Madly in love.

I am undeniably, insanely, passionately in love with the children I have yet to meet on this trip. With all my little brothers and sisters I have yet to hug, and snuggle, and spoil in the name of Jesus. To see their sparkling eyes…hear their little giggles…to imagine the crazy things they will do with my hair…I am filled with so much joy that I cannot put it into words…

I am brushing up on old bible school songs, picking out all of my favorite heroes of the bible, I am even growing out my hair so that some little sweetie somewhere can put it in the most messy, yet beautiful updo I have ever had the honor of wearing. My heart yearns to love on them…to be a big sister to the children with no siblings…to nurture the babies with no mommies or daddies…to give them the Good News that is Jesus and tell them how much they are loved, cherished, and valued. How they have a Heavenly Father who died for them…who loves them more passionately and fiercely than any human being ever could.

My heart hurts for their pain. Their growling tummies at night after a day of no food…their fear as they walk alone at night, trying to find a place to sleep…as they beg people to buy their flowers, stumbling along the red light district, unable to go home until every last petal has been sold…how sad that something as beautiful and delicate as a flower is forever associated with sex slavery, drugs, and abuse. How horrendous that people send children into the night to sell these delicate flowers…and how mind-blowingly, unexplainably, devastating is it that children are bought, sold, and used during a time that they should be guarded, treasured, and kept innocent. I feel protective over these children…these faceless, nameless, beautiful children.

I want to scoop them into my arms, shield them for as long as I can, cover their sweet ears from the harsh words of the world…cover their eyes and paint them images of toys, singing, and laughter…sing to them at night and battle the nightmares that plague their dreams…give them gobs of candy…sweet chocolate and peanut butter…I would even give them spoonfuls of my own Nutella…In fact, I plan on it. I long to listen to their stories…to be someone they can talk to without me trying to fix them…to just sit and listen to their brokeness…to their hurts…take the baggage that weighs on their sweet little shoulders and replace it with the warm, comforting blanket of Jesus' love. I want them to fall asleep in my lap…I want my arm to fall asleep while I rock them gently…and I refuse to move it so that for just one moment…they can feel safe…they can feel free…they can feel like a child who deserves to be loved on…taken care of…adored. So they can feel true peace. Hug, cry with, and snuggle a little one when they fall and get hurt, scoop them up and whisper soft, reassuring words into their ear, and cover their scrape with a magic Band-Aid, taking away the pain…replacing the tears with the sweetest little giggles. I cannot wait to listen to them and have no idea what they said! Love has no language barrier. If anything, I am already jealous of their adorable accents, and smiling as I picture them absorbing every word I speak, both of us fascinated of each syllable spoken.