Dear Diary,
Oftentimes, what seems a mystery in childhood becomes crystal clear later in life.
I learned over the years that the orphanage wasn’t such a wonderful place. One counselor asked why my parents would let me play with kids who likely had attachment disorder or had suffered abuse. I had no answer for her.
Remember in an earlier post about the orphanage that I wanted to tell you about a woman named Alta Black?
Alta was at least twelve years older than me. She was one of those children who we would say “aged out of the system.” No one wanted her, so my grandmother let her stay as a housekeeper.
Alta didn’t have a place to sleep. Just a roll away bed in the hallway. Her sobs often woke up the younger children in the adjoining bedrooms.
Why was Alta sobbing? Was she thinking about the family she lost? Was she feeling forgotten because no one chose her for adoption? Was she feeling like she didn’t belong because no one in the orphanage really related to her on a personal level?
Alta visited my parent’s home when she ran errands for Grandma. When she opened our front door, tears flowed like a tidal wave. My Dad chided her for showing such emotion. That’s another story.
I believe Alta felt that we were family to her. She could slip away from the horrors of the orphanage and experience, if only for a few minutes, that feeling of connection, of family.
It certainly is true that God sets the lonely in families.
I had a special love for Alta Black. Our orphan hearts connected on a level that only she and I could experience, beyond even that of family.
Just further proof to this adoptee that we need one another.
It certainly is true that God sets the lonely in families.
