.  They are a step in the right direction.  But when you start out with conditions so poor that no ANIMAL, let alone human being, should  have to endure them, there's a looooong way to go to reach 'all better'.  Our own country, knowing of problems in social care homes for children with disabilities, still took YEARS to reform the system and end those conditions.  While improvements have been made, the urgency to get these children out of this place is VERY MUCH the same as it was 12 months ago.

But we're not seeing it anymore.   We're not seeing the rallying for these kids like we did before.  Even families who committed to children in those first months had to wait until close to their final travel dates for the relief of knowing they were fully funded.  Yes, it comes together... we don't, if we can help it, abandon our own in the process.  But it's slowing down, just like the family commitments are slowing down, and leaving those families who DID step up in a frightening lurch, not knowing where the money is going to come from, if it will keep them from getting to their child as quickly as possible when time is very much of the essence.  This should not be.

My friends, we did not do this on purpose, but we became complacent with the news that improvements were occurring in this place.  We unconsciously relegated it in our minds to a state of 'not as bad'.  Well, not as bad as a Nazi death camp isn't exactly saying much.  It's like being transferred from Auschwitz to Theresienstadt.  You're still in a concentration camp.  You still must cling to a thread of life in a desolate place.  You still need out.  It is the SAME in The Bad Place.  Those kids still need out... and bad.  Given a chance to flourish, you should see what these children have become!  Those left behind could do the same... given the chance.

Remember THIS Katie?

Just look at her now!

And trust me, she is not the only one flourishing.  As I get permission to share before/after photos, I will add them to this post or make a separate post.

I urge you now to fight complacency, to steel yourselves to fight for these kids just as you did (or, if you're new to the international adoption scene, as others did) 12 months ago.  Do not mistake improvements for a decrease in urgency.  Do not mistake what looks like a relatively healthy child (ie one who is not grossly malnourished to the point of looking like an infant) for an ACTUAL healthy child, because not much could be farther from the truth.  Don't let the children of The Bad Place fall down on your priority list.

Specifically I'm asking a few things, a few concrete things we can do to fight this complacency, this errant notion that things are 'better'.

1. (And most important) - PRAY!  GOD is the almighty one who will set the lonely in families (Psalms 68:6) and HE can do this.  BELIEVE in the power of prayer.  Did we not pray home each and every child in such fragile condition who is now flourishing?  I am certain that was not done without God's hand on those children.

2. DONATE.  There are families in the process of adopting children from The Bad Place who are still significantly short on funds.  Your gifts to them, however big or small, make their days.  I promise you, the number of times I have seen an adoptive parent overjoyed because their family's grant fund grew by a few bucks is astounding.  You'd be surprised how little you have to do to bless someone enormously.

3. ADVOCATE.  These families and the waiting children alike NEED for us to scream for them.  They need to be seen.  We all have limited resources, but we know, if we all give a little, we can achieve great things.  Widening our pool of people who can give a little will ease the stress on the others and bring about more results more quickly.

4. ADOPT!  Yes, I know not everyone can adopt.  I know not everyone should adopt.  But we are ALL called to care for the orphan, it's there in the Bible, and it's not a calling, it's a commandment.  People care for the orphan in many ways, but many of them rule out adoption because they don't feel 'called' to it.  My request of you is that you truly examine the reasons you feel like adoption is not for you, and make sure that you are not closing a door that God wants you to walk through.  Examine whether it is rationality, or fear, behind those reasons.  And if it's fear?  PLEASE talk to someone who has been involved in the adoption community about the miracles we have witnessed.  Do NOT be afraid.  No one will fault you if adoption is still not for you... but let God close that door if it's meant to be closed.  Don't ignore him tapping on your shoulder like I did for nine days before I started this blog.  I promise, he won't leave you alone until you listen.


Finally, I want to acknowledge that the place I am referring to is NOT the only bad place by far.  Conditions in orphanages all over the world are terrible, but because of the way the system works in the country these children are in, their window of opportunity is very limited.  It is a combination of factors that makes this particular place one of urgency.  Certainly I would not fault anyone for adopting from or supporting a family who is adopting from another orphanage - not one bit - they all need to come home.  I just don't want this notion that things are 'better' at The Bad Place to stand between these kids and their families.  Maybe, someday, it will be 'all better'... but that starts with getting those kids out of there, and that starts with YOU - whatever role you choose to take.

I have included within, or am including below, links to lists of families adopting from The Bad Place, links to blogs of some families who I have been following in their journey to bring their children home, or who have been advocating for these children, or both - and am also including below the photos of each child currently waiting on Reece's Rainbow from The Bad Place, and a link to their profile.  I will also be profiling these children in more detail with my angel tree children as time and space allow.  Please see the children.  Please see the families.  Please act.

Blogroll of families adopting from The Bad Place

The Children of The Bad Place - Part I

The Children of The Bad Place - Part II

And here are their faces.  Look at the ages below the children's pictures (their names and ages are also links to their profiles).  I promise you will be shocked by the ages of these children... malnutrition has left them looking much younger than they are, their bodies are in a state of starvation and have all but shut down.)  As you look at the pictures and the ages that go along with them, remember that little Katie was nine years old when that first heartbreaking photo of her was taken.  She was functioning at the level of a 0-3 month old baby.  For these children, age is indicative of nothing but how long they've suffered in an orphanage.

Presley is three years old.

Kramer is eight years old.

Carson is six years old.

Chad is nine years old.

Brandi is six years old.

Gage is two years old.

Garnet is ten years old.
This little one is also up for Angel Tree voting this week.

Harvey is three years old.

Thad is nine years old.

Theodore is ten years old.

See their faces.  Pray.  Advocate.  Donate.  Adopt.  However you choose to do it, care for the children and families of The Bad Place.  Care for the least of these.  PLEASE.

Not To Be Forgotten: Boys with DS, Ages 6-9, Part II (Plus one!)

