A Face on the Border...

Two weeks ago today, I found myself face to face with a little girl who would capture my heart in a matter of moments.  Her name was Kimberly Naomi and I haven't been able to forget her.  We were day 8 of our mission trip to Honduras when our paths crossed at the children's orphanage.  It was my 10th time in Honduras, so going to the orphanages had not only become familiar to me, but visiting them was something I looked forward to.

This visit to the orphanage was different though.  I now was the mother of a child adopted from a place very similar to the one I found myself standing in.  As I watched my teens ventured into this institutional like setting, one that housed children from all different walks of life, one that had a room full of special needs children, one that had children over the age of 12 who were confined to beds, one that was filled with children who had been abused, neglected and abandoned, I was struck by the beauty that unfolded as they embraced the babies and children living there as though they were their own siblings.  In those moments I found myself thankful for the many people who held my child as he waited for his forever family, choosing to be the hands and feet of Jesus.

I have never been a natural when it comes to babies.  Let's be honest, the first real diaper I changed was last year, in Ethiopia, on day one with Biruk (you will have to see the video for that one).  So, when we walk into the orphanages and everyone races to pick up the 9 and 10 day old babies, I am the one looking for the kid who doesn't look fragile.  That day was no different.  I just didn't know that the kid I would pick would have such a fragile heart.

I noticed her sitting in her crib staring into the distance.  My friend Sandy was sitting on the floor next to her crib, holding a small child who we would find out later was her twin sister.  I knelt down beside her and began talking to her in Spanish.  I asked her name.  I asked her how old she was.  I asked her if she wanted to play.  No response.  Sandy said, "Just pick her up."  I wasn't really sure how she would react to a stranger picking her up out of her crib and didn't want to scare her, but I also saw the lifelessness in her eyes and knew she needed to know she had not been forgotten.  So I picked her up.

She melted in my arms.  I stood there with her arms wrapped around my neck and just held her.  She didn't say a word.  She just allowed herself to be held.  After about 30 minutes, I felt myself struggling to hold this 3 year old.  I decided to sit down on the ground with her.  She stayed in my arms and then something began to happen.  Her big brown eyes looked up at me.  She started giggling.  She touched my face.  She showed me her shoes.  She eventually let her guard down and allowed me into her little world for just a few minutes.  For a few minutes she was reminded that she has not been forgotten.

As I sat on the floor, one of the workers began to share her story.  Kimberly and her twin sister (age 3), and their 18 month old brother had been sent with a coyote (a human trafficker) in attempts to make it across the border in the United States.  The coyote was most likely paid around $75 by their mother to attempt this.  In the end, Kimberly and her siblings were caught at the Mexico border and were brought back to the orphanage in Honduras in hopes that their family would come for them.  As of today, no one has come.

For the past several months, the border crisis has been at the forefront of our news.  As I have read article after article reminding me that over 50,000 children have attempted to cross the border just in the last 9 months (and that number continues to increase), most from Central America, its left me feeling overwhelmed.  Honduras has become a second home to me.  The people I have met in Honduras have literally changed my perspective on life.  They have taught me what it means to love unconditionally, what it means to worship God without reservation, and what it means to serve as though your life depends on it.  For some, these are their children who are flocking to the borders. For others, these are their family members and their friends who have felt such a state of desperation that they are willing to do what it takes for hope.  The statistics that we keep reading about and hearing about and highlighting in our news are more than just numbers.  They represent faces.  Names.  Hopes.  Dreams.

Holding Kimberly that day in the orphanage reminded me of that.

To be honest, I have no idea how to help.  I don't know what God is calling to me to personally do.  I have been thinking about that the past two weeks.  I have tried to forget about what I saw.  I have tried to forget about the face of the child who captured my heart.  I have tried to forget about the fact that I left her sitting on the orphanage floor next to her twin sister as we had to walk out that day.  I have tried to forget the lifeless look on her face.  But I can't.

I believe God allows us to see the brokenness in our world that he sees on a daily basis because he wants us to understand and get his heart.  But I don't think it stops there.  We are then called to do something about what we see.  Part of that is being a voice and telling the story.  Part of that is praying for the people we have seen.  Part of that is listening...and then responding as he shows us what we can do about it.  Part of it is figuring out how to respond with the love and compassion that God has responded to us with.  Part of it is recognizing that when God allows us to see something we now have a responsibility to act.   I don't know where God is going to lead me on this one, but I know one thing.

I don't want to forget her.