Last week we were told that we'd be heading to a gypsy community to do some ministry with the children there. I immediately got excited, because our experiences with the gypsy people in Bulgaria were wonderful! They were so kind, so loving, so welcoming, and the kids were dolls! They found so much joy in our silly games, and were content to just sit and listen or play hand clap games with us. It was easy to love them. Even in one community where the kids occasionally got a bit bossy trying to exclude smaller children from the games, they still melted my heart when at the end of the day they all clinged around me giving me a group hug and keeping me from actually leaving. So as we walked our way toward our set "play date" with these new kids, I was anticipating an awesome afternoon.
When we finally reached our destination, set before my eyes was a single road climbing a huge hill. We began to walk, all eyes turning to the strange white people carrying backpacks, guitars, and nalgenes. And unlike previous gypsy villages I had visited, as I climbed that hill I felt unsettled. For whatever reason, as I walked past the men sitting outside and kids running around in the streets, I just got the feeling that the children of the community were not treated as children should be – that their innocence was being stolen. But as they approached us, I forced a smile on my face, started praying, and kept walking with my game face on.
By the time we reached the top of the hill, there were quite a few kids in tow. Cold Valley's (as this area was called) playground consisted of a couple of sketchy swingsets and a see-saw, trash and broken glass, a dirty carpet draped over a table, and a handful of kids, a couple of which were running around half-naked. First impression? These kids were a bit unruly. But if anything could bring them together for some fun, surely it would be the hokey pokey, right?! (Or as it is called in Bulgaria, the "wokey cokey"). So we gave it a go. Unfortunately, only about six kids were willing to join in, while the rest either ran around or stood to the side staring at us like we had lost our minds. It was clear that organized games and songs and stories were not going to hold these kids attention. So we switched to the alternative – the much less planned out goal of just playing with the kids.
(me and Hannah flipping one of the girls)
As we spread out and began to play with the kids individually, chaos ensued. At first it was all smiles, with the girls wanting us to flip them and swing them around. But before I knew it, two girls in front of me just start hitting each other. Hannah and I immediately jump in, trying to pull them away from the other. I mean I am physically having to hold back a six year old little girl, dragging her to the other side of the playground to keep her from hitting another. Then before I know it, there's a little boy involved and I'm kneeling on the ground between them as they start spitting at each other. When that finally calms down, I see a little girl sitting alone crying. I go sit down beside her, and she points to her eye. Because we don't speak the same language, I couldn't really figure out what was going on, so I just sat and consoled her best I could. Later I found out that one fo the boys had gotten angry and kicked her in the face. As I'm sitting there consoling her, a little boy probably around the age of four walks up to play. As I smile at him, I realize he is holding a cigarette in his hand, and it dawns on me what the little white sticks are that I've seen other kids running around with. And to top at all off, there are ten year old boys standing off to the side passing around a bottle of beer. Where am I?
(the sweet little boy that was running around with cigarettes)
I sat there overwhelmed for a couple of minutes. These kids are wild. They're mean. They're violent. They're misbehaved. They're crazy. But then I realized, no, these kids are NOT all of these things. Sure, their actions are reflecting these things. But with kids, actions are often an imitation of what they've seen adults do, or what has been done to them. I realized that their actions are a product of the environment they are being raised in, and my frustration floated away as I was hit with sadness. They hit and spit because they themselves have been hit or spit on, or because they've seen parents act in this way. They smoke and drink, because that's what they've seen the other adults do, and they want to be like them. They're stuck in a cycle of living this lifetstyle, and it is heartbreaking. And I wonder if when we choose to define these kids by the way that they are acting, if we are not just adding to that which pins them to this way of life. If we are partly to blame for taking away their innocence and future. What I hope to remember, is that as wild as they might be, their true identity is still an innocent child of God. Deep down below their outward actions, that is who they are – innocent children that don't know any better. And as difficult as it might be in the moment of chaos, what they really need is someone to tell them who they really are. They need someone to treat them as an innocent. They just need attention. They just need love that is unconditional.
I ended that day sitting off to the side in the grass with two little girls, Ava and Moni. For a bit they were just content to sit in my lap as I sang them some songs and looked out over Targu Mures from the top of the hill. It was peaceful to just hold them and breathe in the presence of God after all the chaos. To just rest and relax in Him. And then they decided to give me a makeover with imaginary makeup. So I obliged, and sat there letting them rub their hands all over my face and in my hair. I probably should have been cringing, knowing how dirty their hands were. But instead, I can honestly say that I was happy just to be doing something that they wanted to do. Just to be sitting on a hill, giving them attention, and hopefully giving them love.
(Ava and Moni after my "makeover")
Are you willing to look past someone's outward expressions, and instead see them for their true identity through the eyes of God? Are you willing to love those who are "difficult to love"? Would you declare a wild child innocent?
