SIDE BY SIDE
Let the Little Children Come Judy Blumhofer
As a child, my family had an illustrated children’s Bible that depicted Jesus sitting in the shade of a tree, on a rock, with children surrounding him. The caption below the picture stated: “Let the little children come onto me and deny them not, for to such as these belongs the kingdom of heaven.” I was always drawn to that picture. I have always loved working with children, even when I was still a child. At one point in my medical training, I debated whether I should pursue a career in pediatrics or geriatrics, but when I learned that pursuing a career in geriatrics meant I would have to go through various years of treating the general adult population before I’d be allowed to start my geriatrics training, the geriatric option promptly got eliminated. From then on, I made the decision that my career would focus exclusively on children. I would become a pediatrician and my career would be set. There are clearly plenty of people who become physicians and do that for their life, right?
Note to self: Never assume. Towards the end of my medical training, I learned about a post-residency program that was part of Samaritan’s Purse. The program partnered with graduating physicians to place them at missions hospitals around the world that needed medical staff. I never in my life had considered serving overseas in a long-term capacity, but I couldn’t get the thought out of my brain. Upon completing my pediatric training, I found myself on the ground in northeastern Honduras.
Note to self: Life is never what you have planned for it to be. I completed my two-year term with the post-residency program in Honduras and figured I still had a little bit left in me, so I moved over to serve with Christian Health Service Corps, a long-term sending agency, and re-upped to continue in Honduras. Remember, this was me who was never planning on living overseas.
Note to self: God very clearly had different plans. Shortly after this, a premature infant who had initially been my patient was placed in foster care. I had always been interested in foster care but, when I left the States, I thought that dream had been laid to rest. To my surprise, I discovered that foreigners
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were allowed to be registered foster parents in Honduras. Casa Santuario, the residential children’s home associated with our hospital’s ministry, got the necessary approvals and that onemonth-old baby boy came to my house. He was only supposed to come for a few months, yet somehow has now been with me nearly seven years.
Note to self: Those months of sleepless nights with newborns are no joke. Soon, I had other children in my home—sometimes teenagers, sometimes infants. Some stayed for a week, some stayed for a year. Some were physically healthy, some had medical needs. The reasons for coming and the reasons for leaving ran the gamut. But in those years, the Lord started to do a work and grow a passion in my heart not just for the children served in the foster care system, but also for the families caring for them. In the middle of this, I agreed to do respite care for a malnourished, developmentally delayed six-month-old. For a weekend, mind you. I figured, how hard could 48 hours with an extra baby be? Well, he came for the weekend, and he never left. I kid you not. It has now been 4 1/2 years.
Note to self: I think God’s still chuckling over this one. As I cared for children in my home, I grappled with so many emotions as I heard their stories and saw how their needs affected my home. I grappled with how the joy I felt at the honor of mothering them came at the expense of another mother’s pain; I grappled with their intense emotional and developmental needs, and not having the resources to provide them; I grappled
