Amber and I walked down the street, on our way to church, just like every other day. We were on our way to the evening service, just like any other Sunday.
Except this was not to be like any other Sunday.
We were met by a scene that we were not expecting.
We were interrupted by life.
Real life.
We were awakened to a rude reality.
I don’t know if we first heard the cries and screams before we saw what was happening.
But what we saw, what will forever remain painfully etched in my memory, was this.
Three small children…they had been running up and down the sidewalk all day long. With their bike and huge dump trunk. Pulling their few precious toys by a rope.
They were so small. Blonde hair. The oldest couldn’t have been older than 3, and the youngest seemed too small to be walking yet. Two of the younger ones were not fully clothed.
They had been unattended all day, racing up and down the sidewalk, precariously close to fast moving vehicles…who somehow managed to dodged the pedestrians..but a small child? They would not see in time.
But what we saw in that moment and what we heard were the screams and terrified cries of the children as they were chased down the street by one of the workers of the shops we frequented. He was an adult, we had passed him often before, and something had always felt a little off about him.
But there he was…chasing those tiny children down the street…kicking their toys…kicking them…absolutely terrifying them.
I froze there, trying to take in what we were seeing. I was so in shock. I couldn’t believe what we were seeing. I didn’t know how to react.
We did not know what to do. I tried speaking to the shop owner, his boss, asking him to stop this man. I tried urgently to explain to him what was happening, pointing and saying, “this man…he is hurting the children…he is scaring them.” Only to be met with kind, but apologetic expressions accompanied by an “I’m sorry, I do not understand.”
I felt so helpless.
I don’t know if I have ever felt more helpless before than I did in that moment.
By the time I had finished and failed at getting the store owner’s help, by then the children had disappeared around the corner onto another street. The man who had chased them was walking back towards us, going back to work.
Amber and I didn’t know what else to do, so we decided to continue on to church. Maybe my friend, the ministry’s social worker, would be there, and we could ask her what to do about the situation. She found kids like that all of the time…surely she would know what to do.
We kept looking back for the children as we walked down the street, but they were no where to be seen. I couldn’t keep the tears from falling as the anger at what we had just seen happen faded…and the gravity of what we had just witnessed happened finally began to sink in.
As we walked, these questions raced through my head.
Why were the children unsupervised?
Why was no one caring for them?
How could no one care?
We arrived at church, but my social worker friend was no where to be found.
We continued into the sanctuary, but I could not shake those images of the children being chased and kicked down the street…I couldn’t stop hearing their terrified screams and cries echo in my ears.
Time stops for no one…not even to give someone time to process what had just happened. I found myself still sitting in my seat as the entire church rose together to join in songs of worship together.
Without me. I sat there, alone…tears streaming down my face.
The words caught in my throat as I tried to join in in worship…”how great Thou art.”
God, how could this happen? How is it happening? I know you are great. I don’t doubt that for a minute. I know you could have stopped it.
So why didn’t you?
I’ve worked with tons of at-risk kids before, tons. But I’ve never been actually seen them in their home environment. I’ve heard heart-wrenching stories of neglect and abuse, but never seen it with my own eyes.
Here I am, wanting to stop things like the abuse and neglect of children all around the world. But when I actually see it first hand for the first time…I am wrecked. And my heart has never hurt so much.
And we’re not even in India yet. This is only the beginning.
Is this what it feels like to have your heart break for someone?
Because if it is, I don’t know if my heart can take it.
But as I wrestle with these hard questions, the small ray of hope that fights through is that as much as my heart breaks for these precious children, God’s heart breaks even more. That is what I cling to…even as my heart breaks.
