Part of our ministry for the month was visiting the slums and doing children’s ministry. What I didn’t know was that this children’s ministry would be unlike any other we’ve done on the race thus far.
We get there and all the little kids- lice infested and naked- come running up to you. And surprise, before you know it, they are somehow on your back climbing onto your shoulders while another is yanking at your shirt while another is holding your hand and yet another is trying to jump on you as well. Chaos. And Iloved every minute of it. As we drove away that day, I couldn’t wait to go back.
Two days later we arrived back and a little boy in a jean skirt comes up to me. I begin to play with him.We leave and I looked back thinking this is what my heart is made for. I never wanted to hold back with these kids.
This is why I’m called into social work. Disadvantaged kids who just need love.
A few days later we head back and business is as usual. Feed. Bath. Play. Leave. Except the same little boy from before found me again.
I’m falling in love and to my surprise I can’t wait to go back to the slums.
A few days later, I’m back. The same little boy came running to me. I pick him up and feel welts on his back and arms. Our contacts quickly ask him what happened. I was anxious for his reply hoping it wouldn’t be what I was thinking it was. I eventually looked at our contacts and asked what he said. “His dad beat him.” It was no big deal. He said it with no weight and they translated it with no weight. But those words hit me hard. They stung the deepest part of my soul.
My plan was never to fall in love with a child at this slum. I didn’t even think I would like it. But before I even realized it, God was connecting me with a little boy who needed love. Every time I was there, I was with the same boy.
The same boy whose dad beats him. The same boy who sometimes doesn’t have pants on. The same boy who runs as fast as he can to get his bowl so he can eat something that day. The same boy every time.
My relationship with him was unlike any other relationship with a child on the race. It was motherly. I would hold him and play with him til he needed down for whatever reason. I would put him down always knowing that he would come find me again later. And he always did. Even on our last day there he left on a moto for a few minutes right before we were leaving. He got back just as we were saying goodbye. I watched him as he jumped off the moto, ran under a house and right back into my arms. I never questioned if he was coming back, I always knew he would. I would snuggle him and give him kisses. But most importantly, I would tell him about a father in heaven who loves him even more than I do. I would pray over him and sing over him.
(After bath time snuggles)
I love this little boy. And I pray that he knows the love of a heavenly father that surpasses all the love I showed him.
His name is Mouse. Pray for him.
