Sundad Yeshua, the jubilant boy!
When I first arrived at Sarah’s Covenant Home an overwhelming sense of fear took over. This orphanage was unlike any other I had ever worked in. These children would not be entertained by the typical games I played in the past with orphans. I knew that I had to be creative I had to adapt. The children ranged in ages from 2 years to 16 years old and the scope of their disabilities was wide and intimidating. However, every child at Sarah’s Covenant Home had a common bond, they were abandoned and left for dead because of their disability. They lacked individual care and love, which meant my mission was simple, just go in and love.
Love, such a simple task but at the same time incredibly difficult to express. My immediate reaction to SCH was intimidation and a feeling of inadequacy. I walked into the young boys room and was hit by the severity of some of their disabilities. Most of the boys had cerebral palsy while others were blind, autistic, or cognitively disabled. All were disabilities I had seen but never truly worked with. While walking in I stopped to reassure myself that I could do it with a quote from We Bought A Zoo, “Sometimes all you need is 20 seconds of insane courage. Just 20 seconds of embarrassing bravery”. With that quote in mind I mustered up all the courage and bravery I had inside of me and dove into interacting with the boys.
As I went from bed to bed I played with the boys and tried to make them smile or laugh, with some it worked with others it didn’t. They were a tough crowd! Throughout this venture I kept hearing laughter and a very discreet sound of someone beat boxing but had no idea where it came from. So I began to glance around the room in hopes of finding the cheerful boy who was making music but he was no where to be found. Finally I asked one of the ayah’s (caretakers) where the sound was coming from and they pointed to underneath one of the beds. I then walked over to the bed and found a little boy rolling around smiling and making sounds with his hands and fingers. It was the beat boxer! I pulled him from underneath the bed and began to tickle him. His face lit up and he giggled uncontrollably. It was an instant bond. I loved this tiny boy.
The ayah’s told me his name was Sundad and that he was blind. While playing with him I also realized he was unable to speak or walk, his only movement was rolling and his only noise was laughter. Our interaction that first day sparked a desire in me to find out his story. So a few days later I went to the India Christian Ministries adoption office and found Sundad’s file. The filed stated that Sundad was abandoned at 4 months old on the side of the road. His lab reports indicated that he had diffuse cerebral atrophy and global development delay. In elementary terms his brain had shrunk and had caused his developmental process to slow down. However, whatever Sundad lacked physically he made up with his personality!
It is impossible for me to sufficiently describe the amount of joy Sundad carried. Throughout my time in India there was not a single day where he showed any emotion other than happiness. He embodied the bliss we all seek. He was inspirational. He couldn’t walk, speak, or see but he loved life and for that reason I loved him. I loved playing with him, holding him, and napping with him. I sang and he wiggled. He beat boxed and I danced, we were quite the dynamic duo.
It has been a little over a week since I last saw Sundad and I have to admit I miss the little guy. The simple interactions I had with him and all the boys from Sarah’s Covenant Home left a mark on my life. They ministered to me; they helped me through a very tough and dark month.
These little boys helped me recognize that ministry does not fit in a box. It is not one-dimensional. It is complex while at the same time extremely simple. Working with special needs children in the heat of India was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do but I am thankful I did it! I am thankful to have met boys like Sundad who by just smiling changed my view on life.
