I know their names now... I have seen them several times. Outside church, waiting for people to leave so they can collect a few rupees. They are a little band made up of friends and siblings. It started off with one ice cream cone, and now I have six new friends. The other day, One came and found me, but I don't know how, although a white girl is not that hard to spot. They call me Joy. Either that's what they think my name is, or they can't say Jordan. It doesn't matter. They could call me whatever they want to, as long as they let me spend time with them.
It's just buying ice cream. It's just a few oreos after church. But it's so much more than that. It's showing them they have value. I care enough to remember their names, to hug them. I'm not afraid of their dirt. I want to hold their hands. Allwoing them to sit with me in a cool place, a place they are normally not allowed to go. They matter. They have names. I give them treats, time... they give me so much more.
She wears a red string around her arms and neck with amulets. She has such large brown eyes... almost too big for her face. Her family is obviously devout Hindu. Trying to protect her from evil, demons, and spirits. Oh, I wish they knew how useless those charms are. She has such a beautiful little smile, such a tiny little body. She knows all of the songs by heart. She listened intently to the Bible story. I watched as she folded her hands to pray, lips moving as others led. The Kingdom is in her eyes. I can see it... God, let her grow.
He coughed throughout Sunday School. He couldn't weigh more than 30 pounds. I held him in my arms, asked his name, laid my hands on my bony chest framed by visible ribs, and I prayed. He says he is taking medicine. I pray against the disease. He is so shy, so cute, obviously not used to attention. Adorable. I kiss him on the cheek, and he blushes as much as an Indian boy can.
They weren't there today... two little girls, little faces that I memorized. One is in danger, one whose story I don't know. But I missed them. I wanted them. I pray they're just getting ready for school. Please God, nothing more.
How do I explain this to you? There is such an awareness of life and death on this side of the world. Such an awareness of eternity where every moment counts. Every word spoken can bring a blessing or a curse. Every prayer uttered with purpose. My little ones...
It's just buying ice cream. It's just a few oreos after church. But it's so much more than that. It's showing them they have value. I care enough to remember their names, to hug them. I'm not afraid of their dirt. I want to hold their hands. Allwoing them to sit with me in a cool place, a place they are normally not allowed to go. They matter. They have names. I give them treats, time... they give me so much more.
She wears a red string around her arms and neck with amulets. She has such large brown eyes... almost too big for her face. Her family is obviously devout Hindu. Trying to protect her from evil, demons, and spirits. Oh, I wish they knew how useless those charms are. She has such a beautiful little smile, such a tiny little body. She knows all of the songs by heart. She listened intently to the Bible story. I watched as she folded her hands to pray, lips moving as others led. The Kingdom is in her eyes. I can see it... God, let her grow.
He coughed throughout Sunday School. He couldn't weigh more than 30 pounds. I held him in my arms, asked his name, laid my hands on my bony chest framed by visible ribs, and I prayed. He says he is taking medicine. I pray against the disease. He is so shy, so cute, obviously not used to attention. Adorable. I kiss him on the cheek, and he blushes as much as an Indian boy can.
They weren't there today... two little girls, little faces that I memorized. One is in danger, one whose story I don't know. But I missed them. I wanted them. I pray they're just getting ready for school. Please God, nothing more.
How do I explain this to you? There is such an awareness of life and death on this side of the world. Such an awareness of eternity where every moment counts. Every word spoken can bring a blessing or a curse. Every prayer uttered with purpose. My little ones...
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