Sebu. I’m not 100% sure that’s how you spell her name, but it’s close.
In every country, I’ve found a child that I gravitate to. Typically, it’s the child I see the first day of ministry and I mention to a teammate that that’s gonna be my kid. I don’t know if it’s a Holy Spirit thing, like that’s the child God has on His heart for me, or just that there’s something about them that immediately draws me to them. And every country, that goodbye is the one that hurts my heart the most. And I’m terrified for this one.
Sebu is shy, and it took her a few days to warm up to me and then remember me every day, but now she runs up to me and immediately grabs my hand. When another team picks us up at the carepoint, she’ll stay to the back, but she’ll come to the front to hug me four times before I leave. And one day, she came to the carepoint with all her curls picked out, and when all the kids commented about it, she would blush and look at her feet, while running her hands through her hair.
Even though she doesn’t talk too much, she has the sweetest voice. She likes talking when I squeeze her cheeks because it makes a funny sound, and she likes copying me and learning english. And her giggle is contagious, she’s extremely ticklish on the bottom half of her stomach.
She has the most fun jumping off the tires onto me and swinging. She’ll tell me “turn around” and giggle for seconds even after we’re done. She also really likes laying upside-down on my lap as long as she can. Sometimes she’ll make me climb the playground equipment with her on my back, I really get my workout with her, and every day I help her climb up the fire pole, which is really just me lifting her as high as I can while she holds on.
It took her a while to warm up to the baby chicks and when I hold them, but when I gave it to her the last time, she immediately posed with a duckface and peace sign. She loves taking selfies on my phone, she knows how to get all the good angles. She takes my phone every day and takes pictures of me, telling me how to pose. The other day, she discovered panorama, and belly laughed when she saw how my face turned out.
Sebu breaks my heart. Everyday, she shows up in clothes that don’t fit her; shirts that show her malnourished stomach that gets one meal a day of rice and beans from the carepoint, a dress that she’s constantly pulling down because it shows her underwear, and shoes that could probably fit me because she gets them big so she can grow into them. She’s hard at first, and it takes a little to break her, but she’s so desperate to be loved. She’s so desperate to have someone just hug and her and let her fall asleep on them. She just wants someone to play with her and show her that she’s seen and so valued.
I’ve spent six days at the carepoint so far, and I can already tell she’ll be my hardest goodbye.
