Miles has a very special place in my heart. As a previous behavioral therapist for kids with autism, I get super pumped up whenever I meet another mountain-mover-kiddo with autism. I can spot them from a mile (or kilometer, if you will) away, and I have to restrain myself from running over and engaging with them on the spot. Each child with autism is so uniquely created. For those unfamiliar, let me just dispel the myth that every child with autism is also a savant, but it is true that the way each child thinks, acts, struggles, and loves is one-of-a-kind. Huge proof of the creativity of God, am I right?! So like I said, Miles has a special place in my heart. He has grown up in the orphanage since a very young age, before Hope Station was ever on the scene. His entire life consists of one playroom where he eats, goes to the bathroom, and passes the time. At night he goes across the hall to sleep, and the next day he does it all over again. No outings, no break in routine, no activities to spark his interest. If left to himself, Miles is pretty calm and quiet. He stands in the corner, flipping a piece of paper back and forth in front of his eyes, enjoying the visual stimulation it gives his brain. He makes sounds to himself, who knows if he is speaking in his own language or if he simply likes having the sound echo inside his head. When left to himself, this is what Miles is like. But let me tell you what I see in Miles. I see a kid who loves to laugh. I see a kid who takes every chance he can get for hugs and squeezes and physical contact from adults. I see a kid who soaks up every possible ray of sunshine from the window and longs for a chance to feel it on his skin. I see a kid who has such a capacity to learn if only someone would take the time to talk and interact with him. I see a kid who listens intently to anyone who sings or plays an instrument. I see a kid who wants to explore and experience the outside world and all the real-life knowledge it has to offer. There are so many other children like Miles in the orphanage. Stuck in their own little bubble of a world with no way out. Kids like Miles will most likely never be adopted, never have a champion who loves them as their own, never know the love of a family. And these are the kinds of kids that Hope Station champions. Whether it’s with hugs and squeezes, adoption advocacy, or training his nannies how to love and care for him well, we want to champion Miles. And Charlotte. And Asher. And Ezra... one kid at a time.
1 Comment
Grandma
9/8/2017 08:53:42 am
You are such a good advocate for these kiddos! May all your efforts be richly blessed! Love to you from Minnesota!
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A note from Rebekah...If you've ever wondered what it would be like to start a nonprofit from the ground up, to open a home for ORPHANS with special needs in Asia, you've come to the right place. Archives
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