Hey little girl,
It’s me Abigale. I’m writing to you because there are some things I want you to know. Did you know I fell in love with your smile from the first time I ever saw it? I remember noticing that you didn’t quite have a place in the group and that you stayed to yourself. You didn’t have much to say and you didn’t bombarde me with questions like everyone else did. But even so, I noticed you. I saw you. I knew you were something special. It took a few weeks before we actually got to meet. I sat down beside you and you slid closer to me, placing your arm around mine. It was the universal sign that I had just made a friend, but little did I know that within two short weeks you’d mean as much to me as you do now.
Little girl, you don’t know you’re beautiful. Trust me, you are. The most beautiful. Crafted and designed to perfection. Made in the image of the most high. Royalty. And truth be told, I don’t know if you will ever know it. They tell you lies. The other girls. They tell you that you’re dirty. That you’re not good enough. I try to tell you otherwise, but I know my voice is only one of many. I know how hard it is to hear and believe the whisper of truth in the roar of lies. But I pray every night that somehow you come to know just how special the Lord made you.
You don’t know how helpless it makes me feel every time I leave you at the squatter camp. I feel guilty when you and your younger brother come to church dirtier than the other kids. Or when you accidentally call me mom. My heart breaks when you look at me the way you do when I give attention to the other kids, patiently waiting for your turn to be loved. It pains me to know that the once a week I see you is probably the only day that week that anyone will place worth on your life. You don’t know this, but I day dream about being able to take you back to America with me. Wishing that there was a way. Somehow, someway that I could just take you and your brother with me. I wish so badly to give you the life you deserve. To restore to you the childhood that’s being robbed from you.
You don’t know you’re priceless. I know you’ve heard that Jesus died on the cross for you, but you don’t understand that He had you on His mind. He did it for you. He loved you that much and He still loves you that much. Did you know that you’re name is written in the palm of His hand? Did you know that every time you cry, so does He? Or that every hunger pain you’ve ever felt, He feels too? Every time you feel alone or forgotten, He is right there holding you and saying “Daughter, I’m here.”
You’ve been through so much in your nine years. You have a two year old brother that you take care of. Do you know that’s honorable? Do you know that by the time you’re my age you’ll realize that you were robbed of your childhood? That you’ll wish that you were given more than what you’ve come to understand as normal. You’ll wish that at nine all you had to worry about was what game to play next. Or will you? Because it’s your normal. I wonder if you’ll ever know what you deserve. I wonder if you’ll ever know your worth. I wonder if you’ll ever make it out of the squatter camp. I pray you do.
I pray for you and your brother every night. I pray you know the love of the Father. I pray that you know my love. I pray for your safety, for the people yet to come into your life, for your family, and for your future. Little girl you were made for so much more. God chose you to carry out a purpose that only you can do. How amazing is that? It was no accident that we met. That was part of God’s plan for both of our lives. For that I’m truly grateful.
Little girl, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I was born in America to a family who had every means to provide for me. I’m sorry that I never had to worry about where my next meal would come from or if I would even get to eat that day. I’m sorry that I got to have and enjoy my childhood. I’m sorry that I’ve had everything that you have lacked. I’m sorry that I cannot take you with me. I’m sorry that I cannot give you what you don’t have, You don’t know how much it hurts me to get in that car and leave you at the camp. You have no idea how bad my heart aches knowing that I’ll board a plane back to America and you will stay here. The good news is that there is a provider that can give you more than I could ever dream of giving you. He’s a Father who loves you more than any mortal man could ever try to love you. He has all of the qualifications to protect, provide, and love you. I know that He has for your nine years and will continue to do so for the rest of your days. Rely on Him my sweet girl, for He cares for you.
With Love,
Abigale
