It’s hard to determine what kind of homes these children
come from. Whether they are abused, or loved. We are working in the slums this
month, and all of the children have such strong personalities. Today, a young
girl walked up to me, holding a baby. I asked the girl how old she was. She
responded with a sense of maturity and confidence, while informing me that she
was 16 years old. I commented on how adorable the baby was, and asked if he was
her little brother, only to find out that this girl had been married at age 11,
and this baby was her child.
The children that we play with here are always so happy, and
joyful despite the fact that they don’t have toys, or a frequent change of
clean clothes for the next day. It doesn’t even phase them. They are so happy
with so little, because they don’t know anything different. They have no idea
that in America, most kids have overflowing closets of toys, or that the expense
of an X Box could pay for a years worth of food for their entire family. But that’s
what I find beautiful about them. They don’t need to know. They are alive, and
they are happy.
We are here to love them. I hope that when we teach them
about God, they won’t forget it. It’s frustrating, because I like to feel a
sense of accomplishment, but in this case I can’t. I won’t be able to see how
these kids turn out when they grow up, or if what I’ve been doing here is
effective, but I do feel comfort in knowing that they have had the opportunity
to hear the good news, and receive our love; Gods love.
