During my time here in the Philippines I’ve had a few weeks to build relationships with people all over. Not only by traveling to different feedings or helping out with different ministries but also seeing the people right outside of our gates. Something I’m insanely thankful for; relationship, and connection especially so close to our home here in the Philippines.
Despite language barriers, the children and adults of our community typically speak decent broken English. English isn’t a make or break deal, because love knows no language, but more so a plus.
I’ve had the privilege of getting to know and love sassy, spunky and outspoken 9 year old Angela, sweet little 4 year old monkey climbin’ Raymart, loveable little Dexter, quiet and reserved but brave and bold 12 year old Lanka, sweet baby Iysa, the list goes on and on and on. There are so many littles to love. So many to run in the streets with, swim with, read to. So many that will tug on your heart strings so hard without you even knowing it. So many times will you play outside for just five more minutes after an exhausting day of swimming, feedings, and media ministry. So many times will you go up four flights of stairs to change into your swimsuit to swim when you just don’t want to, and oftentimes you’ll jump in fully clothed, because the little girls just really want you to hold them and laugh with them in the 3 ft kiddie pool. There will be times that you’ll meet a child and they’ll cling their frail little body so tightly to your own body that you wonder how often they just get picked up and held. You’ll wonder why they are so little, and what their home looks like. What their parents are like or if they even have parents, and tears will well up in your eyes because your heart will shatter into a billion little pieces because of all of the “what if’s?” But you’ll hold the tears back and rejoice in the fact that even though these children have dirty little bodies, and infections covering their legs, very little clothes, and arms and legs that fight for the front of the line at the daily feedings because that could be the only meal of the week for themselves and the 10 people that live with them; these children rejoice in the little that they have. Because wealth by society says “you are rich if you have mass amounts of money, nice cars, a big house, and a well paying job” – but wealth by truth says “God has chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world to be rich in faith and to inherit the kingdom he promised to those who love Him” James 2:5
A quote I read in Kisses from Katie in the Dominican Republic hasnt left my mind since, but the other day as Lillabea and I were reading the book again, I was reminded of it and it moved me and stirred me up something wild. “I’ve had people ask me why I think Africa is so impoverished, but these children are not poor. I, as a person who grew up wealthy, am. I put value in things. These children having no things, put value in God. I put my trust in relationships; these children having already seen relationships fail, put their trust in the Lord. This nation is blessed beyond any place, any people I have ever encountered. God has not forgotten them. In fact I believe He’s loved them a little bit extra.”
You choose to rejoice because though these children may be poor in the eyes of the world their Dad looks at them with eyes of compassion, and love, and crazy amounts of joy that they choose to rejoice. And you rejoice with them.
In the beautiful opportunity I’ve had of making friends and family with those all around my community; trials and tribulations arise out of nowhere leaving the families and friends near and dear to my heart as well as myself left in tears and speechless.
A have a friend here in Cainta, his name is Arvin. He’s 14 years old, and he’s got special needs. But even bigger than that. He is loved, he is seen, and he is a crucial part of our community. On May 4th, just before I was about to leave to the little fruit and vegetable stand down the road, some of my friends in the neighborhood grabbed onto my hands and dragged me over to a light pole with a sign taped to it reading “MISSING 14 year old boy named Arvin” with a photo of MY FRIEND Arvin’s face, just below the 8 letter word that changed everything for his family and friends. My stomach dropped as I saw the sign. I pulled my friend Abi over to the sign to see if she knew anything about it, she hadn’t yet. We both stood there a few minutes trying to wrap our brains around the whole thing. In a daze, I hugged the kiddos goodbye and told them I was going to the store, that I’d be back later. As we walked along the road lined with trikes, and colorful homes made of many different materials. I watched the man who sells ice cream in the area ring his bell, as littles ran up and down the pavement laughing and giggling their way home, I watched street cats and dogs lounge out on cars, and as my eyes were watching the world around me burst with life, I couldn’t help but hold back the tears in my eyes. Tears of frustration and anger. Tears that surfaced because of the pang of desperation and hopelessness I felt. I couldn’t help but think of anything else but every possibility of where it is Arvin could be. “I just saw him yesterday afternoon as he came to swim with all of the other community kids. How in the world is he just gone?” I thought it was some sick joke. No way this could be real. But it was. It was heartbreakingly, earth shatteringly, and utterly as real as the chair you’re sitting on or the sun you’re standing under.