Last week I kicked off a new campaign to advocate for the children from Reece's Rainbow who were nominated for Angel Tree but did not receive the majority vote/drawing winner's choice.  It is a sentiment I've heard echoed over and over among advocates and adoptive families - 'I want to vote for one child, but it makes me so sad for the rest...'

This, my friends, is a sign of a truly loving and Godly community.  As much as we love our 'favorite' RR kiddos, we advocate for the least of these, and that means every single one of these kids.  So, as loud as I screamed for 'my' Brett (Brett #19) during week 3, now it's time to scream for those left behind.

So here's the deal.  For the next 13 weeks, I will be posting twice a week, each post highlighting four of the children who were not chosen for Angel Tree.  I will go in order of the voting, starting with boys with down syndrome, ages 6-9.  Last week I posted for four of these boys - due to some real-life factors, I got behind on the other three (one of these boys has found a family already - so there are only 7 left!) so I'm playing catch-up.  Because I'm 'short' a kid in this category, I will be adding a 'plus one' - another child who is on my heart who desperately needs to come home.  There are a good number of those children as well, so unless you folks get committing to kids, this may run 14 weeks or more in all reality!

A friend who is helping me created this video of the boys in this category as well as the boys with DS over 10 years old.  It's a wonderful introduction to these little guys and their friends who will be featured in the coming days, and certainly worth watching - check it out right here!

Credits to Beth for the video!

...To sweeten the deal even further, I'm offering a giveaway.  I don't have anything fancy to give away, no iPads or even gift cards, only my humble services.  It is my hope that this campaign will drum up a few more followers for this blog - because more followers means more people looking at these kids, which equals a greater pool of potential families.  So, every two weeks, I will draw names from a pool of people who donated or shared these posts.  The winner will get to choose any RR child, and the following week I will do a post all about that specific child.  If you have photos or personal stories you want me to include, I'll be happy to do so.  Just reply to the post with who you donated to (any of the children featured in that post, or of course my Brett - can't leave him out...) in ANY amount, or where you shared the post (no need to post a link, just facebook/twitter/blog) and you'll be entered into the drawing.  If you donate AND share, you can receive two entries.  Since any donation amount earns you an entry, the maximum possible number of entries will be 2 per person per post.  Since there will be 2 posts per week and 2 weeks per voting period, this means a maximum of 8 entries for any one person in any one drawing.  Also apparently an incentive to recall your high school knowledge of exponents... I'll keep everyone apprised of where we are in the voting period with each post.  As of this post (Technically the second Week 1 post), this is the second of four posts to enter the first giveaway period.  

Let's see if we can't start making a difference to these boys who were 'passed over' in angel tree voting - BEFORE angel tree even begins!  Everyone wins here - the kids win when you donate to their grant funds, you win when you get to choose your very own angel to highlight, I win when people read my blog and do what I want so badly for them to do - notice these kids!  

Now let's finish out week 1!

Boys with Down Syndrome, Ages 6-9

Mickey

And here's what Reece's Rainbow has to say about Mickey:

Boy, Born June 2005
Special need: Down syndrome (no heart issues) This very sweet young boy has Down syndrome.   He is well loved by his foster mother and father. He was a dancer in the orphanage performance.   Whenever he hears music he starts dancing.   He was cooperative and happy. He can wash his face if his foster mom gets the towel ready and can do other self help skills.   He can feed himself and. He can pull his pants up and down.   He has good speech and can say many words.   He pulls his chair to the table when it is time to eat and he will clean his mouth after he eats.  He is kind when he plays with other children and does not take their toys.  He likes to run around and play with balls.   He is very curious and likes to watch large machinery outside.   He loves cars and will play with them and watch them out the window for long periods of time. He was described as a “happy, curious and lovely child.”   He is healthy and energetic. He is friendly to others and sensible! He does not have any heart issues. Single moms permitted, no more than 6 children at home, only one parent has to travel. $110.70 is available towards the cost of my adoption!

Oh, what a sweetie!  If his picture didn't do you in, I'll bet that loving description did.  Someone cares very much for this little boy... he is very lucky to be in foster care rather than an orphanage setting... but unfortunately, for an orphaned child, this is something that can change in the blink of an eye, and when it does, it turns their world upside down.  Imagine being in a loving home - even if not your home, not your own belongings - getting individual attention and care every day... then suddenly being transferred to an orphanage or institution, where you're only one of many, many mouths to feed, a means to an end, just someone's paycheck.  You'd be lonely, scared, sad, and you wouldn't understand what this was or why it happened to you.  This is the sort of thing that creates attachment disorders.  But it doesn't have to be that way!  Mickey is in a foster home!  Many times, if a child in foster care has an adoptive family commit to them, they will be kept in foster care even when they might have been transferred to await their family.  YOU could be the difference between Mickey and this scary, uncertain future... please, don't let what would be the biggest tragedy of his little life come to fruition.  And if you can't go get him, a situation I'm in myself, won't you donate just a little bit to his grant fund, to make things that much easier for the family who does commit to him?  Trust me when I tell you that every single penny DOES count to these families!  Donate to Mickey HERE.

Jaeger

Reece's Rainbow on Jaeger:  

Boy, born March 2006
Diagnosis: Down syndrome
Eyes and hair black

*The agency has a video of him at 6 years, 2 months old.  He is putting together a puzzle, playing on a playground, and adorable!  Video available for serious inquiries*

Oh my goodness, the grin on this boy!  Even with the poor quality of the picture, Jaeger’s personality shines!

The information we have is from 2009, when he was 3 years old.   He has received special ed services, starting in 2008.   He can understand and follow sample instructions, he begins games and has started potty training.  He eats well, and feeds himself.

He walks and moves well through obstacles.  He has good eye-hand coordination while playing, but not good eye-feet coordination yet.  He loves the pool.  He likes his caregivers and smiles and is very affectionate.

He is really a happy boy and healthy, with good skills for his age.

