Sponsorhip: Selfless or Selfish?

I had a friend ask me to write about my experience about sponsoring Kaleab and what it was like for me. This is what I said, through tears typing at my desk yesterday:

I signed up to be a sponsor through Children’s HopeChest in May 2009. I did it because I felt better about myself. Daydreams of my small financial inconvenience changing the life of a child made feel proud. I had done a good deed for the month, I could go buy those sandals I’d been eyeing at the mall. I deserved it. Right?

When Kaleab’s profile came in the mail, I was sincerely moved, but honestly, not any further moved than I had been previously by watching a Sally Struthers’ telethon on television. He wore a ragged t-shirt that slumped off his tiny frame like a napkin. His lifeless eyes rimmed in sadness and he grimaced instead of smiled. But he was just another sad face on a continent I would probably never visit anyway. I hung his picture on our refrigerator and started writing letters, never expecting a reply.

Months of no response only increased my cynicism. “He’s never going to write back”, “he’s probably not a real orphan”, and “what have I done?”, were all circling my thoughts. But every time I opened our fridge, I was haunted by knowing somewhere there was a child who had not eaten, while I grabbed a piece of chocolate cake.

Kaleab’s face stuck with me so often that his picture made his way to my desk at work. Every time I looked left from my keyboard, I had a piercing reminder to pray. Not only for him, but for myself. I began to pray that God would begin to break my heart for the things that broke His. My husband and I started the process to adopt from Ethiopia and we were learning more and more about Africa, Children’s HopeChest and what it meant to be an orphan and Kaleab was stealing my heart. I prayed for him several times a day and began planning a trip to meet him.

In September 2009, we received our first update from the home in Ethiopia where Kaleab was staying. The kids were eating once a day, regularly attending school and although I still hadn’t heard from Kaleab, I was a proud mama showing everyone the boy who graced my desk.

November brought my first letter from Ethiopia and I burst into tears as I read this boy call us his family and tell me how much he prayed for Le and I. How could he possibly ask God to bless me? Why would he ask God to bless me? Did he not know he was the one with nothing? When a friend of mine visited his carepoint in December, I begged her to check in on Kaleab. Her texts home to me are saved in my phone. I never want to lose them. She said when Kaleab found out she knew me, he popped into EVERY one of her pictures, he wanted to be for sure that I saw him.

Seven months later, pictures show Kaleab a well fed , happy ten year old. But they also show hope and love emitting from his eyes. He is loved and his smile can’t hide that. We are in the works of trying to adopt Kaleab and bring him home to his “Oklahoma mama.” But if he never lives in my house or sleeps under my roof, he has taken permanent residence in my heart. Kaleab is not my sponsor child, he is my son. I wish I could tell you that sponsorship has changed Kaleab’s life, but I can’t. Sponsoring him has been the most selfish thing I have ever done. I will never be convinced that he receives more from me than I ever have from him.