Her eyes met mine and her chubby cheeks rose with a smile. Bouncing in her high chair with her little legs wiggling far from the floor, she flapped her arms like she was a bird trying to fly for the first time. She was perfect and I felt an urgency for the whole world to love her. But within the time our eyes met, I was hit with a thought, “Is she one of the girls who was found in a garbage bag?” I wanted her to have all the love in a world that seemed content in leaving her with none.
I could feel the tears forming. I blinked them away. My eyes moved through the room at all the young faces and I wondered over their lives. They were taken care of for the moment. They were fed, they were cleaned, they were hugged. But there will come a moment when they realize where they are, and it hurts to imagine how that may twist their self-worth and identity. An orphanage, the land of lost boys and girls.
I look hard at the older kids, the ones I’ve been serving with in the warehouse, making jump ropes and book bags for the new school year. The ones who have likely missed their chance at adoption, who will likely stay here until they are of age. Then they will leave, left on their own. Completely alone. No parents to lean on if things get rough, no siblings to remind them they are loved when they mess up. What hope are they left with? How much worth do they see in themselves? Were they found in a dumpster, do they feel like trash? Were they left in the middle of the rice fields like unkempt harvest?
This wasn’t a hurt I would ever know or fully understand. It felt like my heart had turned to glass and each person who had abandoned their child held a steel pipe to shatter my heart to pieces.
Early in the day I walk through the grounds and see a little girl in a simple white dress. Her head turns in my direction with anticipation, her little bangs move with her. I hear glass shatter. How could someone abandon the opportunity to hug this girl every morning.
One of the girls run her fingers through my hair. She works confidently as she makes a braid. I hear glass shatter. Has she ever had a woman with the same hair as her’s comb through her strands and tell her she’s beautiful.
A little boy puts his hand out to me, offering some of his candy. A treat he bought himself at the snack stand. I hear glass shatter. He has so little. He is offering me so much. I want to offer him more than I can give.
I cried this morning, the tears came unexpectedly. I was overwhelmed with love for the fatherless as I began to pray aloud. But I could barely talk. I was helpless to form words. All I could say to my Good Good Father was that He knew what was in my glass heart. And I knew that the shattering love I felt was nothing compared to the love He felt for each child. And I was just going to trust Him with them. And I offered my Amen.
We are currently in the outskirts of Chiang Mai, Thailand, serving at Nikki’s Place Agape Home. This space serves children impacted by the spread of HIV/AIDS. Many of the children who stay here are, or at risk, of being HIV positive.
My days include working at the warehouse with the older children to make jump ropes and book bags for the new school year. It’s been a joy serving alongside them through manual labor and getting to know their stories. We also spend a few hours a day playing with them. I have never lost a game of Horse so far.
Please find out more about Agape Home at http://www.nikkisplace.org/
