A tiny hand squeezes mine as we walk through the village on the outskirts of Quelimane, Mozambique. As we walk from hut to hut visiting the village people and children who are in need of help, this hand never loses its grip with mine. Every day as the morning sun arises this little boy greets our team awaiting for us in the palm trees. He starts with a small wave and slowly he moves closer to us as he gains his bravery. This little boy whose tummy hurts from worms, who lives in hut made of sticks and mud, whose little orange overalls suffocate his body in the summer heat, who needs are so great, and I am left wondering what can I offer him?
This seems to be the never ending pattern of seeing hurting children on the World Race. Their needs are more than I can give. Their hunger won’t end when we leave and cannot sneak them our portions of rice anymore. Their hearts will still ache for parents who are either dead, have abandoned them, or work long hours into the night to provide for them, and yet it’s still not enough. What do I have to offer them Lord?
It all began in month one in South Africa where there were the two orphaned girls who were filled with joy from a couple handfuls of popcorn while we watched Harry Potter. Then in month two in Swaziland we were on top of a mountain at a children’s center filled with fifty-two orphan children. One night in particular we had a worship service with all the children and there was eight year old boy crawled into my lap just wanting to be held. And now in month three, the little boy who follows us around and holds our hands throughout the day while his grandparents work the fields and his mom is too sick to rise from bed. As we go along the number of children hurting just seems to be increasing and I still wonder what can I offer them Lord?
Every month I am going to be seeing children like Julio, the little boy who holds my hand, and know that I can’t offer them the world I want to. I can’t make sure their tummy’s have food for the rest of their lives. I can’t wrap my arms around them during all the nights they need comfort. I can’t hold their hands for as long as I want. But while I am in each place and in each month I can give them one simple thing, love.
So while I am here in Mozambique, I will continue to wave to Julio when I first see his face. I will walk with him hand in hand through the village. And I will wrap him in my arms showing him what a motherly hug feels like. Because the one thing and the most important thing the Lord has given me to offer him and everyone I meet on this journey is love.
