Tonight we went to an event at my parents church where there was a children's choir performing.  I have never been to an event like this, and so I had absolutely no idea what it would be like.

The children were adorable and from Uganda, Nepal, and the Philippines.  They sang loudly and truly seemed to love God and enjoy their time on the stage.  In between songs they would either have someone from the organization, World Help, speak, or show a video of what life was like back in the child's home country.

Their goal was to get money and child sponsorships.  To ensure that the people in the audience would give and/or sponsor the videos were showcasing what a day might be like in a child's life previous to getting sponsored.  They were dirty.  No clean water.  Alone.  Working in the fields.

I was sitting next to Amos and I could literally sense his body clinching.  He was uncomfortable.  He felt awkward and I could sense that he really didn't even know what to do with what he was thinking and feeling.

He looked up at me and whispered “this is making me sad” as he fought back tears.  He sat super close to me and I could literally feel his heart racing.

You see Amos remembers life before Texas.  He saw those kids on that screen tonight and they looked familiar to him.  It's almost as though somewhere deep in his soul he sees himself in those kids faces.

I pulled him close and asked if he was okay and if he needed to leave.  He was tough and shook his head no.  I tried to choose my words carefully when he asked if those kids had parents.  Or when he asked if that baby was going to die.  I never want to lie to my kids about the atrocities of the world, but I don't want my son, Amos, who has lived those atrocities, to relive them any more than he already does.

As we stood to sing the final songs I held my son close and fought back my own tears.  For as we sang “How great is our God, How great is our God and all will see, How great is our God” I literally felt that greatness in that moment.  For as they showed pictures of kids that needed sponsorships because they had been abandoned or lost their parents, I stood their hugging my son and was so grateful to my GREAT GOD that because of his grace and mercy my son was standing next to me, and not on that screen needing a sponsor.  That God in his great big plan had placed him in my arms as my son.