On my last Monday in Nicaragua, we spent the afternoon putting on a children’s program for a group of kids in a neighborhood we visited. We all showed up to this dirt patch and invited all the people we could find. My group sang a couple songs, did a funny skit, and shared the gospel. After we finished the “scheduled” activities we just got to hang out with the community. That mostly looked like playing random games like Frisbee, Duck-Duck-Goose, soccer, and tag. Not many of us can speak Spanish, but play transcends languages. As is common in these situations, certain kiddos gravitate towards specific members of our squad. That afternoon I had a young seven year old girl attached to my side. She grabbed my hand and dragged me from game to game all the while speaking rapid fire Spanish that I couldn’t understand. She didn’t seem to mind that I could barely communicate and many times when she asked me a question what she got in response was a confused, panicked look. We spent the afternoon playing and both of us were very sad to say good-bye when our time together came to an end. Fast forward to our last day of ministry, Wednesday, when I found myself back in the same neighborhood for door-to-door evangelism. I made sure to look out for my friend from a couple days before, but I didn’t see her anywhere. Our time was quickly coming to an end and I was losing hope of ever seeing that sweet girl again. We came out of our last house of the day and found part of our group sitting in chairs off to the side of the road. One of the houses they had gone to happened to belong to a pastor. He took the opportunity to bust out his pulpit and began preaching to them. My group and I approached to listen and before I knew it, the little girl from Monday had dragged a chair over for me to use. I sat down and invited her to sit in my lap, which she quickly accepted. I still couldn’t speak Spanish and the pastor was still preaching, so I wasn’t able to say anything to her. I just started rubbing her back and playing with her hair. I found myself praying for this cutie and all the other kiddos we had met in Nicaragua.
Papa, I pray for the children here. I thank you for their playful spirits and their willingness to hang out with random strangers from other countries. Thank you for the hope that they bring to their families. I pray an abundant spirit over each and every one of them. I don’t want them to believe the lies that poverty tells them: that they aren’t worthy, that they can’t change their situation, that they don’t have any power, that they are less loved. You tell us that every person is offered the same power and there are blessings in store for every person. Help them to believe these truths. Father, give them the motivation to change their homes, communities, and country. Raise up a generation after your own heart! Give these young girls a sense of confidence and worth. Let them look to you for their fulfillment and not to men. Help them resist the patterns from past generations and break strongholds from their parents. Instill a desire to do your will alone in their hearts, so that they won’t stray from your love and plans. God, hold these children in the palm of your hand, protect them long after we leave, show them your immense love. I pray these things with faith that you will keep your promises. Amen.
Soon after I got done praying, the little girl jumped off my lap, waved good-bye over her shoulder, and disappeared down the road. I knew then that the Lord had brought her back to me exactly for that reason: to pray blessings over her. I trust that the Lord is reconciling the world to Himself and that includes caring for the people of Nicaragua, even when I am gone.
