I often fight cynicism, trying to replace it with optimism. After 20 years in the adoption world, particularly on the treacherous path I’ve chosen, that of the adoption of older children where the pains seem deeper but the rewards even greater, sometimes I encounter a story that knocks my socks right off my big feet.

There’s a couple, John and Libby Moritz, who lost their three young children in a car accident. They were coming home from school and instantly killed.

There are simply not enough words in the English language to adequately convey the emotional devastation to the parents. I won’t even try as I’m afraid I could not do justice.

The days and months that followed were ones of tears, and numbness, and questions. John and Libby survived the next ten months, though the personal and marital strain was at times overwhelming. John struggled through work in his swimming pool business. In between bouts of intense grief, Libby shopped for children’s toys and clothes. Together they fluctuated between wanting to die and wanting to understand and have purpose in living. The approaching holiday season brought a heightening of pain. Friends graciously offered them use of a home in the Caribbean.

Inexplicably, they gathered up the toys Libby had purchased and carried them along to the islands. Once there, the idea came to them to visit an orphanage for Christmas and give the toys to the children.

Later they visited Africa, opening up an orphanage, named after their three children and they also adopted a little girl from China who is now 11.

I saw an excellent article about them in this week’s People magazine. Inexplicably Jennifer Anniston’s love life is the cover story while these world-changers seem to be relegated to page 105 of the issue.

Isn’t that typical of our world? Not that we feel we are saints for adopting, for helping orphans, or for donating money, but honestly I struggle mightily here at home with my teenagers trying to balance the world and my own belief system.

We life in an affluent society, my children are surrounded at school by other students with apparently unlimited clothing allowances and everyone drives a better car that we do of course.

I’ve attempted to point out to my children that these other people only have a child or two to take care of, that we have 39 and our life is different.

Fortunately for me, these other kids often speak to my own kids enviously, “Man, I’ll bet y’all are never bored! That must be cool to have so many brothers and sisters,” to which my children usually grin in agreement.

We’ve been given so much in the way of opportunities, college scholarships, camp fees paid for us and rich folk’s hand-me-downs that are absolutely awesome and way better than we could ever afford to have purchased. I’m trying to teach my children to give back, to pay it forward whenever possible and to have a servant’s heart; always available to help someone.

I deeply admire this couple who’ve taken their devastatingly unimaginable grief and turned it into a mission, a purpose, and a reason to continue living when so many others, possibly myself included, might have simply turned into bitter dust.

These are the kind of people that deserve the cover stories of magazines but are also the kind of people that would probably be too humble to accept.