No one knows his real name, so they call him Angelito, “little angel.”
When I first spotted him, he was throwing a full-on temper tantrum as he bolted away from his caregiver. His thin arms crossed over his chest, a frown that swallowed his gaunt face, his dark brown eyes glazed with tears, he ran over to Carmen, the director of the orphanage my team was visiting.
Then he noticed us, the new white visitors. He held his wiry arms up to me, and in that moment, he stole my heart.
Carmen told us his story. His mom would leave him at home alone, the door to their house open. He would wander into the street in a dirty diaper, crying and searching for food, which ended up being trash from the gutters. His neighbors were concerned about him, the barely two-year-old who was fending for himself, so they called the orphanage to take him in.
As I held him, he relaxed in my arms and laid his head on my shoulder. I thought of another three-year-old who means the world to me; my own nephew, Everett. I thought of everything he means to me and how I have missed his squeaky laugh, wild sense of humor, and strong personality.
Just as tightly as Angelito embraced me, I reciprocated to him. In that moment, I thanked God for giving me this tiny, sassy gift in my arms to remind me of my sweet boy at home.
Angelito and I walked around the orphanage together as he began to get more comfortable with me. He started talking to me, but of course, I couldn’t understand what he was saying to me, so he began to just yell and point at things. I laughed at his bossiness and he was pleased that I would oblige to his orders. His dark eyes lightened, the frown slowly turned upward, and he looked up at me as a genuine laugh escaped from him.
We laughed together, and that’s when I knew that he understood how much I had fallen for him in just a short amount of time.
The hardest part of meeting this little angel was that it was my last day in La Vega. Questions like, “Why didn’t we come here sooner?” and “I’m never going to see him again,” ran through my brain and broke my heart. Then the Lord reminded me that He had given me this moment to love as hard as I could, to show His heart to His little angel.
So I pressed in deeply.
As I chased him around with his racecar, hearing his cute giggle overtake his hard demeanor, I prayed a life of peace and favor over my new tiny amigo. I remembered my weekly playdates with my nephew, and for just a minute, the pain of missing him seceded as I became “tia” to another toddler for a few hours.
When it was time to go, I hugged all of the amazing kids, saving Angelito for last. I stroked his head, hugged him tightly, and said my goodbyes. Then I sighed, turned away, and began my slow, sad march to the gates.
My group was already out of the gates of the orphanage when I turned and looked back at him, sitting in the shade of the schoolhouse, tinkering with a firetruck.
“Go back and tell him you love him,” Jesus nudged.
I ran back, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “Te amo, Angelito. Adios mi amor.” He looked up at me, smiled, then went back to his firetruck. Basically walking backwards until he was out of view, I begged God to overtake his life, for him to always be a “little angel” in everything he did.
It’s been almost a week since I hugged Angelito, and every time I think of him, I pray for his life. He represents so many “little angels” who will inevitably steal my heart this year, a thought that is simultaneously exciting and heartbreaking. I think of my nephew back home who will be so much more grown up when I get home, and how I miss him every single day. But I also thank my Father for giving such beautiful gifts to me right when I need them most, such as the embrace of His little angel.
