[Written Sunday]
I sat on the bathroom floor, tears streaming down my face, pleading with God to bring healing. Heal the hearts of the little girls and boys whose families didn’t come today, or who don’t have families at all. Heal the hearts of children whose families did come, and then had to leave two hours later. Heal the heart of the girl who sat with the mother who continually abused her and listened to lies. Heal the heart of the girl whose mother came for the first time in five months, but was too concerned with her blackberry to speak to her. Heal their hearts. Heal my heart. It was my first official World Race breakdown.
Fair warning:
When you ask God to break your heart for what breaks His, you better be prepared to hurt.
Today was family visitation day at the orphanage. After lunch, families from the local church the kids attend started showing up with snacks, movies, and smiles. It was a huge blessing to have their presence here to help make the day as uplifting as possible. They brought out a small snack or drink every half hour or so, played with the kids who didn’t have families here, and stood by ready to give hugs, kisses and encouraging words each time a child came in the door after saying goodbye with tears in their eyes.
I stood at the window and watched as families streamed through the gates and settled into the chairs set up in circles on the carport. Each time a new family member arrived, another child’s name was called. Some sprinted out the door into the arms of their mom or dad or grandmother or sister. Others reluctantly shuffled out with their heads down. One refused to leave the house.
After watching a few of my teammates take the lead, I timidly stepped out the door to meet the families. I wasn’t sure how to interact. What do you say to the mother who left scars on her daughter’s face? Or to the father who has abandoned his children? Or to the mom whose daughter was found living on the streets with nothing – not even clothes?
So what did I say?
I told them that I love their children very much.
And that God does too.
And I did a lot of nodding and smiling.
And I walked away to cry in the bathroom.
One of the most frustrating things about God breaking my heart for the needs in the world is the feeling that I can’t do anything about it. But that’s also one of the most beautiful things. Because the truth is, I can’t. But the hope is the fact that He can. And He’s chosen to use me as an instrument in that. So now I have to figure out how to offer my hands and feet and lips to do the work, even when I feel so broken that I think I can’t function. I have to learn to live in the hope.
Right now outside my window I hear nothing but laughter and squeals and the sound of joy. There is a basketball game going on. All of the kids are in their Sunday best, playing with the families from church. And as I look out I see smiles and energy and bright eyes. No tears. It was a hard afternoon, but in just an hour, hope has taken over for now.
Will there be more tears? Of course. But in the midst of it, There's also HOPE.
We’re learning to live in it.