The paperwork also stated that at the time, he needed treatment for his teeth.

Update from 2010:

He starts his own games, he likes making strokes with pencil or crayons, he can now use scissors . He helps keep the toys in right places.

Jaeger is a social child, he participates with his peers, he integrates into a group, he walks, runs, jumps, climbs and turns without difficulty; but he is not aware of the danger.  He receives physical therapy and occupational therapy to increase his abilities.

·         Large families okay (with adequate space in the home)

·         One trip – total travel time 21-30 days in country (one parent can leave earlier)

·         Average length of time from Dossier submission to travel is 7-10 months

·         Total costs estimated around $27,000

$1215.00 is available towards the cost of my adoption!

Like Mickey, Jaeger has been lucky.  (Anyone else find that funny?  Mickey and Jaeger?  No, just me, and I'm a dork?  Fine.)  He has been able to receive services in the orphanage and has come a long way because of it.  But like Mickey, what's next for Jaeger is anything but a guarantee.  Will this sweet boy, who has been taught to care for himself and to enjoy play, love, and care, continue to receive those things?  The last update for Jaeger is from 2010.  Is he still receiving those services, or has he, as I feared for Mickey, been passed on to a place where there is no therapy, no care, no love?  There is only one way to absolutely secure a bright future for Jaeger, and it begins with you.  Donate to Jaeger HERE.

Felix

What a handsome young man!  Here's what Reece's Rainbow has to say about Felix:

Boy, Born October 20, 2003

Diagnosis: Down syndrome

What a cutie!  Betcha he is a handful!  Felix is blessed to be at more of an internat than the institution.  He doesn’t have many words of his own, but his receptive understanding is very good.  He is potty trained and does ask to go to the bathroom.  He is described by his caregivers as very friendly and quite the comedian!

More photos available, married couples only.

$1049.50 is available towards the cost of my adoption!

...Did you catch it too?  Read that description again.  Did you catch it this time?
 ..."more of an internat than the institution"...
Imagine if the greatest blessing on your life was NOT to be in a mental institution.  Imagine if the greatest thing that had ever happened to you was to be placed in a home for older orphans?  And not even just 'an internat' but 'more of an internat than an institution'.  What does that mean?  Does it mean it's 'sort of' an institution?  It's only 'sort of' an internat?  So is Felix only 'sort of' blessed?  He sure would be more blessed to be *adopted*.  To be somebody's son, somebody's brother, somebody's friend?  Let me tell you, Felix is blessed to be in 'more of an internat' for now, but that blessing does not last forever.  All that awaits Felix in his country is the institution, and even if he didn't have down syndrome, older children who age out of internats are turned out on the streets between the ages of 16-18 years old with nothing more than a rucksack and $100 to their names... 80% will fall into crime or prostitution.  But for Felix?  He has an extra copy of the 21st chromesome, and because of that, he will live out his days in mind-numbing dullness and bare minimal care at an institution.  I've known people who have been to the institutions in Felix's country.  These boys' days are made by the rarely visiting adoptive family bringing tidings of chalk and bubbles.  Chalk and bubbles!  Party favors, in America!  For them, maybe the best thing that happened to them all year.  I can't even put into words how much this breaks my heart.  Regardless of what his present is, don't let that be his future.  Donate to Felix HERE.


Now for our 'plus one'...

Presley

 This little girl is in what has become known as 'the bad place'.  And that is putting it mildly.  The orphanage she calls 'home' (or would, if she could speak at all), is a dark, dark place, devoid of love, care, and stimulation.  It was called, by the government of its own country, their 'Auschwitz' - after the Nazi death camp of WWII.  This place averages one death every month - mostly from preventable causes like malnutrition.  It is this that makes her situation so URGENT... this and the fact that in her country, an agency only has a child's file for two months - after that the files are returned.  They can still be assigned to another agency or requested, but it's fair to say that a child's chances of being adopted are somewhat diminished at that point.

Here's what Reece's Rainbow has to say about Presley (who, perhaps also fell victim to someone listening to their iTunes while naming kids?)

DOB: 2009
Diagnosis: delays in all aspects of development, behaviors consistent with severe Autism

Presley is almost 3 years old. We have recent reports from a doctor and a child psychologist not affiliated with the orphanage that includes their opinions based on observations and a review of her medical history. Presley does not walk, talk or have any self-help skills. She does not play with toys and avoids interactions with adults and children. The reports indicate that Presley’s physical growth is significantly delayed, both her height, weight and head circumference. Her weight is comparable to an 8 month old baby. The doctor’s report indicates the following: “The child presents anti-social behavior, lack of adequate human contact, willingness to remain isolated and elements of aggressiveness- Autism”. The psychological report indicates that Presley avoids contact with other people and will withdraw if contact is initiated, avoids eye contact and does not play with toys nor attempt to manipulate them at all (bang them together, etc) when they are given to her. Her responses appear to be only sensory related. She does have self-stimulating behaviors. Her cognitive development is listed at a 5 month old level and her social and communication development at below 3 months old.

Presley was born premature and has spent her entire life in an orphanage that is known to have sub-par care. It is possible that some of her delays are a result of her environment. Interested families should be prepared for the fact that the behaviors noted do indicate more than basic “orphan delays” per the reports. Both the medical and psychologist reports are available for families interested in adopting Presley.

Additional photos of Presley are available.

All that sounds awfully scary... severe autism... aggressiveness... but even though it is stated that Presley's delays are greater than average orphanage delays, many of the things said about her could be said about many of the children in this orphanage... before they were given a chance.  And you should see them now!  In fact... you probably have... 

Presley deserves a chance too.  She's just a little girl, only three years old.  She could receive so much intervention and therapy and care in the U.S... but someone has to step out in faith first.  Because her file will go back to the government in less than two months and she will no longer be able to be listed with Reece's Rainbow, Presley does not have a 'donate' button - but once a family commits to her, she will.  Are you that family?



