Control; It’s an idea and pursuit that the American culture holds dear. But when even a step is taken onto the mission field (even if it is on our own soil), that illusion dissipates and we are left with the truth that nothing is certain.

Bring Me Hope runs summer camps for orphans in China. But what happens when the Chinese Civil Affair Administration has told ALL the orphanages in the country that the children are not allowed to attend outside activities because of the Swine Flu (H1N1 virus)? And what do we do when a camp location looks like it might fall through?

“I don’t feel like this means that we should just give up,” David Bolt wrote to all the summer volunteers. “There are still lots of children that can benefit from summer camp,” he encouraged them.

Alternative plans include having camp for children in foster homes, on the streets, and whose parents are in jail. But the Bring Me Hope team doesn’t have to look too far back to remember how God brought just the right children into their path last year.

“We had been asking God all year to send us to the neediest orphans in China, and he took us right to them when our Beijing camp site unexpectedly was shut down,” Kristen Chase remembers.

“Everything seemed to be in complete chaos when the team relocated to another city, but in retrospect, we see that God was sending us to orphans who were in more desperate and dire situations than where we had planned to be,” she said.

So while some camp details remain uncertain, the Bring Me Hope team presses forward in faith.

“We are in a situation right now where we have to either give up or trust God that things will come together last minute, and that He will do a miracle,” David Bolt said. “And one week before we leave for China, things are falling into place,” he added.

Encouraging news came recently from Tim Hedden, the camp director in Kunming, explaining the opportunity to care for children found in bad home and family situations and who are on the verge of becoming orphans. Also, we just got news that a wonderful camp location that was in question came through!

“I’m really excited about this summer,” David encouraged the volunteers going to China. “Even though there are a lot of hard things happening, I REALLY trust that God is going to work it all together for good, and it will be much better than I could have ever planned,” he said.

Please be praying for everyone involved with Bring Me Hope this summer. We are after whatever God has for us, so please pray for willing hearts and His guidance! Thank you so much!

For more information: info@bringmehope.org

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Difficult to not feel ashamed.

That’s the painful part of what goes through your mind as you watch the vans pull away. Not shame for what you have—who you have—but for what you have never done, or have not done enough of. My 25 years have been spent in the lush splendor that is the American lifestyle, and the orphans are riding a bus back to the relative loneliness inside of them. For a week, they have lived outside of that ache, warmed by the touch and smiles of Chinese and American volunteers committed to loving them at any cost. But a week, what is it, when I will spend the next fifty between the comfortable lines I have drawn for myself at home? What have I done? As the months stretch out into next year, then the next, will a week matter?

This morning, during breakfast, I pulled out my journal and wrote what I saw as I watched the hard shell of my most difficult child, Jake, melt and fall away.

“We’re eating our last meal together. John just told me he will always remember me. Jake looked sad; he was not talkative, as usual. I asked my translator if Jake was sad, and he said he didn’t think so. But, as we both watched the small boy slowly eat his food, we saw a lone teardrop roll to the tip of his nose.”

It is in such moments when your own grief surfaces.

But then again, you know.

You know a week is a week—no more, but also no less. Five days of joy Jake would not have had otherwise.

You know it means more to the kids than you can understand. Because they said so. Looked you in the eye and said the words in beautiful, tonal Mandarin: “I will never forget you.”

You know it is right. You know you have obeyed the One who sent you here in the first place, if only for two weeks.

And you hope that they have seen a fingerprint on you that they will recognize on someone else years from now—something intangible, yet unmistakable.

All these things swirl around for a mixture of emotions, bitter and sweet—the bitter more instructive, the sweet like little tastes of heaven.

As Jake wept inside the van, my palm pressed to his cheek, I thought, “How could I not come back next year?” I sense a feeling of accomplishment, but also that what I have done is not nearly enough.

Bringing the orphans hope has become a lifelong calling, even if I can only answer for a few weeks every year.

They are the weeks I will cherish the most.

On Tuesday, we visited a royal park in Beijing. The rain that had threatened all morning became a reality, dampening what would have been a glorious afternoon of walking and enjoying the sights. My family group had only one umbrella among the four of us. It was a wet experience.

My translator purchased several lotus flower centers, as they contain edible seeds. We peeled them on the bus back and my buddy, Lily, started to break apart the stem. Inside, translucent fibers kept the parts together. My translator explained to us that the action was significant. The lotus stem symbolizes something broken, yet still connected.

Lily continued to break the stem and finger the threads. As I watched her, I wondered if the symbolism meant something to her. Does she feel a mental or emotional connection to her parents? They are not only responsible for her existence, but also for the growing up process. A child’s need for love and affirmation does not disappear simply because her parents do.

The fibers of the stem reminded me of a spider web. It may be nearly invisible, but it’s strong and sticky and doesn’t go away. The idea the plant represents—being separated but still attached—applies to all of us, really. There is an eternal thread that connects us to Someone Else. Physically, we are not all orphans, but spiritually, we are. I am thankful for that adoption, open to everyone, which can make us whole again.

— Patti Diaz