Now don't get me wrong, I like kids for the most part. But what I found out that Sunday was that I like them when they're clean, when they're nice, when they're clean, when they're cute, when they're clothed, and did I mention when they're clean? And let me tell you, these kids were often mean, hardly if at all clothed, and the furthest thing from clean.
After they filed in, fighting for space on the benches by throwing punches or screaming who knows what, the service began.
My teammates lined the edge of the pavilion, sitting with the children, some on their laps and others fighting to get closer. Alyssa already had a baby in her arms, rocking and soothing him with such grace. At first I stood at the front of the pavilion, content with just watching them, and then I paced the outside of it realizing my unwillingness in that moment. Eventually I made my way to the back, standing on the rock edge, content with the appearance I was putting on of being involved, but resting in the sureness I had that no child would approach me if I was standing in the back. I stood on the edge simply watching the children… My eyes drawn to the little girl below me with warts covering her hands, arms, and face. 'Please don't let her come up to me,' I thought. I watched a pants-less little boy wearing what was once a white t-shirt, now brown and yellow and ripped to shreds, dripping with what I was hoping was just water. 'He's so dirty. Please don't let him come up to me,' I thought. The girl in front of me, probably 12 years old, was holding a baby covered in sores, flies swarming every inch of her. 'Oh God, I can't do this. I just can't do this,' I thought as my stomach literally turned.
And then she came up to me, this sweet tiny girl awkwardly holding a naked child almost her height, but a fraction of her weight. Her hair was swept up in a small scarf and her dress was tattered, torn and stained. She stood on the edge of the wall with me, looking concerned and worn well beyond her age, her dirty toes practically touching mine, talking to me in Creole for what seemed like minutes. And then it happened. She outstretched her arms and handed me this boy. This sleeping, naked, tiny, boy. Thoughts were swarming through my mind…'What if he pees on me? What if it's not pee but the second option? How will I react? What will I do?! Why can't someone else hold him?!' Regardless, I took him gently, shocked at how light he felt in my arms, knowing instantly he was malnourished. He tried to lift his heavy head, but couldn't keep it up and instead dropped it against my arm, his eyes rolling into the back of his head and then closing asleep. Instantly my heart broke and my thoughts changed from fear and disgust to absolute horror and sadness. 'How long had it been since his last meal? How long does this boy have left to live? Am I holding a dying child in my arms this moment? Oh, Lord… Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me for my in-compassionate heart, for my selfish and dirty heart.'
Reality hit me that instant just how selfish I had been and the rest of the day I wrestled with really tough thoughts. I asked God over and over again that morning to give me HIS eyes, HIS heart, and HIS love for these children, because it was obvious that I couldn't do it on my own. I begged Him to take away my fear of the dirt, the germs, and the sickness. I prayed prayers of life over the children, over the boy who was sleeping in my arms. I prayed God's protection over them, His love, and simply a peace in the midst of their circumstances. And I wish I could say that it happened instantly, that I was filled with the love and compassion of the Father, but I wasn't. And I was really mad. At team time that night I confessed to my team each of these thoughts that ran through my mind that morning. I told them that I didn't understand how I was a woman, who is supposed to be a nurturer and who could someday be a mother, and be so disgusted by children. I felt like there was something so wrong with me and my heart broke that I couldn't find the compassion that I wanted to the fullest extent. The next week I prayed every day for those kids, for God's love to fill me and that I would find His compassion overflowing in me when we arrived that next Sunday. I prayed against the fear that the enemy placed in me over my comfort and health. I prayed for willingness to be used by Him in the lives of those children.