PLEASE don't forget to donate (in ANY amount) to these kids or to Brett #19, and to share this post, (and don't forget to let me know in a comment!) to be entered to choose a child to receive a post of his/her own at the end of this giveaway period (#1 - will end at the end of this week).  There is only ONE entry so far so this could be a cheap and easy chance to get the child of your heart noticed!  Since I'm behind, there will be a few posts this week so STAY TUNED!

There Will Be A Day

This is the title of a song by Jeremy Camp.  The song is about Jesus' promise of salvation in the next life... but I have found it sticking in my head today (and you guys know who writes these blog posts, and it's not me) so I listened to it on youtube and realized... it was exactly the premise I wanted to write this post on.  Listen.

Now remember my last post - when I said that I have every intention of making SURE that any family who commits to Brett is fully funded... but that it all starts with you, clicking that vote button?  Remember when I said I would post tomorrow about what happens once he's fully funded?  This is that post.

For Brett... the little baby abandoned by his mother... the little boy shunned by society... there WILL be a day... with no more tears... no more pain... and no more fears.
There WILL be a day... when the burdens of *that* place will be no more
He'll see Jesus' face.

In the framed photo in the living room of his adoptive family.  On the wall of his Sunday School classroom.  In his children's Bible.  On his coloring sheets.  And someday, in Heaven... but not yet.  Because Brett is only 10 going on 11... he's got a lot of life ahead of him... once he's got a committed family and the funds to come home.

There will be a day when someone comes to the orphanage just for him.  When they come twice a day to spend time with him, every day for five days.  When someone will play with him, sing to him, dance with him, tell him how much he is loved both by his parents and his Creator... soak up his laughter... wrap him up in their hugs... and promises to come back for him.

Then there will be a day...

A day that can't even be adequately described by words.

A day called "Gotcha Day".

That person that came to spend time with Brett... or perhaps the husband or wife of that person... will come to the orphanage to see him... only this time, they will bring clothes, a camera, and a smile as wide as the ocean they crossed to get to him.  They will dress him in clean clothes that fit - maybe for the first time ever.  They will say goodbye to the nannies, to the director, to the building.  They will ride away in a car... only this time, in the car, the person sitting with Brett will talk to him and grin while he stares out the window, wide-eyed at a world he's never known.  This time, the person will give him toys to play with in the car, and instead of taking him to another cold, scary building, they'll take him to a warm room, give him some food to eat that is more delicious than anything he ever got at the orphanage, and tuck him into a warm bed.  Maybe they'll sing him a song.  Maybe Brett will be scared - maybe it won't all be perfect - after all, all he has known is an institutional life... but he is learning what it is to be loved.  The very same child who was left to die as a newborn... a son, a brother, a friend.

There WILL be a day.

A picture is worth a thousand words.  If you have never experienced a homecoming or a Gotcha Day, the true wonder of it is beyond your comprehension.  I have never witnessed one - only through pictures and videos... but I will, someday.  These people... these children... have already had that day.  The Big Guy gave me short notice on exactly how this post was going to go, so I wasn't able to gather many pictures (when you  use families' photos, it's prudent to ask permission), but here are some, and they are truly worth a thousand words.

GOTCHA!

Photos from 'Phoebe & Bella's Gotcha Day' with permission.

Yes, indeed, Jeremy Camp... there WILL be a day.  A day when sweet Brett... and so many other orphans... will leave their institutions forever, and learn the love of a family and the love of a merciful and graceful God.

But, of course, you all know, that Gotcha Days don't happen without families being fully funded... and being fully funded doesn't usually happen without fundraising... and fundraising doesn't happen without advocating... and voting... well, that's advocating too.

Everyone can do *something*.

Let's talk about the rest of what Brett will experience.  After a couple days in this apartment, a couple more car rides and appointments, maybe a bit of sightseeing, the car will take Brett and his new mommy or daddy (or both - this country allows one or both parents to travel) to a big place called an airport.  The airport is loud and at first it bothers Brett, he's not used to this kind of noise, but for the first time ever, there is someone there to reassure him.  They get into what looks like a really big car, which starts going very fast and very high.  Brett looks out the window, amazed as the sky becomes the ground.  They do this a couple more times... after a while, Brett isn't afraid anymore.  The woman called Mama gives him candies and cookies and coloring books and stickers.  They watch movies and play with some squishy dough and doze off together on the longest flight.  Then the last plane lands.  Brett and his Mama get off the plane and walk into another airport... but this time, instead of getting on another plane, they go through a long line, and on the other side, there are people - smiling, waving flags and signs, holding toys and candy and things Brett could only have dreamed about in the orphanage.  Maybe he's introduced to brothers and sisters.  Maybe all the commotion upsets him, but once again, Mama reassures him.  In time he will get used to the new types of stimuli in his life.  They will get in another car, and drive to a place called 'home'.  At home, Brett will be settled into his very own bed.  Maybe it will have dinosaur sheets, or cars and trucks, or colored stripes.  Maybe Mama will sing again.  He likes it when she sings.  Sometimes he doesn't understand her words, but he knows it sounds nice.  And in the morning, he will wake up and begin to experience all the amazing things that 'home' has to offer.  He has already become a beloved member of a family.  There are so many more exciting things (bumps in the road, yes - but don't all families have these?) in Brett's future...

Things he will never be able to do... without YOU.

This is the last time I will beg you to vote for sweet Brett... forgotten and abandoned his whole life... until now... as voting ends today.  Start the chain reaction that leads to Gotcha Day and all that comes after it.

Vote.  And there WILL be a day.

Impatient

It's no secret... I'm not a patient person.  It's obvious if you know me.  Of course I give kids a little more leeway ("if you don't put your baby sister down by the time I count to three, you're going to have to take a time out... one... two..." *kid still holding baby, staring at me expectantly*  "Okay, I guess you're going to have to go to time out..." *Pause* *Kid puts baby down* "Thank you")  Yeah, I really gotta work on that whole 'never saying three' thing.  ;)  But outside kids - no patience for me.

