On my off days, I spent the majority of my time at a ministry called Hero’s. This is a program that feeds, educates, empowers, and loves boys who live on the streets, also known as street kids. There are a variety of different reasons why they end up on the streets- some run away by their own choice, but the majority of the reasons stem from abuse and fear of being home, or neglected.
The boys and what God did through this ministry quickly consumed my heart and stirred a new and great passion inside of me. My heart beat differently after meeting these kids. But it wasn’t easy. Seeing the same torn up clothes these kids wore every day, hearing their stories, the terrible treatment they get on the streets, and the thought of mere children fending for themselves to survive was heartbreaking.
The first day a teammate and I experienced these kids, the Spirit consumed both of our hearts to wash their feet. And need I remind you, these kids walk the dirty streets of Kampala barefoot with wounds, and filthy feet, in need of an intense pedicure. But this is what Jesus did, and Jesus wants us to do for others, what he has done or us. One after the other, these kids came, sat before us as we kneeled at their feet, and cleansed them in the bucket of water. They laughed because it tickled, they jumped with excitement because they were going to have clean feet for the first time in a long time, and they thanked us fervently. As the last kid was drying his feet, the others took my hand, sat me down, and began washing mine. Words don’t do justice what I experienced in that moment.
^The moment they washed my feet
The boy on the left with the Spiderman tank top, that he wore every day, is my buddy Ibrah. This sweet kid stole my heart. He has 4 other siblings and has been on the streets for about a year. He claimed to be 10 years old, but many of them don’t know their actual age because it is too hard for them to keep track, or they were never told when their birthday is.
Ibrah was the most generous kid I’ve ever met and was smiling in any circumstance, but when he would talk about his story, it was like looking into the eyes of a child who desperately desired a mother and a father who would just tell him that he was loved and valued. Ibrah’s mother is not in the picture anymore and his dad would physically abuse him. This is why a year ago, he decided to leave his family and run away to the streets- seeking for an escape, safety, and freedom. Ibrah is incredibly smart. His prayer everyday was to go to school. We would work on math together and talk about the environment, and he quickly became a younger brother to me. He captured every ounce of my heart.
I have a tattoo of a moon on my ankle with my mom’s thumbprint in it. Growing up, whenever I was away from my mom and she couldn’t tuck me in at night, she would always tell me to blow kisses to the moon. Because no matter where we were in the world, when everything around us seemed different, the moon remained the same forever. Ibrah saw my tattoo, and I shared with him that no matter the distance that happens between us, it would never hinder the magnitude of my love for him. It gave him hope that when he feels alone, he knows I’m looking right back at him.
^Ibrah drew himself a moon tattoo
Through the heartache and the overwhelming stories of these kids, the Lord’s goodness remained. These boys know they have a heavenly Father who loves them and takes care of them. I saw Jesus in these kids. Through the hurt, through the pain, through the fear, Jesus was present. God showed me through a common theme of helplessness this month that I’m not here to fix anything. I have no power in my name, but Jesus Christ does. Why is this the life these kids have to live? Why did they have to grow up so quickly? Why do they have to live in fear? The questions could go on and on. And the answer to these questions….I have no clue. But I do know that the way my heart wept for these kids is nothing in comparison to how God’s heart weeps.
I love their dusty bare feet, and holding their dirty hands, and hugging their filthy clothes, and kissing their sweaty cheeks because God gave me eyes to see what he sees in these young boys. The Lord showed me that this is how he views us. We deserve to be looked at only from our filth and our dirt, but the cross cleanses us of our sin. God looks at us with beauty, with love, and with grace. He doesn’t see the dirt that we are covered in every day. I learned this from these street kids – God’s precious children. My heart will forever be with Ibrah and the streets of Uganda.
^This was the moment I gave Ibrah a picture of us and I was reading my letter to him on the back^
From the wise words of Eileen (our world race mom/coach): I may have left Uganda, but God did not.
