While in the Philippines, part of our ministry was a weekend camp for street boys. This camp only takes place every other weekend, and we got to experience it twice in our time with Grow International Ministries.
I will be honest and say that I was not excited about this when they first told us about it. You may be thinking that is super silly because the majority of mission trips involve working with kids. Yes, I know this. And I knew this when I signed up for the World Race.
It is often a misconception with people that I don’t like kids. That statement is entirely false. Rather, I grew up as an only child with parents whose friends who mostly had older kids or no kids at all. Almost all of my friends growing up, with the exception of a few, were older than me and only a handful of them had younger siblings. Thus, I simply have no idea what to do with children, how to talk to them or just interact in general. I have always been pretty timid in this area and definitely self-conscious when in the presence of toddlers and young children. I am used to having adult conversations and so naturally, finding out that my ministry would require focus on interacting with children made me super nervous.
The first weekend that the boys came, I stayed at the camp to help prepare dinner while about 5-6 teammates went 2 hours into Metro Manila to pick up the boys with our host, Rhayan. When they arrived, I was flooded with anxiety because these boys were hyper, excited, and covered in soot and dirt from living on the streets. I was uncomfortable with the idea that they were dirty and several of them had head lice. At the same time, I knew that neither of these things were deadly and reminded myself that this was only the beginning of my encounter with children throughout the year.
I decided that the best way to ease into things was to sit on the steps and watch the kids run around, playing soccer with several of my teammates and smile at them when they walked by or wanted to give me a high five. I kept to myself for the most part, and was intentional to help with meals since our food preparation spiked with 20 extra mouths to feed. The second day, we took them up to the top of the mountain and sang a few songs and let Emil, Ehman and Noy share a devotional in Tagalog. Even though I was clueless as to what scripture they were reading and what lesson they were teaching, the Lord started to open my eyes to His love for each of the boys. I watched them all, age 9-18, as they listened intently, some goofing off and laughing, and huddled close together as the cool mountain morning gave them goosebumps. Most of them spoke very little English.
I remembered in that moment a word that a friend gave me right before I left and she said that she saw a picture of me holding many small hands. She assured me that this may seem obvious because a lot of our ministry would be with orphans and street children, but said that the Lord was showing her that He was going to open up a new area of my heart for children that I never knew existed.
The final day of the first camp, I started to see the truth in this as the boys prepared to leave to go back to Cubao in Metro Manila. As our host and teammates left to pile into the jeepney to take them home, a few of the ones I casually smiled at and briefly talked to came to me one after one to give me hugs and tell me goodbye. Two of those boys were Christian and Alvin.
Christian was one of the boys who, on the first night, sat by me at dinner and during the movie and told me I was beautiful. He was a very rambunctious boy who clearly sought attention at any opportunity he got and tested the boundaries for authority when given instructions. I could relate to him because I was a kid much like him. I sought attention from friends and teachers and anyone that would affirm me because I was insecure in who I was.
Alvin was one of the boys who I had not really talked to or interacted with much all weekend, but was the first one to hug me and say, “I will miss you.”
My heart broke.
A tear welled up in my eye as I suddenly felt a flood of emotions flow through my heart. Sadness. Love. Compassion. Already missing them and they hadn’t even left my sight yet.
Once they all disappeared up the stairs to the jeepney, I wiped my face and went back to my usual day. I told myself that they were gone and there was nothing I could do about it.
Fast forward two weeks, to our last weekend in San Mateo. I was under the impression that there would be a different set of boys coming to camp because they were part of a different street gang that did not get along with several of the boys from the first camp. So when I heard the voices of the boys from the kitchen where I was again helping to prepare dinner, I had the expectation that I would not recognize any of them. I walked out to the patio and saw so many new faces, but then a few appeared to be familiar. Before I could even realize what was happening, I saw Alvin’s face in a blur and the next thing I knew, his arms were wrapped around me and as I looked down and smiled, he said, “I missed you!” My heart melted.
I saw Christian also, but he would not acknowledge me or say hello. He seemed a lot more angry and disconnected than the first time he came to camp. As per usual, the kids ran to the field to play soccer, full of life and energy. Again, I did my best to be present and connect with them, watching them play soccer and giving smiles, hugs and high fives as they passed by. Throughout the weekend, Alvin would always make eye contact with me, smile, come and give me a hug, or grab my hand to sit with him to play a game, during dinner or movie time. Each time he showed me love, I felt a layer of my heart fall off and feel the love he was pouring out to me.
I came into camp thinking I could make a difference and be what they needed, but it seemed that God had different plans in mind by putting Alvin in my path. The second day of camp, he gave me a raggedy shoe lace that was tied on his ankle and told me to wear it so I could remember him and called me sister. I felt so special that I wore the dirty, fraying piece of thread proudly on my wrist. Later that afternoon, he found a necklace with a music note laying around and insisted that I wear it. The clasp was broken and so he found a piece of thread and tied it around the strings to make them clasp. I sealed them with super glue and called it good. I have since let go of the shoe lace, but wear the necklace and daily look at it and think of his sweet face. I wanted to give him something to replace his bracelet to also remind him of me while I was gone, so I made him a blue, red and green bracelet with the thread I brought with me.