Take today for example.  I can tell you probably half a dozen different times I've been impatient.  Last night, M and I stayed up all night waiting to go see a meteorite shower.  We busied ourselves cleaning, playing games, watching one of my favorite movies that I haven't seen in over a year because I always sob like the world is ending... finally went out and got into the car, drove far from the city, and settled in a spot at a state park to watch the sky.  Instead of shooting stars, we saw nothing but clouds.  Impatience from me.  Come on clouds, go away so I can so M the meteorites!  Alas, the clouds did not go away and we headed home, stopped for donuts, and came in the house.

Once in the house, I grappled through my bag and then looked at M.  "Where's my phone?"  Called it three times.  Both of us listened for it.  Looked everywhere.  Nope.  Left it at the state park, 25 miles on country and township roads AWAY from where we lived... at 7:00 in the morning when neither of us had slept.

Oh BOY was I impatient then!  I sure am glad nobody caught me speeding... I complained loudly about wishing I had a teleporter to go get it on the way there.  On the way home, I rested my head on the steering wheel at stop lights, whined about how tired I was, while M passed out in the seat beside me (I told her she could go to bed, she didn't have to come back out with me... she wanted to).  When we finally got home my stress level was through the roof because of all that impatience.

We slept for hours, and when I woke up, the first thing I did was check my phone.  You see, since my sweet Boo passed away two weeks ago today, I didn't feel ready to bring home another kitten right away, or even to look for one.  I was still hurting for the one I had lost.  Finally, last weekend, we made a trip to an adoption center, with no intentions of bringing a kitty home... just allowing me to see them and pet them and realize that I had been given an opportunity to give another cat a happy home.  After that I was ready.  But I'm picky and I had some caveats... I love black cats, it has to be black.  The lady at the adoption center said they're hard to get adopted anyways, because of superstition.  How horrible!  Me, always the one rooting for the underdog, was reminded of the PEOPLE societies throw away because they're 'unadoptable'.  Yes, black cat it had to be.  It had to be male - we already have one male, and though we neuter, we're unsure of what the dynamic would be bringing a young female home.  And it had to be young, young enough to bond with me.  Not too young to where it would be detrimental to its development to seperate it from its litter, but newly adoptable - or even an orphan.  Yeah, that's me, lover of orphans, even the feline variety.

The 'right' kitty wasn't at the adoption center that day.  I spent a week trying to get a hold of them to find out if they had any in foster care that would be ready soon.  Impatience set in and I put out an ad on craigslist.  Within hours someone had responded.  We e-mailed back and forth for a couple days.  Someone else responded and I e-mailed with him.  It was his call I was waiting on when I woke up... at 2:45 this afternoon.  And every minute it didn't come, I got more and more impatient, until I finally sent him an e-mail asking what was up.  Spoke to him and it seemed like things weren't going to work out today.  Nah, not gonna work for me - too impatient.  Sent a text to the girl.  She fortunately responded quickly.  Then things slowed down, waiting for arrangements to be made to meet the kittens she was caring for.  This time, it was after 6 pm, and I was so impatient that I was ready to get in the car and drive up to the cat adoption center again, just to check in person (since they were so hard to get a hold of) if they had anyone available for me.  Alas, as I got in the car to go, I fortunately checked my phone and realized they weren't even open.  Scratch that (no pun intended).  Went back in the house, checked my phone and refreshed my e-mail about a hundred times.  Finally I thought I'd be clever and use murphy's law to my advantage... set to work moving and cleaning under my bed so that I'd surely be busy and filthy by the time I heard from her.  No avail.  It is very clean under my bed... I even changed my sheets and MADE my bed, which I don't generally do (why bother?  You're just going to mess it up again!), and there was no word.  Exhausted from impatience, I settled on my bed, checked my e-mail and my phone one last time, and settled to sleep.  Word didn't come until almost 9 pm that I would have to wait until tomorrow to meet this new fuzzy buddy.

BOY was that a lot of impatience over a matter of 24 hours or less!

When I woke up, I was impatient for a new episode of a favorite show to come on.  Fortunately, I have my DVR set to record it, because when I realized I hadn't blogged today, and that I had the perfect idea, I went to my blog-zone... where I don't really pay attention to anything but my blog.  Right now I'm impatient thinking about publishing this post, seeing if/how people respond to it.

And do you know what else I'm impatient about?

Go on, guess.  It's not so hard, I promise.  I bet you know already, even if you don't realize it.



....




.....




....

Brett.  Angel Tree.  Every single day that goes by that his little face is NOT on the 'My Family Found Me' page at Reece's Rainbow.  Talk about refreshing something a million times - do you know how many times a day I check if he's on MFFM, where he is in the AT voting, whether anyone else has spoken up for him?

Have YOU voted for Brett in the Angel Tree yet?  He NEEDS your vote guys, this week's voting is neck and neck!  I'm impatient to raise the money this little guy needs to help a family commit to him.  I'm impatient to see his face in the 'winner's circle' on AT, and know that in a few months' time, his grant will have grown substantially.



And then I think.



And I remember my last blog post.



And I remember that in ten days, Brett will turn eleven years old.



Eleven years spent in hospitals, orphanages, and institutions.  Who knows how long he spent lying in that field, abandoned by his mother.  Who knows how long he waits every day (or MORE) for something to sooth his hungry stomach, for clean clothes or sheets, for the blissful relief of sleep... the things I've been taking for granted in my impatience all day.

Wow.

That's humbling.



And then I think again, and I realize something even more heartbreaking.  I've been impatient to bring a new kitten home for a week, tops.  How long has Brett been waiting to COME home?  How long has he waited to find a family to call his own?  ELEVEN YEARS!  At this point his disability is almost a blessing, because maybe he doesn't know how to be impatient, maybe he doesn't know there's another way to live, one with a family and a full belly... maybe he doesn't know enough about what he's missing to even be impatient.

