My team and I walk into the commuity of Floresta to be greeted by the squeals and shouts of excited children. “Buenos dias! Tienes jugar!?” (Hi! Do you want to play!?) they shout. Although their faces communicate joy, my hearts sinks because I suddenly feel…heavy. Some place in my soul is screaming that something here is not right. These kids are sick. Mind, body, and soul. Their eyes are sunken in from parasites. Bruises and scars cover their tiny bodies. Dirt covers their torn clothes. Alcoholism and domestic violence is common in these communities. Some of the kids hide behind buildings. “Tienes miedo,” (they’re afraid) a girl responds when I ask why they are hiding. The catholic church has told their families that evangelists steal children and encourage debaucherous life styles.
So much hurt. So much God wants to redeem. I can’t help but feel helpless as I hold their hands and smile, trying to use my little bit of Spanish to learn about them. I say a prayer for each kid I talk to, or sit by, or hold hands with. They have fun playing games and running around but it’s obvious they really delight in the attention they are receiving. One little boy takes my arm and puts it around him.
I see a little girl about ten years old trying to play with the others but she can’t really because she’s holding a 
screaming baby. I offer to hold him so she can play tag with the other children. She responds enthusiastically, almost throwing her little brother at me. He’s crying hysterically but has soon as I hold him close to me he lays his head on my shoulder and falls asleep. He’s filthy, has a terrible cough, and smells awful but I cuddle him close and pray over him and for his sister who shouldn’t have to shoulder the responsibility of caring for an infant.
After a couple hours we leave the kids to head home for dinner. I wonder about the difference I’ve made here. We’ve offered these kids a couple hours to just be kids. To play and run and laugh. We’ve spoken encouragement and life over them, told them their lives have purpose. We’ve told them that God has promises for them. And that these promises aren’t dependant on them or who they are, but on who God is, so that means He’ll never break them. Maybe they don’t understand now, but I pray something in their soul holds onto and remembers these promises.
I’m thankful for our contacts here who will continue to pour into these children and their community even after we’ve left. They are incredible people who show me what it means to live for Jesus every single day, not just when it’s convenient. What a blessing to be involved in they ways they are bringing God’s Kingdom here.
