which seems like it leaves me hardly qualified to care so much for those children.
But I do.
Park Town North:
My VBS side of town.
I didn't know what to expect,
all I knew was that we were going to be doing Bible School for Hispanic children.
I wasn't picturing it like this; apartment building set up every which way, and a big 'park' in the middle with a big tree in the center.
Walking down to the tree, waving to people and saying 'Hola!', and I saw children were already there, waiting for us.
We walked door to door then, inviting more kids to come, and that was when I met my first kid, Ashley.
She wasn't quite like the other children; starved for attention and hardened,
hardened already at the age of six or seven.
She had a gentle spirit; swatting flies away from my face,
or singing Jingle Bells in
Spanish and just getting joy out of LIFE.
She traced me on the sidewalk and somehow got the idea
across to me that she wanted
to draw a princess dress and crown and shoes on me.
She doesn't deserve that life any more than I deserve this one.
She has a little sister named Yemi.
She's mischevious and adorable.
There's Emily . . .
bubbly and friendly,
but scared of keeping face paint on for fear of her mom
hitting her when she got home.
a Mowgli from the Jungle Book if there ever was one.
He's always running around in the background somewhere,
pouring water on people or scaring them.
But he has such a gentle heart,
and he's so precious.
There's Maria, who couldn't get over how short I was.
Maria: You're short, aren't you? You're the shortest one.
Me: Yes, I am.
Maria: (thinks a little) Do you eat vegetables?
. . . . . . .
So many little children starving for someone just to love them.
Even when I didn't know their language
(Me: [drawing a house, then saying proudly:] La Playa!
Blank stares from little kids trying to understand me.
I later find out that La Playa means the beach.)
I hope that they somehow understood how precious they were to me and God.
It's so hard to leave them, knowing the places they live and the things they're exposed to.
It's hard not to feel like loving on them was a waste of time,
and that it didn't really accomplish anything.
But I know that God is Good all the time,
and He loves them even more than I do.
I don't want to forget about them.
I'll keep praying for them;
pleading for their souls
and committing them to Him.
Because He can use the smallest,
seemingly worthless acts of kindness
to change their lives.
All He wants me to do is love them like Jesus.
Would you help me pray for them?
Sidie, Roberto, Andy, Kevin . . .
When asked what was one thing he had to be patient and wait for,
little Kevin said quietly:
"Waiting for you guys to knock on my door every day."
VBS is all those kids have to live for.
Help me pray?