But he's still waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

And every time I refresh that page, hoping to see his face on the 'rescued' page?

That's one more moment HE waits to be RESCUED.

Imagine waiting ELEVEN YEARS for something as vitally important as a HOME, a FAMILY, a full stomach... or just for someone to notice you!  Imagine the days, all blending together because they're all the same, each one of them without any news that you will get what you so desperately need.  Imagine not knowing how much longer you're going to have to wait... or if you're ever going to get what you so desperately need at all!  Put yourself in sweet Brett's place.  Notice him.  No, he won't know you noticed him today, but if we all share him, vote him up to the top of the angel tree, raise his grant fund... one of these days, his FAMILY will notice him... and no, Brett probably won't know that right away either... but then a day will come when someone comes just to see HIM, just to spend time with HIM, and the days he spends without the love and care he so desperately needs will be numbered.  And he'll patiently wait, each day, in the institution, for that day to come when he is free.

Please help me, don't make him be patient any longer.  Change starts with us.  If you can't adopt, donate.  If you can't donate, advocate.  If you can't advocate, share.  If you can't share, pray.  If you don't pray, vote.  Everyone, EVERYONE can click that little star above sweet Brett's picture... and maybe you'll never know how big a difference that makes... but it doesn't make it any less real.

Tonight... well, I'm still as impatient as ever... but not over phones or kittens or TV shows... over a little orphan boy who needs a family to call his own.  And if that's not a good reason to be impatient, I don't know what is.

It's August 23, 2001

In America, children are getting ready to go back to school.  They are picking out backpacks, folders, new clothes and shoes, comparing schedules with their friends, getting the last ounce of fun out of their summers.  Their parents are either worn out from having the kids home all summer, or dreading going back to early mornings and homework.  We were living out the last few weeks before our entire world changed on 9/11/01.  We were innocent.  I was twelve years old; getting ready to start the seventh grade.

At some point that month, I made a list of things I 'needed' for school, and then a couple lists of things I wanted, but wasn't likely to get.  According to 12 year old me, I absolutely required an expandable 5 star trapper keeper, grippy pens (in blue, black, red and green), a brand new box of crayola markers (both skinny and fat), fat sharpie markers (all colors), mechanical pencils and lead, 4 notebooks (70 page, college ruled, four colors), a glue stick, a pair of scissors, loose leaf paper, 3 prong folders with two pockets, new clarinet reeds, a new pad for one of my clarinet keys, gym clothes, colored pencils, and a 16 pack of Crayola crayons.  For the seventh grade.  Wow.  Looking back at myself, I feel like I was the portrait of excess.  As if I didn't have enough old crayons, markers, pens, and folders lying around.

But then it gets worse.  The next page is things I wanted but was unlikely to get.  A computer and accessories, software, a kitten, a gerbil, a guinea pig (apparently adoption has been on my mind longer than I thought...), and a $5 raise in my allowance.  Gee, 12 year old me, you don't ask for much, do you?

The last page is a short list... the things I wanted most in the world... a baby sister... and for my parents to get back together.  They had seperated on June 13, 2001.

The sad thing is, I got everything on that first list, and more.  By my 14th birthday I had my own computer and printer and scanner.  I remember that summer well.  I spent every day watching my little brother, playing at the park, chatting with people on the internet (which was completely not advisable, but the internet was so new, we weren't prepared for its dangers...) and watching my favorite shows.  It was a good summer.

But it's August 23, 2001.  Across the ocean, across another continent, there is a field.  It is hot.  Sweltering, even.  The temperatures are in the 80's and 90's every day, the humidity 70% or more.  Air conditioning is a luxury most people don't have.  There is a woman... she is very pregnant, hot, uncomfortable, and poor.  She worries constantly about how she could possibly raise this baby inside her.  Then, on that hot, hot day, she goes into labor in the middle of the country.  There is no time or means to get to a hospital.  She delivers a little boy.  Somehow, she learns that the little boy has down syndrome.  Now, not only is she facing raising a child, she's facing raising a child with a disability that she doesn't feel equipped to deal with, who may never be independent.  She's scared and heartbroken.  She wants to run... so she does.  She leaves her little boy in that field.  The sweltering hot one... well, really the whole country is sweltering at this point in the summer.  She lies him on the ground.  Maybe she thinks he will be better off if he dies.  Maybe she doesn't care.  Maybe she thinks he's going to die anyways.  Maybe she's heartbroken that she can't care for him.  The reason doesn't really matter.  She lays that baby down in the field, and she runs.

Hours pass.  The baby boy continues to lie in the field, getting hotter and hotter, belly aching for sustenance, cries going unheard.  He begins to dehydrate, overheat.  His breathing slows.  He slips into unconsciousness on and off.  When he wakes, all he feels is pain.

Meanwhile, in America, a 12 year old girl goes shopping for her 5 star trapper keeper.

Back in Eastern Europe, someone is walking along the edge of the field.  The little boy has just startled from his state of semiconsciousness by the sound of footsteps falling.  He begins to cry.  The pain is back.  It is always back when he wakes up.  He doesn't know how long he has been lying there, only that he needs help, that he's slipping away from this strange world he was so recently brought into.

The stranger hears a faint cry and turns in its direction.  The sound stops.  The stranger thinks, maybe I imagined it.  Then he hears another, louder cry.  This time there is no mistaking it.  He knows the sound of a newborn crying.  The stranger starts toward the sound, checking around in the distance for a mother and child.  Then, he almost stumbles over the little bundle on the ground, the boy who has slipped back into unconsciousness... and he knows where that cry came from.

