They have been there, in every country. Some more visible than others. Begging for food and money, sometimes selling things. More often than not, there is a dead look in their eyes, a numbness that hits you hard if you actually look at them. They are covered in dirt and wearing the only clothes they have, usually with holes in it or they are 2 sizes too small. They run along the street, covered in rocks and broken glass, with no shoes. They hold out their hand and stare at you, and in that moment your heart breaks. They are the street kids. Every time you meet one, the same nagging questions come to mind.
Do they have parents or are they orphans?
Does someone own them and force them to beg, or is it their only means of surviving?
My stomach turns when we encounter a street kid with a disability, because the first question in my head is always the same.
Did someone do this to them to make people sympathize more and give them more money?
It seems like a crazy thought. No one would actually do that. They wouldn’t cut that boys arm off. They wouldn’t make that girl blind. They wouldn’t cripple that boy’s legs, just for money, but it happens. It’s not as far-fetched as we wish to believe. Many street kids are actually owned by someone and forced to beg or sell things on the street. The owner keeps the money and the child continues to beg. This is why, if I can, I will offer food over money. Try to get a warm meal in their bloated, malnourished bellies.
I had the opportunity to connect with one boy in Cambodia over a shared burger and coke. He walked up right after we ordered and started to hang around and watch the Americans. He put his fingers together and touched his lips, asking for food. I told him if he waited, he could have some of my burger. To my delight he stayed. He sat just on the other side of a tree and watched us. He didn’t speak English, so i never got his name. He did sing a little bit of the song “what does the fox say?” so i pulled up the video on my phone, and he watched with a new excitement. His eyes lit up and he almost smiled.
When the food came out we split my meal in half. When i handed him his burger, he had a full blown smile across his face. When we finished our meal, we played a little more. I showed him pictures and videos of himself on my iPod. He left with a smile still present on his face. I’ll probably never see that boy again and I pray he ends up alright. That he will have more nourishing meals and less nights on the street.
But he’s not the only one. Everyday we see more. What about the boys that hop on the train while it waits for it’s turn just outside the station? They run through the cars searching for bottles in the trash and toss them in to their torn and tattered bags they drag behind them. Does anyone show them real love? Does anyone give them a second look? They are only 8 years old at the most. What will their lives become? Or what will happen to the sisters in the train station? The littlest one is just skin and bones, except for he heart breaking, bloated belly that sticks out of her too small t-shirt. Will she make it through the year? I’m at a loss for words and actions as the oldest sister beats on the littlest one. She’s trying to gain sympathy for the littlest one, in hopes that people will be more generous to her and they might get a little more money or food for that night.
Sometimes it’s hard to fight the urge to turn and ignore it. But that is not what God calls us to do. He calls us to open our eyes and choose to see, even when it’s heart breaking. Choose to care, even when the only thing you can do is pray. Choose to love, even when it hurts.
Please keep them in your prayers tonight. Pray for nourishing meals and safe places to rest. Pray for safety and protection. Pray that someone in their lives can show them real, true love.
Love always,
Meg
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