There are a couple of things that happened on our trip that I have been working to process. Things that we did not get pictures of and even if we had they never could have captured what was really taking place.
One of them for me was a child at AHOPE. While the kids were for the most part kids. Some, like the little fellow whose name I just found out to be Moyasu, were happy to have a smile, hug, or a hand to hold. Others ignored you completely. But one child walked right up to me and when I offered my hand he just looked at me. That look is unphotographable, such deep sadness. Language was unimportant and for a brief moment I saw into his world. Probably 3 or 4 and HIV+, alone in a group of 45 others. No Mother to hold him when he scrapes his knee, no Dad to learn to wrestle with. He is shunned by his people and only a shadow of what God has created him to be. It was as if a simple touch by me would have broken loose all the terrible lose this small child has suffered. That he would have lost that small reserve that kept him functioning on a moment by moment bases. To be honest with you I am not sure what I am going to do with that memory.
The other situation was at a stop light, a girl around 10 years old came to Rob's window selling those little Kleenex's wrapped in plastic. She is perfect, beautiful, and sweet. "One Birr, tissue for you." She said, Rob gave her 4 Birr and told her to keep the tissue, "Thank you, oh, thank you" was her response as we were moving away. We ask our driver about her, "she is just another street child, but at least she isn't begging." "What will happen to her?" She will probably be mistreated, possibly abused and die of AIDS or some other sickness that we should be able to be prevented. Unphotographable.... Her eyes were so bright, her smile so sincere. Does she know the fate that awaits her, what is the hope that she clings too? Can I change the dark coarse that our driver just laid out as her probable life? I wanted to go back, to put her in the taxi with us, to bring her home. I want to change what is in her future, to give her a future. Instead I am left a world apart, thinking and praying for her, I am left wondering.... what do I do with these memories?
I do not want to forget them, I want to do something with them. To change the fates of children I do not know. To change the "Zeros" into faces, hopes, dreams, to make people see with their hearts. I can not do it alone, I can not change the fates of 143 Million children alone. I want to be part of an army, an army of caring people who are willing to do something, to make a difference, to think beyond our fears, to change the world one "zero" at a time.
One of them for me was a child at AHOPE. While the kids were for the most part kids. Some, like the little fellow whose name I just found out to be Moyasu, were happy to have a smile, hug, or a hand to hold. Others ignored you completely. But one child walked right up to me and when I offered my hand he just looked at me. That look is unphotographable, such deep sadness. Language was unimportant and for a brief moment I saw into his world. Probably 3 or 4 and HIV+, alone in a group of 45 others. No Mother to hold him when he scrapes his knee, no Dad to learn to wrestle with. He is shunned by his people and only a shadow of what God has created him to be. It was as if a simple touch by me would have broken loose all the terrible lose this small child has suffered. That he would have lost that small reserve that kept him functioning on a moment by moment bases. To be honest with you I am not sure what I am going to do with that memory.
The other situation was at a stop light, a girl around 10 years old came to Rob's window selling those little Kleenex's wrapped in plastic. She is perfect, beautiful, and sweet. "One Birr, tissue for you." She said, Rob gave her 4 Birr and told her to keep the tissue, "Thank you, oh, thank you" was her response as we were moving away. We ask our driver about her, "she is just another street child, but at least she isn't begging." "What will happen to her?" She will probably be mistreated, possibly abused and die of AIDS or some other sickness that we should be able to be prevented. Unphotographable.... Her eyes were so bright, her smile so sincere. Does she know the fate that awaits her, what is the hope that she clings too? Can I change the dark coarse that our driver just laid out as her probable life? I wanted to go back, to put her in the taxi with us, to bring her home. I want to change what is in her future, to give her a future. Instead I am left a world apart, thinking and praying for her, I am left wondering.... what do I do with these memories?
I do not want to forget them, I want to do something with them. To change the fates of children I do not know. To change the "Zeros" into faces, hopes, dreams, to make people see with their hearts. I can not do it alone, I can not change the fates of 143 Million children alone. I want to be part of an army, an army of caring people who are willing to do something, to make a difference, to think beyond our fears, to change the world one "zero" at a time.
1 comment:
http://abushel-and-apeck.blogspot.com/
Rob and Elissa! This blog site is a good friend of ours whose family has had multiple Ethiopian adoptions. I hope and pray all is going well with you! It has been a long time since we saw you last- LOTS of children ago, I think Elissa was pregnant with the first? I can't even remember how many kids Dave and I had at that point! We have entered the adventure that is Adoption as well! Grace and Peace! Carly Debevec
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