In the 3 days that had passed since Arvin had gone missing, the girls and I as well as community members, and family and friends of his, prayed fervently. Desperately. Urgently. With everyone and anyone who’d pray with us. Before swim time with the community kids, we prayed. Before meals, we prayed. Before bed. When I woke up. While I got dressed. And even when my mind ran a billion different directions. During the in-betweens, and everything in between that. It felt as though every time my attention wasn’t demanded on something or somewhere else, I was praying.
I know crazy amounts of strong women, but one of them being a dear friend of mine, as well as the community president, a local midwife, a mother, generous and compassionate, reverent, quick to assist anyone in need of help, respected, a fighter for love, and one of the most joyful people I’ve ever met in my life, Rona, came to our house May 7th to pack up care packages for a community close by that lost a lot of their possessions and some of their homes due to a house fire that ran rampant.
Just before she arrived, some of the kids from our neighborhood were sitting outside calling out to Lillabea and I as we walked passed the front gate. We opened the gate to a group of four littles. One of them, with big brown eyes, wearing a purple shirt, clutching a crumbled and dirtied piece of paper carefully unfolded it and showed Lillabea what it read “MISSING 14 year old boy named Arvin.” She looked at us with her big brown eyes and asked “Teta, have you seen my cousin Arvin?” Lillabea explained to her big brown eyes that we heard that he’d been missing, but we hadn’t seen him around. “Do you want us to pray?” she asked the little girl. The little girl nodded hesitantly and we all got down low and held hands. Lillabea prayed that God just bring Arvin home. Pleading out to God that Arvin be returned home safe and sound. That Christians around Arvin would stand up, and rise to bring this son home to his hurting family. She finished praying and after their little voices echoed “Amen” we hugged them goodnight and headed back inside.
A few minutes later is when Rona got to our house. She sat in front of us explaining to us all about the awful possibilities that came with a missing child. We were aware that sometimes littles just get lost in seas of crowds, causing them to wander off by themselves, resulting in them being found by people and turned in to orphanages. This night, Rona told us about the awful reality of a version of Human Trafficking I’d never heard of; Human Organ Trafficking. When there are people desperate enough for internal organs that they don’t have the money to pay for, people will go around kidnapping children, taking what they need eventually killing the child and saving themselves. The more Rona spoke about this version of Human Trafficking the more I felt sick to my stomach. I was internally screaming out to God. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. Children are THE FACES, THE BRAINS, THE MINDS, THE HEARTS, AND THE SOULS of the FUTURE! WHY AREN’T THEY BEING SEEN THAT WAY. Why aren’t they valued, or precious to the ignorance of this world. WHY WHY WHY! The anger that consumed every ounce of my being, spilled out of me in tears. I just began crying, completely taken aback that this was the sick and twisted reality of the world that I live in. Unable to speak, I sat there as one of the girls asked to pray altogether. We all grabbed hands and one by one asked God to deliver Arvin from the hand of evil. As I prayed out loud I felt this overwhelming sense of reassurance. As if God was eagerly sitting on the edge of heaven, listening to the words that poured out of my mouth, nodding His head, and telling me that It’d be alright. I listened as everyone else prayed and after a few minutes all of us had gone around and prayed different prayers of urgency with the same goal in mind; something along the lines of “God bring Arvin home right now. Bring him home tonight.” We finished praying and everyone dispersed. Rona gathered her things, said goodnight to all of us and headed home. I went and took a shower, and began writing in my journal:
”Jesus thank you that your mercy reigns. grace abounds. and love wins. Thank you that even when my soul feels hopeless, you are a God of hope. THank you that the harvest isn’t bountiful in every season & it is you that reigns. Thank you that you are a God miracles. THat you answer prayers and act when your people call on your name. In surging seas, you calm our storms with a few simple words. Thank you.“
Before I finished writing one of my little sisters called me and I ran downstairs to get better wifi so that I could see her little face and hear her sweet voice. About 20 minutes into our conversation I heard screaming in the courtyard. I put my phone down and ran outside to see what was going on. The second I flung the kitchen door open I was greeted by a friend of mine, Nicole’s, beaming face. “THEY FOUND ARVIN!” she yelled to me.
