Esperar

(From Tori)

On your mark get set go, “Dear Lord,” Gustavo prayed, “thank you for Hannah, thank you for Joshua, thank you for Hannah, thank you for Mama and Papa, thank you for Hannah. Amen.”

“And Tori,” my mom and sister simultaneously added.

“Thank you for Tori,” repeated Gustavo, “and Hannah.”

As eight-year old Gustavo learned more English, he expanded his vocabulary in his dinnertime prayers. “Dear Lord, thank you Papa hurt his back, thank you Tori drive me, thank you Mama make me food, thank you Joshua do homework, thank you Hannah likes me, and thank you for my family,” Gustavo said as he squeezed all the circulation out of my hand.

His “gracias por” turned into Spanglish sentences like “thank you por” and finally to “God bless”. With his new words “God bless”, he prayed, “God bless Mama and God bless me and God bless our bodies.” After a slight smile and chuckle from me, Gustavo added, “Thank you Tori laugh at me.”

For his GOTCHA day celebrations, he said, “I get to eat at MY Honduras restaurant.’’ 

It’s amazing to think that only nine months ago, this young boy that I now call my brother, who eagerly volunteers to pray at almost every meal in complete English, spoke only Spanish words with the exception of the words “one”, “three”, “five”, and “seven”.

In September of 2006, my highly energetic brother was born an orphan in the poor Central American country of Honduras. In that same month of the same year 1,528 miles away, the Kersey family decided to adopt a young boy from Honduras: Caleb Gustavo Enrique Kersey.

Have you ever lived without parents for six and half weeks? Think it would be fun to be free and have no restrictions? Well, I encourage you to think again. For that length of time my parents were in Honduras teaching, training, and loving my brother, Gustavo. I woke up every morning knowing that there was no mom or dad to say hello to or make me meals or remind me everything that I needed to do. During the longest time I was without parents, it was also the longest time my brother had parents, parents to call his own.

Because I had no earthly father to talk to during that time, I became dependent to call on my Heavenly Father in prayer and scripture reading. I have always prayed and trusted in him, but there has never been a time before that month where I have felt so much peace and guidance from Him.

The six weeks that my parents were gone to bring back Gustavo to my family could not even compare to the long wait of seven years to bring back a younger brother. In Spanish the word “esparar” means both “to wait” and “to hope”; I believe it is no accident that those words have the same Spanish translation. Whether my family was waiting seven years for our adoption to take place, or for my parents to come home, or for Christ to return I’ve learned there is hope in the waiting.

We helped Gustavo grow in height and weight, in knowledge, and in maturity. Through his adoption I also have grown in my love for Christ, my appreciation for my parents, and my hope for the future. We prayed for seven years for a boy that would make our family of six into a family of seven and now he’s praying for us. Even through the struggles of training a rambunctious child, I am reminded by the beautiful words Gustavo said in Spanglish, “Me no more orphano.”

Singing to songs on the radio is a favorite pastime for Gustavo.