There is no one around.  He calls out for help.  Where is this child's mother?  Who has left this little baby here, and why?  No one answers; no one comes.  Heart racing, the stranger picks up the fragile form of the child.  He rushes to bring him to the hospital, which is no easy feat as it is quite a distance from this remote field.  Upon arrival at the hospital, the baby is rushed into intensive care, given fluids and food, bathed, attached to all kinds of monitors.  The doctors and nurses wonder if he will even survive.  But the little boy... well, he's a fighter.  With the help of those doctors and nurses, his life is saved - against all odds.

Because he is a newborn, and because he has some atypical behaviors that the doctors don't know if indicate a disability or if they are simply a result of his abandonment, he is given all the routine tests for a variety of conditions.  One comes back positive.  The little boy has Trisomy 21, or Down Syndrome.  The doctors are sure they know what this means.  They may have saved his life, but it will never be normal or productive.  A phone call is made.  The baby is removed from all the monitors and dressed in a hospital gown.  A man and a woman come in an old, rusty van.  The man drives.  The woman takes the little boy and holds him on her lap.  She does not look at him or smile at him.  She stares out the window as the weak infant in her arms fusses quietly.  When the van stops, they have reached their destination.  The nearest orphanage for children under 3.

The boy is taken inside.  A bed that had been used by another child just days ago is stripped of its filthy sheets and the child is lain inside the crib.  Then the woman walks away.  The little boy is seemingly alone again.  He must be wondering, is the pain going to come back?  Is the heat going to overwhelm me again?  Am I going to die?  He cries out, hoping that someone will come to his aid, like they did in his first days in the hospital.  No one comes.  Somewhere else in the room, another baby fusses in response.  The new boy is upsetting the other children.  He is picked up roughly by another woman - not the same one that came to the hospital - and carried to a small room containing only one bare crib.  She deposits him in the crib, closes the door, and walks away.  This time when the newborn boy cries, there's not a single soul to hear him.

Over the days he gets used to a routine.  He learns that crying doesn't bring help anymore, so he gives up and only occasionally whimpers.  He is moved back into the big room full of cribs.  Twice a day, someone comes and shoves a bottle in his mouth.  He struggles to swallow the thick liquid flowing through the large hole in the nipple, but flat on his back, it is hard for him to swallow and most of it coats his sheets and torso.  The bottle is taken away.  He lies in the mess for hours.  After a while longer, someone comes, lifts him roughly out of the crib, and changes his leaking diaper and sodden clothes... but they don't change the sheets that were messed earlier.  He's placed back in the mess, to fall asleep and wait for the next bottle.  He lives this same routine over and over for years.  Then, a strange day comes.

He's much older now.  He's not much bigger, he can barely sit up in his crib, he knows no words, but what he doesn't know is that August 2004 has come and gone.  He is three now.  It is time to be transferred to the older child internat.  Yet another woman - a different one, but wearing the same sterile white coat, lifts him from his crib.  She changes his diaper.  She dresses him in layers.  Then she carries him back to the rusty van, where she holds him much in the same way the woman who brought him here did.  This time, the little boy tries to look around and make sense of his surroundings.  All he can figure out is that the feel, the smell, the sounds of this place are different.

The van stops.  A woman bustles out of a run-down looking building and quickly takes the boy from the arms of the woman in the white coat.  Words are exchanged, but the little boy doesn't understand them.  The new woman carries him toward the building, and the woman in the white coat and the rusty van roll away.  Now the little boy is scared.  This is a new place, he knows no one.  Where is his crib, his bottle, the little girl in the crib next to his who bangs her head on the bars all day long?

Much like when he was a newborn, he is deposited into a crib.  This one has cold metal bars and a thin vinyl mat, and the bars are so high that even if the little boy could stand, he couldn't see over the edge.  He waits for his bottle, but it doesn't come.  Instead, someone comes into the room, walks quickly around to each crib, and shovels spoonfuls of watery soup into the children's mouth.  This little boy isn't used to eating this way and most of it dribbles onto his clothes.  The nanny lets out a frustrated sigh and strips the clothes off the boy, but doesn't replace them.  Later, when the sodden diaper he has been wearing for almost a day begins to leak all over the mattress, leaving it sticky and uncomfortable, he waits for the woman who comes and puts a new diaper on him.  She doesn't come that day, or the next.  Only when the saturated diaper falls apart completely does someone come to re-outfit him.

With nothing to do in his crib every day, the little boy tries to entertain himself.  He bangs his head on the bars like the girl in the crib in the old room did.  He grabs the cold, steel bars, pulling at them, willing them to come open so he can explore the world beyond his cage.  Eventually, he figures out how to pull himself to a standing position using these bars.  He leans over the edge of his crib, sometimes dangerously close to falling out as he learns to gulp down the piping hot spoonfuls of soup and grows bigger.  Finally, it is decided that the crib is no longer the place for this boy.  He is moved to another room.  This room has mats to sleep on with no bars around them.  He still struggles to walk, having only moved his feet around in his tiny crib.  But in this room, the children are taken to a table for the watery soup meal every day, and slowly, he becomes steadier on his feet.  Still though, he hungers for attention, good food, and stimulation.  He starts to rock like some of the other children on the beds around him.  Sometimes the older children hit him, so he tries to stay out of their way.  When someone approaches him, he raises his arms in a defensive position to deflect any blow that might come.  He lives this existence for six long years.  One day someone dresses him in warm clothes and takes a photo of him.  He doesn't know what she's doing or why, but when she's done, the clothes are removed and put back in a box, and he goes back to wearing the faded shorts and tank top he wears every day.  Then as more time passes, nothing changes.   This is all he will ever know, he convinces himself.  He must simply learn to cope.

Now, it's August 12, 2012.  In eleven days, this little boy will turn eleven years old... and still he lives every day the same.  Wake up soaked in urine.  Eat a few spoonfuls of a watery mixture.  Spend a few hours rocking.  Every once in a while, trying to capture the attention of a kindly caregiver.  Gulp down a few more spoonfuls of watery soup.  Return to the thin mattress and filthy sheets where he woke up.  Rock, flap his hands, pull on his feet, bang his head... until sleep comes... and then he wakes up and it starts all over.  It will be the same routine on August 23, 2012.  He will have no idea he has just turned 11 years old.  There will be no cake, no singing... just the same torturous routine.

