The Dead Next Door


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Yesterday my wife told me about an ad that she saw. It was about some parents trying to give up their son for adoption. The unborn boy has been diagnosed with Tay-Sachs disease, and is not expected to live through his childhood.

My wife asked me to consider adopting him. She was heartbroken that he would never know the love of a mother’s kiss, or the caress of a father’s tender hand. My first thought was “… really? We have so much to deal with now”… and I told her we would talk when I got home. I honestly had a very hard time figuring out how we could adopt a baby that we knew was going to die.

I understand now that she was looking at a situation through the eyes of a loving savior. I was looking at it through fear masquerading as practicality (as Jim Carrey put it). She wanted to give love while she could. I wanted to save us from the pain. She wanted to be a light. I wanted to shut the door, and remain in the dark. She wanted to help. I wanted to not hurt.

I’m not bashing anyone, well almost no one. Not the parents that placed the ad, not anyone else that would think like I did. People have a myriad of reasons for not wanting to be in that situation, and I’m not privy to understanding any of those reasons. I just know that I have new eyes now. How hard is it to love a child, giving and receiving from a baby, that you know is not going to be with you for long? Hard. Incredibly so. Knowing every time you hold him/her that you might have to say goodbye tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after…

Kind of sounds like something Jesus would do.

And I find myself lacking again.


2 thoughts on “The Dead Next Door

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