Five of them sat at the cement picnic table underneath the makeshift onning just outside of the main room at the orphange. A young Thai lady and a middle-aged Thai man sat, wearing stern faces. The lady was well dressed and her face was made up perfectly, but through it, she was pale, ghostly even. They sat with the director of the orphanage and two little boys. One sat very seriously at the table, starring at his folded hands as if he were about to cry. He looked about eight or nine years old. Another boy, closer to five, perched underneath the table, played with a toy car silently. 

 

     Everyone steered clear of the area because the situation is not unfarmiliar to anyone here. It must happen every so often at that picnic table that is otherwise a centerpiece for joyous activities. I don't know the story. The couple is very young and maybe the money just isn't there, maybe she is going to go work on the streets of Bangkok or Chiang Mai. The fact of the matter is that papers were filled out and signed. That little boy, with his hands folded was just signed away indefinitely. Imagine that moment, when your mother decided that you just weren't worth it anymore. Or the one when you make the choice that your baby will be better off without you. 

 

     The truth is that if that boy has miraculously come to the top of the waiting list for a spot here at Sila Home, he will grow in an incredible, loving, disiplined, Christian environment that will set him up for success spiritually and through education. But I still stopped playing basketball with the kids for a minute and sat against the wall to consider the abandonment and heartbreak that was taking place only meters away.