I wrote this last Saturday...
I'm sitting up in my room, blogging and attempting to get over this sinus infection. My large picture window overlooks the front gate. While it means I get to catch first glimpses of everyone who comes in and out of the orphanage, it also means I often miss the excitement of watching the children playing in the futbol field or on the playground.
Life in another country comes with a myriad of unfamiliar smells and sounds, and life at an orphanage filled with children is certainly no exception.
This morning, I heard a small scratching noise. Repetitive plastic on concrete. I rose from my bed to the window to investigate and discovered sweet Jorge, on his hands and knees, determinedly pushing a tiny toy trick down the footpath towards the front gate. Crawling through the dirt, he is alone, but content. After what seems like forever, he finally reaches the gate. His world ends here. He can go no further.
What is the future like for these kids? Where will they go? Some of the lucky ones will be adopted, sure. But what about those who aren't? They live here, inside these walls - their lives a constant fluctuation of well-meaning volunteers who love them deeply, but eventually leave to return to their homes once their tour of service is complete. How many people have come into their lives, only to leave again?
While I know this is truly a Home for Hope - a respite from whatever horrors existed for these precious children beyond our protective boundary (and I could certainly tell you stories)- I can't help but feel the weight of a world where a place like this is even necessary.
Lord, only You can offer true freedom. Freedom which surpasses our circumstances and extends far beyond our physical limitations. Pour out Your love on these children. I know they are far more precious to You than anyone.