In June 2012, I embarked on my first Passport trip with Adventures In Missions to Nicaragua. (I highly recommend all you 18-22 year olds out there check it out!)
We started out our trip in Altagracia, a tiny town on the Island of Ometepe. The plan was to spend the first half of the trip there, and then move to another location for the second half. One of the ministries was called Si A La Vida, a home for boys who have been rescued from the streets.
On our first visit to Si A La Vida, I met an 11 year old boy named Elvin. Elvin was quiet; he didn’t speak much, even when I asked him questions. I remember going home that afternoon and thinking how I needed to go back there. Each day, a few of us would go back. We’d play games and talk and try to build relationships with these young kids. Slowly, Elvin started opening up to me about his life. It wasn’t pretty. All I wanted to do was help, but I didn’t know what I could do.
Me + Elvin
One day, a group of us went down to the beach. We went swimming and played some games, and then before we knew it, it was time for us to head back home. At this point, Elvin had started asking me about my life back in the States. As we were walking up the hill to get back to the compound, he asked, “Ashley, quiere niños?” (Do you want kids?) I explained that of course I want to have kids someday, but I was only 22 and wasn’t ready for that yet.
And then it happened. “Ashley, quiero ir a Nueva York. Quiero ser su hijo. Quiero que seas mi madre.” (I want to come to New York. I want to be your son. I want you to be my mother.) In that moment, my heart shattered. Completely caught off guard, and unsure how to respond, I said something along the lines of “I love you so much, but I am not capable of being a mother.” And my heart broke more. Of course I wanted to bring him home with me. More than anything I have ever wanted in my entire life. But I just couldn’t. He said he was sad that I had to leave for the day, but I assured him I would be back tomorrow and not to be sad because we still had two weeks left together.
When I went home that afternoon, I was informed that due to some logistical issues, we were going to be leaving in the next day or two, instead of in two weeks. I learned that not only were we leaving Altagracia, but we were leaving Ometepe altogether. What? How can I leave when I just promised Elvin I would be here for two more weeks? And when I thought my heart couldn’t break any more, it did.
I became angry with God – really angry. I was angry that God would let this happen. I was angry that Elvin didn’t have a family to care for him. I was angry that I didn’t have the means to be that family for him. I cried. A lot. And I walked back to the boys home to tell Elvin the news. We sat and cried together. It was the most heartbreaking thing ever. I wanted nothing to do with God. How could He be so loving, but allow two hearts to shatter into a million pieces? That doesn’t seem very loving to me.
In the weeks come, I was faced with illness, and a lot of time alone to think. God spoke gently to me about some things. He told me that my anger was okay. It’s okay for me to be angry about the injustices in the world – to be angry that Elvin doesn’t have a family – because He is angry too. He also showed me that just as I love Elvin and want what’s best for him, He wants that for Elvin as well, except he actually KNOWS what perfect love is and what the best for someone looks like. He gave me peace in knowing that I was leaving Elvin, but HE was not. He also showed me that in the midst of my hurt and brokenness, He wasn’t going anywhere.
My heart still aches for this young boy, mijo Elvin. (I’m actually sitting here in tears while I write this.) Not a day goes by that I don’t think about him and pray for him. He will forever hold a special place in my heart. But I have confidence in this: The God of the universe, who made everything I see and who allowed me to have such sweet moments with Elvin, loves him with all He’s got. Elvin might not have a mother, but he has a Father, a good Father. God is taking care of my boy. And I know He is doing a better job than I could’ve ever done.
