I’ve been absent from
the blogosphere for pretty much this entire trip. Sorry about that.
This story was too good not to share though.
I first met him January 2008. All I really knew was his name was Michael, he was 2 years
old, and he absolutely stole my heart.
For just under two weeks, he was glued to my side and was the reason I
was excited to wake up and go to the work site each day. He was my little buddy and I loved him
in some weird unconditional way.
It took everything in me not to cry the day I left, knowing I had to
leave my little buddy to live in the same squatter village, unable to control
his future.
In January of ’09, I had the opportunity to go back to the
Philippines. While I most
definitely made friends and loved the children in the second village, I
couldn’t help but miss my little buddy.
I was blessed with a trip back to the original village where I saw the
now 3-year-old Michael. I didn’t
think it was possible to love him more, but the moment I saw his smiling face
and he ran into my arms, I knew this kid would always mean something to me.
It’s been almost three years since that last reunion and
I’ve found myself back in the Philippines for a few days. I tried to come here with no
expectations, knowing things change a lot over time. I mean, I managed to travel the world in that time. How I can I be sure this little boy I
love would still know me? Or even
be alive?
Thursday I found my answer. I found Michael.
I just need to pause for a moment and say God deserves a
ridiculous amount of glory for the events that went down that day. I walked into this day knowing pretty
much two pieces of information about this kid. 1) His name is Michael. 2) He’s cute. I
didn’t have a last name. I
couldn’t actually even tell you which house was his if you had asked because he
spent most of his time glued to my side.
I knew nothing. Yet, we
found him. And this is the story
of how that happened.
We arrived in the village absolutely flabbergasted at the
paved road we had just driven in on.
The memories of pushing our jeepney through the mud seemed like just
yesterday. It didn’t take long
before Bella asked about Michael.
“Oh Michael? About 5 or
6?” They knew him! I don’t understand a word they’re saying
when Bella turns to me and says, “They moved.” I had prayed the night before that the Lord would remove all
my expectations of this day, that I would go into this open handed, knowing
there was a good chance I would not see my little buddy again. As Bella told me that Michael’s family
no longer lived in this village, I was actually at peace. Sure I was a bit disappointed, but my
world wasn’t shattered like I had previously expected it to be. Nonetheless, Bella kept asking
questions.
Before I knew it we had two first year high school students
in the back seat of our truck headed to the opposite side of town in search for
Michael. We learned his family had
moved because his dad had gotten into a bit of trouble. They didn’t tell anyone in the village
where they went, except for the family of one of these boys. After a pit stop at McDonald’s, we
learn that the boys don’t in fact know where they are going. They are just as clueless as we are as
to Michael’s whereabouts. All they
know is it’s by a bridge and, well, there are a lot of bridges in this area of
town. We get to the part of town
we were told it was and ask a man where this specific bridge is. He points us in one direction. After pulling a u-turn and heading that
way, he waves us down and tells us he was wrong. We pull another u-turn, starting to feel like this might be
a hopeless cause.
Soon enough though, we cross a bridge. This is it! We see a sign that says the name of the Barangay he
supposedly lives in. We pull over
and a young man with a mohawk asks what we need. The two in the back still look clueless, so we tell him
Michael’s name and hope for the best.
To our surprise, the young man says he knows the family and asks if we’d
like him to go get Michael’s mom for us.
As we sit there and wait, I can’t help but think of the last
time I saw her. She had been
putting on Michael’s clothes after a bath when we walked up. It was then that Michael took off in a
sprint into my arms. I was growing
more and more anxious, yet still trying not to get too excited when Michael’s
mother, Vanessa walked up.
“Michael’s in school right now.”
When she said that, I thought for sure we were done. Nope. She hopped in our car, in between the two boys, and to the
school we went.
I think it was at this point in time that I had to refrain
from pinching myself to convince myself this was in fact real life and it was
looking more and more like I might actually get to see him.
Anyway, we get to his school and Vanessa goes in. She tells the teacher Michael has a
friend who flew in from Vietnam to see him and that she needs to borrow him for
about 10 minutes. It takes
everything in me not to burst into tears of joy as I see him walking down that
sidewalk with Vanessa. My little
buddy, exactly like I remember him, only bigger. We talk for a bit before finally taking some pictures and
saying goodbye.
The reunion was nothing like I expected; it was a thousand times better. You see, unlike the last time I saw
him, I walked away from this day filled with hope for my little buddy. Hope for a future brighter than his
past; hope for a future that truly makes a difference. As I looked at him in that little school uniform of his and saw
him smile, I couldn’t help but thank God for this beautiful child. Yep, he’s a winner and I have no doubt
he’s going to continue to change lives long after mine. While there’s no way for me to ever
know if Michael remembered me (he claims he did!), you have to admit, it’ll be
hard for him to forget being pulled out of class to see a white girl who’s been
looking all over town for him.
