I have 5 days remaining in Ecuador. On Friday N Squad will be traveling by bus to Trujillo, Peru to continue working with Inca Link. I'm excited and sad. Excited for what lies ahead. Sad to leave this place behind.
Yesterday was our last day working with the street children in Carapungo. Every Saturday, 20-30 of them flock to Anita's house to play games and experience the love of Christ. Anita is a 29 year-old mother of one—a 3 year-old boy named Sebastian. For 9 years, she's opened her home to these children in hopes that they will come to know Jesus. In hopes that they will be equipped to make good decisions on the streets.
Many of the kids and teens in Carapungo are taught to steal and do drugs. It's a vicious cycle set in motion by the enemy. And as I've stared into the faces of these beautiful children, I've been infuriated to the point of tears. The reality is—there is a war happening. A battle is raging for their souls, and for ours.
Paul told his disciple Timothy, who eventually becomes the head of the church in Ephesus, "But you, man of God, flee from all this and pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance and gentleness. Fight the good fight of the faith."
I love Paul's charge to Timothy here. It paints the picture of war. It makes my heart rage. It makes me realize that most of my concerns are truly "first-world." It makes me want to throw off everything that hinders and run this race. It makes me want to fight on the good side. It makes me want to stand for justice.
It makes me want to wrap my arms around these kids and never let go. These kids who, most likely, will never have the opportunity to exalt material possesions over Jesus. Education over Jesus. Career over Jesus. Beauty over Jesus. Family over Jesus. Marriage over Jesus. Reputation over Jesus. Self-worth over Jesus. Because Jesus is all they'll have. If He wins their souls, He'll be what drives them.
I fell in love with all of the children we met at Anita's house, but I nearly cry when I think about one girl in particular. Vivana is 8 years old. She carries the weight of the world in her eyes—something I didn't even notice until my teammate pointed it out during our 2nd visit.
Yesterday (3rd visit), I looked for Vivana all morning. She finally showed up about an hour after we arrived at Anita's. I squated down to say hello to her. Tears welled up in her eyes. At a loss for words, I patted her back, but she uncomfortably fijited and shrugged at my touch. Thoughts raced through my mind about what she was thinking. About what was happening to her. About what she deals with on a daily basis.
These are the times when I really hate not being able to speak Spanish.
Vivana eventually warmed up to me. She sat next to me as I painted some of the other girls' fingernails. She flipped through the pictures in my phone and asked questions about the places and people she saw. Donde es? Tus hermana? Nombre?
Before the kids left Anita's, Vivana asked me if we'd be back next week. Unfortunately, no. This is why I'm sad about Peru. But I have to trust that the Lord has her. That He has all of them.
I knelt so that I would be on Vivana's eye level. She gave me a huge hug goodbye. Fighting back my own tears, I said to her as clearly and firmly as I possibly could: Te amo. Es muy bonita. Si?
I pointed to her heart, and she replied. Si.
That may be the last time I'll ever see Vivana. But I'll always remember her. I'll always remember Ecuador.
Join me in praying for these people…for the enemy to be rebuked and for Lord to swoop in and steal the hearts of His children.
Ciao,
Julie
