Elisha.

I've started this post many times, to tell you about the most hilarious and incredible boy on this entire subcontinent, in my humble and unbiased opinion. I don't know where to start.

I've tried starting from the beginning, how Bryon and I came to start sponsoring him. I tried to tell about how securely he has captured my heart as he has slowly come out of his shell over the past week. Words don't suffice for what I feel for this seven-year-old, it seems, so I will just have to understate the matter: I love him, and he is wonderful. Instead I want to share how I have seen myself become a well-intentioned hypocrite over a beautiful boy named Elisha.

Before I describe that, however, I'd like to make an unfair sweeping generalization (you know, while I'm at it and doing things I find unattractive in others). Americans have a savior complex. We have seen how wonderful and prosperous an industrialized, democratic society can be, and we have elected ourselves to positions of beneficent superiority, bent on rescuing others from the muck and grime of anything we perceive as oppression, injustice, or lack of the rights to education or McDonald's.

But really, (now I'll speak for myself alone) I feel that I have been indoctrinated to believe that what I have is "more" and anything else is "less." I believe it was no one's fault, really, that I didn't fully grasp the concept that "different" could be just as good.

Which brings me to the point of my Indian baby, Elisha. Bryon and I have both fallen in love with him, and have both, at times, expressed our desire to bring him home with us. When I intially arrived, I saw a boy, too small for his age, with severely-decayed teeth, wearing a dirty, faded Titanic shirt (complete with Leo and Kate) for the first three days we were there. He was a tiny, shy boy whose entirety of life possessions fit in a tackle box. With no parents, all he had was his younger brother. He had so little, and I wanted to give him everything I thought he needed.

As the week has gone on, though, I have had to come to terms with the idea that adopting a child like Elisha may not be what is best for him. Despite what I had initially thought, he has everything he needs and, I honestly believe, he wants: he has food, shelter, an education, friends, his brother...he's happy. And on top of that, this life--this country--is all he knows. Ripping him away from his only security, his quiet, simple way of life, and bringing him to a life of flush toilets, supermarkets, mandatory shoes, and mega-everything would be unfair at the least.

Instead of "fixing" all the sadness I see in the world, I've been learning here to appreciate the positives of a different life. I absolutely want what's best for Elisha, his brother Rajesh, and all the children, but I'm beginning to understand just how beautiful their lives already are, and how little help they might currently need. (To be honest, I'm a little jealous of how simple their lives are. You can wear the same clothes twice here!)

If, some day, he wants to go to America (or Germany, or Kenya, or wherever), I already know I'd want to help facilitate that. But for now, I recognize the fact that I need to put my selfish desire for his goodnight kisses and whole-body laughs aside to shift my focus to encouraging him to lead the life he wants for himself, whatever (and wherever) that may be.

I hope that is all coherent. We played some violent version of Red Rover today and I got my brain scrambled a little bit. So the Cliff Notes version is that this post could be titled "Elisha, The Boy I Want To Adopt and Hug Every Day" or "If It Ain't Broke, Don't Fix It."

Love you all so much.
Jessica!

(This is also the background on my phone. Just sayin'.)