*Note: we weren’t allowed to take cameras into the orphanage, which is why there are no pictures in this blog.
The orphanage was a place of broken bodies, broken minds and broken souls. I walked in and felt the compassion of the Lord…but something kept me from really loving the handicapped orphans with the love of Christ. Something in my ever-failing humanity blocked my heart from overflowing with love. I fed them and played with them. I sang songs to them and told them that Jesus loves them and spoke words of life and love over them. But something kept my heart from breaking with love for them.
The room is colorfully painted with cartoon characters, much like any nursery back in the States. Twenty or so beds are the residing places of handicapped orphans, physically or mentally or both. Many are probably victims of Agent Orange, the poison that the U.S. dumped all over Vietnam during the war in the 70s. It infiltrated entire water and plant systems, and its effects are still being borne out in deformed bodies and demented minds. And such children are unwanted burdens on their families, who struggle as it is to feed themselves, much less another mouth that can’t return work for the food.
One little boy, probably about 8 years old, grabbed my hand and just stood there. He wore a dirty pajama one-piece suit over some sort of heavy cloth diaper. I tried to look into his eyes but saw nothing there, absolutely nothing…just emptiness. I couldn’t hold his blank gaze. He screwed up his face and began crying, that painful sort of crying just on the verge of wailing, but he couldn’t express his pain enough to even get the wail out. He gripped my hand and wouldn’t let go; with my other hand I tried to rub his back as I whispered Jesus into him. But he just kept crying and crying…so I started singing “Jesus loves you” to him, softly, melodic, a tune he’d probably never heard before. It took a few times…but he stopped crying. He looked sideways out of his squinted eyes at me, and I may have imagined it, but I thought I saw a spark of something there…a spark more than emptiness. I kept singing and praying over this child…but the moment was gone; he averted his gaze and descended again into his almost-wailing cry of desperation. But there was nothing more I could do…
I gently pulled my hand out of his and went to the far corner of the room where a little girl lay spread-eagle on her bed, each hand and foot tied to the bedpost with rags. She had sores on her temples and her eyes rolled around wildly, making it impossible to look into them. Repeatedly she lifted her head and shoulders up, banging them back down on the mattress, again and again, banging and banging. When she paused for a minute tensed with her head and upper back raised above the mattress, I began rubbing her back as I whispered and sang Jesus into her. When she started banging her head again I started rubbing her arm and her stomach. For maybe ten minutes I persisted before moving on to another child…there were so many. So many to love…
One bright-eyed teenager lay on her bed with useless legs. When I came close she peered up at me through her one good eye, and I could see that this one at least was mentally present. I began speaking to her, and surprisingly she understood a little English. I found out her name and told her I loved her earrings and that she was beautiful and that Jesus loves her so much. I sat down next to her low bed, and before long three more kids were on top of me, in my lap and pulling on my hands and my feet, pulling my hair and hitting my back. She looked over and began telling me some of their names, too….but I wasn’t enough. After a mere ten minutes I was overwhelmed and relieved that it was time for my team to leave…
Going into the orphanage I had an idea of what it was going to be like. But actually being there, seeing the children’s broken bodies and minds and spirits, I was overwhelmed that there is so much need for love in the world. I knew I wasn’t enough and that our five or ten minutes with each child wasn’t enough. But the thing is… we’ll never be enough. Years after we leave this country there will still be broken bodies and spirits to tend to, and everywhere we go there will be more broken bodies, broken minds and broken spirits.