Meanwhile, across the ocean, the 12 year old who listed her desired school supplies and compared schedules with her friends on that very day he was left in the field, has turned 23.  There have been 11 birthday cakes, 11 songs, probably 100 gifts in pretty packages.  She sits on her bed typing on a laptop computer, listening to music, staring around at her room, her things... the clothes that don't fit in her dresser, the empty boxes of sweet foods like donuts and cereal that have already been eaten.  She checks the phone she carries with her everywhere, the one that can play music or surf the internet as well as call someone.  She sips an ice cold Dr. Pepper.

And she cries.

She cries because what she just typed onto her computer was about a real child.  The events might not have unfolded quite as she described them, but from everything she knows of this region, it's likely this child's existence was very similar to what was described.  She cries, because while she and her countrymen live here in the lap of luxury, a little boy who we call 'Brett' lives every single day without even the most basic provisions... good food, the love of a family, a safe place to live.  She cries because she feels like there is nothing she can do to help him.  If she could cross the ocean to bring him home, she would, but because she's three years too young, she can never bring him home.  She cries because she has looked at his little face every day for nine months, and no one has come forward to bring him home.  She cries because just as the nannies where Brett lives have ignored him most of his life, people she knows, people she loves, people who know this child is in need... are also ignoring him.  He is, once again, always, overlooked.

If you read my last post, the 'he' and 'she' in this mostly true story are easily identifiable.  If you haven't, well... please do, it's right here... and in case you just can't wait long enough to read that post (although not one of my longest ones)... the little boy is Brett #19-1 on Reece's Rainbow, and he really was abandoned in a field at birth.  He really was saved by doctors, only to be sent to an orphanage.  He most likely received little to no care and nurturing to help him grow physically, socially, and emotionally during that time.  He most likely lived most of his life in filth.  And the girl?  The one who HAD to have that five star trapper keeper eleven years ago?  Well, she's me.  It's me that's crying for this little boy right now.  It's me that weeps for his abandonment, not just by his mother or his country, but by everyone who sees his face and turns away and says 'it's not my problem'.

Brett needs two things.  Just two things.  Compared to my long list from when I was just a year older than him, what he needs is simple, and far more important.

First, Brett needs a family.  He needs a Mommy, or a Mommy and Daddy (his country allows single moms to adopt as well as couples.  There is also no upper age limit or limit on your current family size).  He needs parents to call his own, who won't abandon him, who will give him the love, safety, and nurturing he has deserved, but been deprived of, for so long.  If you even have the slightest inkling that adopting might be in your not-so-distant future... YOU could give him that.

Second, Brett needs money.  Adoptions from his country generally cost around $20,000, give or take based on the season and a variety of other factors.  Brett has only $112 in his grant fund.  If that number were, instead, say, $1,112... would a family be more likely to step up for him, knowing that 1/20 of the money had already been raised?  What if his grant read $11,112?  That leaves less than $10,000 for a family to raise.  I've seen auctions and giveaways raise three and four times that amount to bring children home.

Brett has been given a unique opportunity to meet this second need, which may help him reach the ultimately most important first need.  He is listed as a choice for boys over 10 with Down Syndrome who can be part of the Angel Tree program on Reece's Rainbow this year.  Last year, $1,000 was raised for every child on the angel tree.  But it's not automatic that Brett will be on the angel tree.  There are ten other boys, all of them deserving, but none of them laid on my heart so strongly as Brett has been... none of them with quite the same story... and people have been given the opportunity to vote for which two children from this category will land on the angel tree.  Brett is doing fairly well, but there are a lot of beloved boys on that list, boys who parents have met, who have strong advocates, who don't live in places like Brett does where we don't really know what is or is not going on.  Brett... is easy to pass over, because of this.

He needs your vote.  You can vote here at Reece's Rainbow by clicking on the little star above his photo, next to the word 'vote', one vote per IP per category (ie you can vote once for a child from the 10+ DS boys category, once for a child from the 10+ DS girls category, etc.)  You can also donate a meager $5 to be entered in a drawing to hand-pick which child gets a spot on the angel tree... and of course, I'll be begging that person to notice Brett if he doesn't make it in the voting.  He's spent far too long being ignored, overlooked and neglected.  No more.  Voting closes on Thursday 8/16 at 5 pm ET.  Let's make sure has a place on the angel tree when that hour comes.

Please.  Look around at your life, the things around you, and imagine them all gone.  Imagine living Brett's life.  Imagine what will happen to him if he is not adopted.  Children DIE in these institutions.  If they live to the age of 16, they are turned out on the streets or transferred to adult mental institutions, where they will live every day for the rest of their miserable lives, no hope of ever finding a family.  God delivered Brett from what would have been a certain death in that field.  He did not do that so he could suffer for years longer and finally die in an institution without ever knowing the love of a family.  He did it to give us the opportunity to see, know, and advocate for Brett... to find him a family.  And when he does find a family?  I personally promise to do everything in my power to fully fund them as quickly as possible.  I will sell all these earthly things I don't need, the shirt off my back, I will launch fundraiser after fundraiser, I will give up luxuries, meals, new things, and give to his family instead.  I promise you, the obstacle in Brett's adoption will NOT be financial... especially if we get him on the Angel Tree.  It is URGENT.

Please vote.  Please share this post and the last one and Brett's story with everyone you know.  You never know who might look at his picture and realize they're looking into the eyes of their son.  You never know what a difference you could make, until you try.  We are Brett's only hope.  Everyone else has let him down, his whole life long.  Let's not simply be more people to let him down... let's be the ones who change his life.  That poor boy has suffered enough.  He needs us, and I, for one, will NOT let him down.  Please, will you stand with me in making a difference to this sweet boy?