Her Name Means Hope in Arabic(Judy Jones) Amal means 'hope' in Arabic. Amal was a tiny Muslim baby who was lying very near death in an orphanage in Bethlehem, Israel. Because she was born outside of wedlock she was considered a 'dirty' baby. The caretakers in the orphanage didn't like these babies, so they received very minimal care.

When the Director of the West Bank Social Welfare learned of our foster care experience in the U.S., she asked us if we would consider taking this sick baby and nursing her back to health. Several babies in this orphanage had died and they wanted to try to remedy the problem. We had adopted a baby in Jerusalem a few months prior and were excited to bring this second infant into our home.

When I went to the orphanage to pick her up, I was shocked by her appearance. Although she was two months old, she was the size of a new born. She looked like a skeleton with skin on. Her head was nearly bald from severe malnutrition, and she had a look of terror in her big dark eyes. I brought everything new to dress her in and when I changed her diaper, I noticed her little bottom was bleeding from the worst diaper rash I'd ever seen. I dressed her quickly. I couldn't wait to take her home and hold her close.

She had to be fed very carefully. At the orphanage her bottle was propped with a pillow, and for burping she was laid over a pillow at the foot of the bed. She would spit everything up and wouldn't be fed again for four more hours. She was literally starving.

It was such a thrill to watch her begin to blossom into a beautiful healthy baby! Her bald head became little black ringlets, her face soon had fat little cheeks, and her frightened eyes began to sparkle! We felt so privileged to have this precious person in our care. A strong bond was formed between her and every member of our family.

Whenever we took her out in public people would notice her and tell us how beautiful she was. We felt so proud of her, but there was, at the same time, a corner of our hearts that we held in reserve because we knew that no matter how much we loved her, the religious lines in adoption would not be crossed. There is Jewish, Muslim, and Christian and we knew that as Christians we would not be permitted to adopt a Muslim baby. This fact began to weigh very heavy on our hearts. Although we knew this from the beginning, we just could not imagine our life without her. We loved her so much!

She was starting to take her first steps and was calling us mama and dada. She shared a room with our daughter Christine and loved her so much. She also loved Stephen and Daniel, our two sons. We were her whole world.

After one year, the phone call that we dreaded finally came. The Director knew that Amal was now healthy and would need to be returned to the orphanage. Because she was registered as a Muslim and had no extended family, she would remain there until she turned eighteen. We desperately tried to find a way to adopt her but every effort failed, and the day came when we had to return her.

My friend Liz and I drove her from Jerusalem to Bethlehem and we were both sobbing all the way. The thought of handing her over to a stranger was so painful.

When Amal arrived at our home I had given her a patch work quilt that I had made. She quickly became attached to it and always slept with it. Through my tears I asked them to please keep it close to her and they assured me that they would.

As we left the building, we could hear her cries. She didn't understand why her mom handed her over to a stranger and was now walking away from her. It was the greatest heartache I had ever experienced. At that moment it truly felt like more than I could bear. I hurt for me and my family's loss, but I hurt more for Amal. I couldn't imagine what she was going through.

We brought her from death's door to life and health and knew that now all we could do was to entrust her into God's hands and release her. We didn't try to see her because we felt that it would be too traumatic for her. After four years in Israel we packed up our grief and left.

It was twelve years later that I had an opportunity to return to Israel for a visit. My friend Liz was still living in the country and we agreed to visit Amal's orphanage. She would now be thirteen years old. When we arrived at the office we saw a bulletin board with pictures of all of the children residing there and it was easy to spot Amal's picture. Liz and I were both in a heap crying as so many memories came rushing back.

The Director and his secretary were watching us and of course wondering what was going on. As I told them the story, they too were in tears. They had not known any of this but the Director said he always felt there was something different about Amal. He kept saying that she was an extraordinary child and very smart and ambitious. He said she excelled in everything she did such as academics, sports, etc... He said that because she was so ambitious they were sending her to a private school. This was unheard of for an orphan girl born outside of marriage. I knew it was a miracle. She was the only child in this large orphanage who was attending private school at that time.

I told them about the blanket that Amal brought with her and that I often wondered if she would still have it. The secretary picked up the phone and called Amal's house-mother and five minutes later she walked in with a neatly folded blanket. It was faded but totally intact. She told us that many times she told Amal that she needed to be done with it, but she would have none of it! The house-mom remembered when she arrived at the orphanage and said when she would take the blanket away to wash it, Amal would cry until it was returned to her. She said she clung to it. No one knew that she was clinging to memories of a family who had cherished her. No one at the orphanage was told anything about us. Later that day when Amal returned from school we were reunited. The word had gone out throughout the orphanage and so when we arrived, the whole orphan community greeted us. Of course Liz and I were crying our eyes out, but this time they were happy tears!

Amal was shy but also very excited. She didn't know that we existed and suddenly she's looking at pictures of herself with our family. She had never seen a picture of herself as a baby. She stared long and hard at them and it seemed that it was giving her a new sense of identity. I told her that I had made the blanket for her and she was very surprised. I asked her if she had ever wondered where the blanket came from and she shyly said "no, I only know I like it very much".

We spent the next few days together getting reacquainted. Amazingly, the orphanage allowed Amal to come to the U.S. for summer visits. She came for several summers, but then she began her college training.

Today Amal is a professional in her country. She travels with a medical team into villages, providing immunizations and medical treatment as they go. She speaks five languages. She has such a bright future!

As parents we invest so much time, energy, and love into our children. We walk along side them through each stage of their lives and in the end we see who they become. Parenting is like a garden. We plow it, plant the seeds, weed it, water it, and in the end we reap the fruit of it.

As foster parent's we've come to realize that our parenting is a sacrifice of love because we have only a small window of time to plant seeds and nurture them. Rarely do we get to experience the end results of our investment.

Amal was with us for just under a year. Why did she seem different from the other children? I have to believe that it was because she experienced love, nurturing, and a bond with a family during some formative months of her life.

We have fostered three hundred and fifty children in the past thirty years. The largest percentage of those were drug babies. We won't ever know how we've impacted each one but we do know how each one impacted us. Our lives have been so enriched because of each child that came to us on loan.

We are entering our retiring years and are no longer fostering. Our hope is that young families who have extra space and lots of love to give will take up where we have left off.

Amal means "hope" in Arabic.

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