Sarah does not take no for an answer. It is clear when you see how far she has come. She was responsible for caring for babies at the orphanage, feeding, changing diapers, even sleeping with them. She did some of the cooking. She watched out for her little brother. Between the age of 5 and 7, she mothered others when she had no mother of her own.
On the soccer field she sacrifices her body, bloody knees and all to save the goal. Nothing gets by this kid. Yesterday she was playing with my husband and the other kids in the yard. She and Jeff were running at one another full speed. Later she told us she was scared of running into him, but refused to give up the ball and the potential for a goal, so she slid under him--a grown man outweighing her by at least 120 pounds. He jumped over her and toppled at the last moment, amazed at her courage and ferocity, but unwilling to land on her. She won the ball. She is fearless.
She wants to do everything. Grace plays violin, Sarah wants to learn. Katey does dance, Sarah wants to do ballet. John plays basketball and football, Sarah joins in. She is willing, and I am sure able, to compete in any sport she chooses, as she has an amazingly athletic body. She learned to ride a bike in a day, and the splits in about two days. She loved swimming the second she hit the water, even though she had never been in a pool before. Sarah is adventurous.
Since coming home she has learned to read. That is something we take for granted here in the US. In many countries, especially for orphans, learning to read is impossible. If you aren't considered worthy, why would you be taught to read? Sarah was one of the lucky ones though. She had a half of a year's worth of schooling when she got here. That is about a three year deficit by our country's standards. I don't think she had ever been read to, or looked at books. She started at zero and has soared. She speaks English. She is beginning to write in complete sentences, and this is the hardest for her because of her language deficiency. She spends hours each night doing her homework and then the extra work that we generate for her so she can catch up to her grade level.
Most first graders are pretty well along with addition and subtraction by this time of year. Yesterday Jeff gave her a sheet of 48 and asked her to do her best on time. The first time she finished in 17 minutes with a number of errors. The second time she did it in 11 minutes. The third time she completed the 50 with only two errors in 7 minutes. She pushes herself because she wants to learn. She wants to improve. She wants to catch up. Her teacher called me last week and said she believes Sarah wants to be at the top of her class. Pretty amazing considering she wouldn't even look her teacher in the eyes on the first day. She is relentless.
Sarah led the prayer at dinner last night. When she prays, her voice becomes very small and extra childlike, partly because she is unsure of her English, and partly because she is only 7. She always thanks God for family. I wish you could hear her. She still has a thick French accent, and the word family coming out of her sweet lips brings tears to my eyes every time she says it. She thanks God for school and food. She is spiritual.
Sarah obviously wanted to be loved when she first came home, but every time we hugged her, her stiff body would accept but not return. She would crawl by my feet when I was sitting on the couch and hesitantly move in to put her head on my lap. Now she freely gives and accepts hugs from all of our family. She is loved.
Are we like that with God? He is there. He is willing, but are we too scared to come to him, to trust him with our head in his lap, our lives in his hands? Can we all begin to be a bit more like Sarah who bravely plunges in even though it feels scary or unfamiliar. She trusted us with her life, her emotions, her whole being. Can we make that kind of progress, Sarah's kind of progress, with God?
Psalm 25:1 "In you, Lord my God, I put my trust."
On the soccer field she sacrifices her body, bloody knees and all to save the goal. Nothing gets by this kid. Yesterday she was playing with my husband and the other kids in the yard. She and Jeff were running at one another full speed. Later she told us she was scared of running into him, but refused to give up the ball and the potential for a goal, so she slid under him--a grown man outweighing her by at least 120 pounds. He jumped over her and toppled at the last moment, amazed at her courage and ferocity, but unwilling to land on her. She won the ball. She is fearless.
She wants to do everything. Grace plays violin, Sarah wants to learn. Katey does dance, Sarah wants to do ballet. John plays basketball and football, Sarah joins in. She is willing, and I am sure able, to compete in any sport she chooses, as she has an amazingly athletic body. She learned to ride a bike in a day, and the splits in about two days. She loved swimming the second she hit the water, even though she had never been in a pool before. Sarah is adventurous.
Since coming home she has learned to read. That is something we take for granted here in the US. In many countries, especially for orphans, learning to read is impossible. If you aren't considered worthy, why would you be taught to read? Sarah was one of the lucky ones though. She had a half of a year's worth of schooling when she got here. That is about a three year deficit by our country's standards. I don't think she had ever been read to, or looked at books. She started at zero and has soared. She speaks English. She is beginning to write in complete sentences, and this is the hardest for her because of her language deficiency. She spends hours each night doing her homework and then the extra work that we generate for her so she can catch up to her grade level.
Most first graders are pretty well along with addition and subtraction by this time of year. Yesterday Jeff gave her a sheet of 48 and asked her to do her best on time. The first time she finished in 17 minutes with a number of errors. The second time she did it in 11 minutes. The third time she completed the 50 with only two errors in 7 minutes. She pushes herself because she wants to learn. She wants to improve. She wants to catch up. Her teacher called me last week and said she believes Sarah wants to be at the top of her class. Pretty amazing considering she wouldn't even look her teacher in the eyes on the first day. She is relentless.
Sarah led the prayer at dinner last night. When she prays, her voice becomes very small and extra childlike, partly because she is unsure of her English, and partly because she is only 7. She always thanks God for family. I wish you could hear her. She still has a thick French accent, and the word family coming out of her sweet lips brings tears to my eyes every time she says it. She thanks God for school and food. She is spiritual.
Sarah obviously wanted to be loved when she first came home, but every time we hugged her, her stiff body would accept but not return. She would crawl by my feet when I was sitting on the couch and hesitantly move in to put her head on my lap. Now she freely gives and accepts hugs from all of our family. She is loved.
Are we like that with God? He is there. He is willing, but are we too scared to come to him, to trust him with our head in his lap, our lives in his hands? Can we all begin to be a bit more like Sarah who bravely plunges in even though it feels scary or unfamiliar. She trusted us with her life, her emotions, her whole being. Can we make that kind of progress, Sarah's kind of progress, with God?
Psalm 25:1 "In you, Lord my God, I put my trust."