Names have been changed to protect children’s privacy
June 22nd, 2011
It’s just past 11:00pm-the time that all the kids should be in bed. Tomorrow morning the children leave early for a day trip to the mountains, and tomorrow night we begin our trek to Ukraine. John has already gone to bed, our goodbyes to one another have been said. Matt is away at camp for the week and the two oldest boys are still on the computer. As I get ready to take her into her room and say goodnight, the realization is setting in that this is the last time I will see 12-year-old Sarah.
I haven’t said goodbye, our bags aren’t packed, we haven’t left the country, and already the “I should have’s” are running through my mind. I should have spent more time with her. I should have figured out the things she is passionate about sooner. I should have spent more time in prayer, fighting for her. I should have hugged her more.
I should have.
Sarah is one of the feistiest twelve year old girls I’ve ever met. The only girl in a house of boys, Sarah has developed quite the tough exterior. There is much about Sarah that still remains a mystery, but what I do know is this: at the children’s home, Sarah lives with four boys-two of which are her biological half-brothers. Sarah’s Mom is a prostitute who Sarah still is in contact with from time to time. Sarah smokes, gets into trouble in school, and can physically take on both boys and girls (she beat me in arm wrestling).
This is what most of the world sees when they look at Sarah, but when you take the time to look a little deeper, this is what you will see:
In some ways, Sarah is a lot like any other twelve year old girl. She has posters of Justin Bieber hanging up in her room and has quite the affinity for Hannah Montana dubbed over in Romanian. She sleeps with a stuffed monkey and has a baby doll sitting on her dresser. She used to do gymnastics and still has a love for tumbling and dancing. She plays the guitar and enjoys music. She is both athletic and intelligent. She is a talented artists who has notebooks filled with her drawings.
At first when you hug her, she makes a big fuss about it, but she melts once she’s in your embrace. She craves physical touch and affection. She wants attention and love. And despite the tough exterior, she delights in being called “princess.”
The sad truth is that there isn’t someone who is consistently there to tell her what a princess she truly is. There isn’t someone there to tell her how wonderful and talented and beautiful she is. She lives in a home that provides her all the tangible things she needs: hearty meals, a warm bed, clean clothes, a roof over her head, and a good school to go to. What she is missing, though, and what every child needs, is a consistent adult in her life to be there for her when she gets home from school. What she needs is someone who is there to encourage her, love her, discipline her, and show her the love God has for her. The home she is staying at is doing amazing things for children in this community and is doing their best to provide all they can for the five children at this home. And while there is an amazing teenage girl who has been giving her all and has been there to fill-in for that adult role for the past ten months, what they really need in addition to a big sister, is a permanent, loving adult to live at the home and provide the structure, love, support, and discipline each one of these children need.
As I walk into her room with her and tell her how much I love her, Sarah does something she rarely does: initiates a hug with me. She pulls me onto her bed and places her Seattle Seahawks hat on my head. When I try to give it back to her, Sarah tells me it is a gift for me. My eyes swell up with tears. My heart breaks for her a little more with each passing moment as I hug her and tell her how much I love her, how special she is, and that I have been and will continue to be praying for her. As I go to turn out the light she shouts out “wait!” As I turn to look at her, I see that she has crammed herself into the corner of her twin bed to make room for me to lay down. We lay there together for a few moments, putting off the inevitable goodbye-the goodbye that has taken place in her life more times than it ever should. Before I leave we go through her drawings once more and she lets me pick one and autographs it for me. I choose a drawing of a princess to always remember sweet Princess Sarah, though I know I will not need a picture to remember her. With one last embrace, last words of life and love spoken over her, and with one last tuck of the covers, I say goodnight and goodbye to Sarah.
My heart is heavy as I turn off the light and close the door, thanking God for the time He has given me with Sarah and praying for Him to bring someone consistent into her life who can show her what God’s abounding love is really like. It is my hope that you will join me in this prayer for Sarah and for all the children at this children’s home.
