“My heart felt heavy a couple days this week seeing all of this and feeling helpless. There was absolutely nothing I could do because when the kids are violent we have no control over them. Realized we cannot change the culture and that this will continue to go on for a long time. It is hard to accept that fact. I am not currently practicing social work now that I am on this mission’s trip but I am a social worker at heart and still hold those values. I want to be able to do more and to speak up for the vulnerable children but I CAN’T. #1 that’s not my role with this trip and #2 it is their culture…. I can’t just call children services or go and set up counseling for the families or do anything that I might do being a social worker in the U.S. The only thing I can do is show them LOVE that they may not get otherwise.”
This is an excerpt from one of my blogs (Subeme) month one of my trip. And as I have looked back over my trip, I have realized that this was something I felt several months. I felt helpless and powerless. Different countries. Different experiences. But it left me feeling the same. I wanted to be able to do something to bring change but I felt like my hands were tied and the ONLY thing I could do was to offer love to the children we worked with. Sure, I can walk with a child and hold their hand, scratch their back as they sit on my lap, simply hold them close, or allow them to put their head in my lap as I rub their back. And I did. But I felt that it wasn’t enough.
God began speaking to me about how He is enough during month 9 of my trip when I was really struggling with this, but I don’t think I fully grasped what He was trying to tell me then. It was after I returned home, began processing my experiences, and preparing to share those experiences with different groups that I finally understood what He was telling me. During those difficult times, I felt like the ONLY thing I could do was to love but I have come to realize that it wasn’t the only thing – it was the GREASTEST thing I could do. Upon returning home, a friend and fellow social worker recommended that I read a book entitled The Boy Who Was Raised as a Dog. It is a book written by a child psychiatrist about some of the atrocities he has found children to face, what was done to help them (therapy, medication, etc.), and what he learned through all of it. He found that children can have their basic needs met – a place to live, food to eat, etc. but if they do not have love they fail to thrive. You can treat a child with medication and therapy but that alone cannot do the job. The author concludes that “relationships are the agents of change and the most powerful therapy is love.”
And that is all he asks of us – to “look after orphans and widows in their distress”. He doesn’t ask us to change them or heal them. He just asks us to look after them – sit with them, be with them in their distress and pain, LOVE them. We may not know the impact that our love has on someone but it is NEEDED and is the greatest thing that we can offer someone. God taught me a lot about His love on my trip and He had me read the story of Hosea (if you haven’t read it I would encourage you to do so) before entering my 9th month. I had read the story before and didn’t think much of it but this time was different. I felt Him telling me that this story is 2-fold. We are all Gomer and God is our Hosea. That is how much He loves us. But the other part, He wanted me to be Hosea. I wasn’t sure at the time exactly what that meant but I soon found out entering month 9. He was calling me to love as He loves. To love unconditionally. To love when I may not be loved in return. To love even when it hurts. That is not always easy but that is to love as Christ. And that love, it is POWERFUL.
I may never know the impact of the love I offered hundreds of children around the world during my trip but I now know it was the greatest thing I could do. And I have hope that the time I spent with each child has impacted their lives in some way. Thankfully, I have heard about a few children and how they were impacted. I loved all of the kids that I worked with. Some were easier to love than others. It is easy to love kids that are cute and fun but it definitely isn’t easy to love those where you have to get over yourself… to be able to love with Christ’s love. I want to attempt to share one of those stories with you.
This is a story about an 8 year-old girl and my experience with her. This is my story of learning to love as Christ loves and this little girl is my “Gomer”. This story will take us back to the 2nd floor… (if you don’t know what I’m referring to you can read my blog Behind the Wall).
This little girl is about 8 years-old. She looks fairly healthy especially compared to the other children in the room. She has rosy cheeks and her dark hair is kept very short. The only physical sign that anything is wrong is if you look at her hands. Her hands are red, puffy, and swollen; as one of the ways she copes with her living situation, is sucking on them. She is one of the many disabled kids and they tell us that she has autism.
You will find this little girl in the corner. This is her place that she stands. She feels safe there. If you look at her she will hide her face either covering it with her coat or her hands. She will peak out at you but she does not make eye contact. Sometimes she doesn’t even feel safe in her corner. Those times she will grab a chair, pull it into her corner, and stand behind it. The only time that she ventured out of her corner was when there was food. She was one you had to look out for because she was one of the ones that would steal food from the weaker kids and she was quick!
There were many disabled children in that room. Some sought our attention; some visibly and audibly upset. Those were the ones that my teammates and I tended to spend time with – the children seeking love; those children who clearly needed to be loved and comforted; those demanding our attention. This little girl was not one of them. She stayed to herself in her corner. She would occasionally yell or sing something. It was always the same words she yelled and she sang the same song but I never knew the English translation. After hearing it so often in the course of our time there, I’m sure I could repeat what she would yell but I have no idea what I’d be saying. Although she mainly stayed to herself, there was something about her that I was drawn to.
I decided that she was one that I needed to reach out to. I did the only thing I could think of. I joined her in her corner. I pulled up a chair and I sat. I then began to sing. I sang any song I could think of – kids songs, Christmas songs, worship songs, anything. When I ran out of songs, I wanted to tell her that Jesus love her but I wanted to tell her in her language so she’d understand. I had no idea how to say it and it wasn’t on my list of phrases so instead I told her “Wo ai ni” (pronounced Wor aye nee meaning I love you).
She looked at me. Blew her nose into her hand and then wiped it on my face. She then pulled and bit my hair. In that moment, I was very disgusted and frustrated with her. I wanted to get up, walk away and be done with her. But I couldn’t. I didn’t. I knew that God was calling me to continue to love her. Instead of getting up and walking away, I took a deep breath, looked at her and again told her “Wo ai ni”.
