My heart aches as I write this. I asked the Lord to break my heart this morning and broken it feels.
Walking into the village, approaching the home we were going to do yard work for the morning and there they were. The kids that I’ve seen come to the children’s program. The heart wrenching story I’ve heard. Parents left them. Abandoned. Father is nowhere to be found. Mother disappeared to Moscow. It’s been 3 months. She isn’t coming back. The orphanages are closed. They have no where to go. Alone. Fending for themselves.
I see the 2 year old washing clothes.
3 year old sweeping the dirty floors.
5 year old trying to be a kid.
7 year old washing the doors.
My heart shattered. I had to stop. I couldn’t walk passed them.
I run down the stairs with a teammate smiling and laughing screaming, "buna ze wa! hello!"
I start washing the clothes holding back the tears, thinking my little 2 year old neice doesn't even know what laundry is.
This isn't fair.
Trying to clean the house with joy. Folding the clothes covered in urine, wondering how anyone can ever leave them?
jus
It’s lunch time. I walk into the kitchen and all I can find is a box of rotten potatoes.
I'm reminded that this is what PURE religion is- caring for the orphans.
In the midst of it all I see….
Love.
Joy.
Hope.
I see Jesus.
God- you broke my heart. Not for an emotional experience. But to STOP and do something.
I have been given a responsibility. To care for the least of these.