Time stopped for a second. In complete awe, I looked up at the sky and said “hallelujah.” Before we knew it, Nicole and I were running barefoot, as fast as we could to Rona’s house to see if she’d heard the news. About 2 minutes later I glanced over as another handful of our girls came running up the street, faces jubilant and beaming with the joy that our brother was SAFE and he was FOUND, and that he was returning home, safe and sound. We shouted praises at our God thanking Him that HE IS IN FACT – a miracle working God. Faithful. Resilient. A shepherd that fights for His sheep. And a Dad that loves His children. I’m not sure I have accurate words to paint the picture of unblemished relief and complete joy I was feeling that moment. That I still feel in this moment. And in a collection of little moments leading up to this one; because Arvin is safe at home, and asleep in his bed as I type this blog out at 2:24 am on May 10th, 2018.
With several cases of kidnappings and human organ trafficking, part of the sickening statistics fed the pieces of my flesh that said it’d be impossible for Arvin to get home safe and sound, nonetheless tonight. During this battle of my flesh and spirit, my spirit was constantly reminding me that the God I believe in is the one that breathed life into my lungs. Created man and woman out of dust. Gives sight to the blind. Raises children from the dead. A God that not only performed these miracles years and years and years ago but also still performs miracles such as these today. I serve a miraculous God. Capable of miraculous things. A God that physically removes and 8 year old boy, from his voodoo priest uncle that is trying to sacrifice him, and places him in an unfamiliar safe haven (Miracles on Voodoo Mountain – Megan Boredauex) A God that brings babies back to life (Lillabea’s most recent blog) and protects a 9 year old boy from a (former) satanist with the sole purpose of killing him (testimony some of my girls heard in South Africa). I had no reason, hundreds of years ago, and I have no reason today to believe that my God couldn’t bring Arvin home. As I sat there in awe and wonder that resonated so deeply within me, I couldn’t help but know in my soul my God reigns. My God reigns, what a beautiful thing to be basking in. I want to allow that to saturate my life, from my external to my innermost being, for the rest of my days.
It’s a few days later and I’m still basking in the glory of my God. I walked the group of girls in to swim earlier this afternoon, when amongst the sea of beautiful little girls sweet faces, one caught my eye. The second I looked at her she grabbed my hand and said “Teta, my cousin. Arvin. He is home.” I held back my tears as she held tightly onto my hand. “I heard sweet girl. We spent so much time praying that Arvin would come home safe and sound, and he is! Our God answers prayers.” She looked at me, with her big brown eyes, “yes He does.”
I know deep in my soul that I’ll never forget these days for as long as I live, and I hope you don’t either. I pray something fierce moves in you as you read the words on this screen. That you be inspired and feel a little more hopeful in the situations you just need a miracle in. That you know that God is eager to listen to your prayers and even more willing to move mountains for the sake of you!
You are not what the world says you are.
You are loved.
You are seen.
And You are worth moving mountains for.
I pray you believe these things.
Thank you over and over again to those of you who’ve taken the time to read this. I deeply appreciate you. Praying over your minds, souls, and hearts tonight.
Loads of love,
Xx- d
