My heart broke in a new, unfamiliar way…

 

Settled in the foothills of the Andes mountain range on the outskirts of Mendoza, Argentina is a neighborhood where the wine tourists and the hiking enthusiasts steer clear of. Inside of a collection of tarps and blankets strung together to form houses live the souls of the unknown- people without recognition, unidentified and unnoticed by the rest of the town’s community. Down this dirt road, traipsing through the mass amount of garbage flooding the ground came the feet of the little kids.

 

About 40 children from this area hesitantly approached our group of 7 white Americans who didn’t speak their language. Everywhere I turned, little kids were taking care of the littler kids. Seven-year-old sisters claimed care over their three-year-old brothers. A ten-year-old girl carried her baby sibling on her hip. Mangled hair, soiled faces, dirt-caked skin, and an overpowering smell exposed proof that most of these kids hadn’t bathed in weeks, probably even months. Their tattered shoes were either too big or too small for them and most of the young girls were wearing belly shirts and make-up. A few of them had bruised, black eyes.

 

These weren’t street kids or orphans; they probably had parents and families. But many of them came from broken homes and their parents were most likely working, doing drugs, or simply just too preoccupied with their own lives to know what their kids were up to that day.

 

Before driving into this neighborhood we were told that it was a pretty dangerous area of town and to be careful with our belongings. I never felt threatened by fear but instead my heart was pressed with sadness from the view of my surroundings. My heart broke in a new, unfamiliar way when I saw these children and their living conditions.

 

We spent the afternoon with them playing games, acting silly, and talking to them through what limited Spanish we knew. We loved on them the way Jesus does- without limits or boundaries. I saw in their faces what it looks like to just be a child; to be innocent and free of their harsh world even for just one short afternoon.

 

I wanted to keep pouring Jesus into their little lives and when it was time to leave I felt a sense of helplessness for these kids. If we left them, who will teach them about their Heavenly Father who is so in love with them and looks at their messy hair and dirty hands with adoration?

 

There is always hope in the helplessness. God sees these children and His hand of protection is over them. Their ragged neighborhood doesn’t quite blend well against its breathtaking backdrop of mountains and vineyards but it’s a place where the Lord is present and that’s the greatest beauty of all.

 

Please join me in continuing to pray for the children of this neighborhood that they will grow in Christ’s love for them and know their precious worth through the eyes of their Creator.

 

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” -Matthew 19:14