“Would you care for one more baby?” I asked my wife one morning. “Baby?! What baby are you talking about?” “There is a baby in Lapangon Mission School who is, just like our boys, an orphan. His mother died three days after giving birth to him. The father poisoned himself to join his wife. That is typical for MANOBOS who believe in ‘life in the other world’ shortly after death. The Chief of the village is the grandfather of the baby and so loved the boy that he planned to kill the innocent tyke with the belief that he will be united with his parents and live a happy family in that ‘other world’. It was good that the SULADS missionaries were able to convince the Chief that they should rush the baby to the hospital. He was so sick, dehydrated, malnourished, skin and bones, and covered with scabies just like our Shad when he was given to us by his father.” My wife was silent for some time. I did not insist on an answer. I knew that she was thinking deeply if she was really ready for a fifth boy. I could see her recalling back the days seven years ago when we started the SULADS program. These four orphan boys were left to our care by the late chief of Migtulod Mission School. It was a situation that we can never say “no” to. We just couldn’t close our door to providing a home for them. I could still remember during that first year when the older boys, who were used to wearing rags, with nails so long, and unwashed, became her headache. They were fresh from the forest and they were used to climbing any tree they could find. Reaching MVC, where faculty homes are separated by boundaries, these boys would climb any tree and harvest fruits. There was even one time when they were caught by the student guards swimming in the reservoir. We got embarrassed many times with these fellows. One time we lost our patience and decided to send them home to their village. That was one of the most trying moments of our lives as special parents to these special children. We regretted later that we made that cruel move to send them home. We were relieved and glad, too, when the boys came to our door one early morning with their few belongings wrapped in a ball inside a plastic bag pleading. “Please forgive us. We promise to be good this time. Please give us one more chance.” It’s not a joke to stand as parents to these children—not bone of our bones, neither flesh of our flesh—to train them in the ways that we want them to follow. We had to undo the traits they had learned from their culture and that takes a longer time than to teach them new ones. Their financial needs are a bigger challenge. To clothe them, feed them, and educate them is expensive. Thus, to be special parents to these special children requires commitment, love, understanding, and patience. Should we have not been patient with them, we could have been the next patients in the hospital! Now considering this new baby Dave, his would be another mouth to feed. Powdered infant milk is so expensive these days! How can we ever make both ends meet? I could hear her questions from her wrinkled eyebrows. “I’m busy,” she said. “You well know that I’m out everyday for work. I don’t have time for another baby,” she explained. “I understand you, Darling,” I hugged her. “I promise not to bother you with this new baby,” I said. But in myself I was thinking of Jesus of long ago in Bethlehem who was born in the lowliest situation, the poorest of the poor, in the place of the animals, in a stall on itchy brown hay. He was rejected. No innkeeper took him in. This Dave was born on a hard bamboo floor beside a dirty rag where a dog curls in the night. No midwife attended to them. It was just he and his mother. Now the mother was gone and the father too. Dave has no parents to go home to, save his grandparents. But can I afford to see little Dave go home and join the dog and share a rag? Can I afford to see him fed by his grandmother munching sweet potato flavored with betel nut and give it to little Dave when he needs milk? I could see Baby Jesus in Dave. “Lord,” I prayed. “Please touch my wife to open her heart for ONE MORE.” "Darl, do you want to just take a look at the baby? He’s just so cute,” I convinced. “Yes. Sure. I’d love to.” We visited little Dave in the hospital and her heart just melted. “I want to keep little Dave,” she said as she wiped a tear away. “Thank you, LORD,” I whispered. We took little Dave home. Now we can have baby Jesus, in little Dave, brighten our home with LOVE this CHRISTMAS.

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