On the final day of camp, Saturday, we took the boys to the river before taking them back home. I had already decided that this weekend I was going to go both to the river and to Cubao to take them home, as I had not gone the first weekend. Plus, Alvin asked me to go with him. After a very steep and rocky ride in the jeepney, we had to walk about 10 minutes through some rocks and grass to get to the part of the river where we could get in and swim around. Through the slippery rocks, Alvin held my hand and insisted that I go ahead of him so he could watch me if I fell. I felt super awkward at first because I am about 4 times his size, but since he insisted, I went first.
He played in the river with the other boys and eventually lured me out into the water from the banks where I comfortably planned to stay. I let him have time with his friends and when it was time to go, we walked back to the jeepney together. Again, he held my hand and made me walk first when we crossed the slippery walks. As we walked together, hand in hand, I asked him if he had fun and he said, “I am very happy today.”
My heart sank.
I knew more and more as the moments passed that this was going to be a very emotional goodbye. Not only because I was having to take him back to Cubao where I had no idea where he slept, but also because I knew that the following day I would leave for Thailand and likely never see him again.
We drove the first half of the way to Cubao and Alvin sat on my lap. It was quite squished fitting 20 boys and 6 adults in a jeepney. He is pretty tall, so his poor little legs were cramped. When we made a stop about halfway through, he decided to sit on the floor and all of a sudden Christian jumped on my lap.
Remember how I said that Christian had really paid no attention to me at all during this second camp? Well, I don’t know what changed his mind, but he sat on my lap and would not budge.
My heart sank again.
I smiled at Alvin when he would make eye contact and he eventually fell asleep. Partially for comfort, but also knowing that in about an hour I would have to say my final goodbye, I wrapped my arms around Christian’s stomach as he laid back against my shoulder. He quickly wrapped his arms over mine and held them tightly.
During the first camp, I was so worried about getting dirty or the possibility of getting head lice. At this point, head lice was the least of my worries. I could have cared less if I got them because these boys had become like my little brothers.
The final 15 minutes of our jeepney ride were the hardest. As several of the boys started waking up and talking loud in Tagalog, their native language, I realized we were getting close to the area of Cubao where we would drop them off. I found myself squeezing my arms tight around Christian, tears welling up in my eyes and praying so hard that I could feel my throat closing up, as it does when a hard cry is coming.
I prayed that God would protect him and Alvin and keep them safe. I prayed that they would know the love of Jesus through me and the time they spent at our camps. I prayed that whatever was making Christian more angry and hurt would stop. I prayed that God would continue to send people to love on him and soften his heart. I prayed that if he wasn’t getting the love he needed from family or people on the streets that God would rescue him and give him a healthy home. I prayed similar prayers over Alvin and the other boys who had clearly captured my heart.
As soon as the bus stopped, 20 boys flew off of the bus and my heart felt like chaos. I was frantically trying to find Alvin and Christian to say goodbye with a final hug. I was the last one out of the jeepney and quickly walked over to the sidewalk. Thankfully, each of them had waited on the side and gave me hugs. I had my sunglasses on and my eyes were flooded with tears. I hugged them tight several times and told them goodbye. I told them to be safe and keep coming back to camps. Alvin kissed me and ran off as I felt my heart break more.
Christian timidly stood at the edge of the curb, looking around as if he was torn about going back to wherever he stayed. My group had already started walking away and I ran over to Christian to say goodbye and squeeze him one more time. I whispered, “Mahal kita,” in his ear which means “I love you” in Tagalog. He needed to know that I loved him and cared for him. That someone loved him. That he wasn’t alone. As I walked away to catch up with my teammates, it hit me hard. My heart felt shattered in pieces as all the tears possible flooded my eyes and fell like waterfalls down my cheeks. Two of the girls with me grabbed my hands and let me cry. It was what I would call an ugly cry. I couldn’t control it. I felt like someone had just taken my children away from me.
I was so mad at the Lord for a moment and just screamed in my head, “Why are you doing this to me? This hurts so much! I don’t want to feel this pain!” I was finally starting to get a glimpse into His heart for His children.
The 2 hour ride back home was so long. I felt exhausted because of all the emotions I had experienced over the past several hours of the day. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, or smile, or act happy because I was heartbroken. I went up to our balcony and laid in my hammock and cried for a good hour before falling asleep.
Needless to say, heartbreak will come. When we open our hearts to love people, we risk them getting broken. When we let our walls down, we leave room to feel all the joy and pain that comes with people coming and leaving. In the same breath though, I wouldn’t change it for the world. I would rather feel the ups and downs than keeping my walls up and my heart hardened and unable to love others.
God asks us to open up our hearts to feel His love. To feel His joy. To feel His pain. To feel His anger. To experience His unrelenting pursuit of His children.
This is only the beginning of my experience with street kids, orphans and the children all over the world who are disregarded, neglected and mistreated. I will never be fully ready to experience all of the emotions I came to know from Alvin and Christian again, but I trust the Lord with my heart.
I trust that He will comfort me when I am letting go and saying goodbye. I trust that each month when we move on to the next country, He will give me peace that everything has a purpose. Every encounter, every hug, and every conversation. It is all part of His master plan. I may be the first or the one-hundredth person to show a child love, but each person plays a role in the big picture. It is my job to be open and ready to be obedient to follow each path set before me and He will do the rest.
Alvin & Me before the river
Christian & Me at camp
