She delights in laughing at silly skits and singing along with Amazing Grace. She told me her husband died and her kids don’t visit her anymore. She says she still likes to sing and smile because the Lord gives her joy.
We met while she and her mama were waiting to pick up her siblings from school. It took her very little time to grow comfortable with our team. She smiles and laughs and hugs and plays. Her mama’s name is Jessica, and she is my age with three kids.
They helped us paint the tires for their new playground. School was cancelled because the teachers were on strike. They like to jump on tires and spin in circles and dance. They are a little shy and almost never leave each others’ sides.
She and her sisters came to our feeding program every day. She is the middle child, and her spunky attitude shows it. Sometimes she runs around and takes her friends’ food or craft materials because scarcity mindset starts young, and little one did not quite understand what it means to share.
She is four years old; her curious spirit reminds me of my sweet girl, Madysen; and her little, high-pitched voice combined with lisp-y Spanish is the most difficult to understand. She always has a song in her heart and loves to run around singing it loud for all to hear.
The boy with downcast eyes is a fighter. He tends to be quick to anger and quick to use his fists, but when his anger is met with fierce love and gentle kindness, he softens. His heart stops beating so hard, he plays a little nicer, and he becomes a hugger.
We called him Grumpy the first couple weeks we knew him. He walked around with a scowl and preferred to keep his distance. Sometimes the older kids were mean to Grumpy. They would spit on him and his sweet little sister through the holes in the playground. We gave him cuddles when he got sad, and finally, the last couple days we had with Grumpy, we got to see this smile.
These are just a few of the faces. The faces that I will likely not see again before I enter heaven. The faces that stop me in my tracks mid-day as I suddenly remember their shining eyes or sweet dimples or desperate reaches for hugs. The faces that leave me wondering if they are okay. If they had any visitors today. If their school has re-opened yet. If they have had any food lately. If they are still protected from witch doctors. If they slept in a safe place last night. If anyone has recently told them they love them.
These are the faces that keep me up at night. The faces of the people around the world who remind me of my loves at home with their inviting eyes, contagious laughs, and precious cuddles. The faces that leave me heartbroken as I remember their challenging daily realities that I experienced for a few short weeks before I left them behind. The faces that bring tears to my eyes as I remember that I will likely never know the ends to their beautiful stories.
These are the faces that keep me praying. The faces that would haunt me and leave me completely crushed if I didn’t have a Heavenly Father to surrender them to. The faces that remind me that I serve a God who is trustworthy, faithful, and good. That I have a Father who loves his children, a Creator who loves his creation, a Provider who loves to provide, a Healer who loves to heal.
These are the faces that helped re-awaken my soul. That taught me new levels of enduring hope and uncircumstantial joy. The faces that brought a smile to my own on days when laughter was hard to find within me. The faces that lead me to ask God the kinds of questions that bring me to my knees in front of his throne because any other response leaves me helpless and hopeless. The faces that fill my heart with abundant joy and laughter because Jesus’ love for them surges through my heart every time we are together.
These are just a few of the faces. The faces that belong to hearts I have met and loved on the race. The faces that simultaneously make my heart smile and ache. The faces that I may never see again but God sees every day.
