“We cry because you hurt.”

Its been too long since I have blogged. I am sorry. 

Earlier this week I had a cute little blog planned out about my whole month of October and how crazy and exciting and lovable it has been. But then tonight happened and this is a story that needs to be told. Or maybe I just need to tell it. Maybe its a grieving process for me. Thanks for listening either way.

In a brief summary of recent activities, the Filipino workers left for a two day retreat. Leaving my team and a few World Race teams in charge of an orphanage of 30ish children. Oh and they don’t have school. These 30 children have been my life for the past 48 long-hours. Every hour, every minute, every second a child is on my lap, or getting in trouble or asking for something. 

Tonight after dinner, I noticed one of the girls sitting alone in the middle of the yard. I walked over and sat down with her. She looked up at me and asked me to listen.

Listen. Something I had not done in a long time, 48- hours to be exact. With 30 kids yelling every second, you forget how to listen. So I stopped and listened. Faint in the distance, beyond the yelling of the young boys playing basketball was a band playing worship music. 

I looked over at her and with broken English she started telling me her story. 

I can’t adequately do her story justice. But what happened next I can. As I sat there listening to this 15-year-old pour her heart out, a 5-year old girl came and climbed on my lap. After telling her we were being quiet and listening she snuggled in and listened to the story being shared. Then a 10-year old girl came over with the same routine. And finally a 9-year old boy came over and followed suit (which was rare because this was a high-energy, trouble-making young boy). 

I sat with the four of them, half on my lap and listened as they told me about their lives. Death, Murder, Divorce, Sickness, Abandonment, Loneliness. Their stories contained all of the above. By the middle of the conversation, I could no longer hold in tears. 

When they looked at me confused by my tears, I told them I hurt because they hurt. They wiped away my tears looked at me and finally said, “tita, tell us your story.”

In the best way I could to this wide age range of children, I told my story. I got to the end. The part where Jesus saved my life, and eventually brought me to the Philippines, and they looked up at me with tears rolling down their face. When I told them, “its okay, Jesus won in the end.” They told me, “yes tita, we cry because you hurt.”

So they snuggled close to my chest, and we sat there, 4 Flipinos and me sitting in the grass, in the dark, listening to the sounds of Manila. 

About 2 minutes later it was time for devotions, in typical missionary style I walked inside to realize no one had a devotion planned. I knew immediately it was time to share. I walked to the front and quieted the 20 kids who are 5 years and older, and told about my favorite subject… Hope. 

I shared that we get to hope every morning because God is has new mercies in every sunrise. And the pain of yesterday, and the pain of today is okay because we get to hope in tomorrow. 

There were 20 kids in that room. I don’t think most of them understood what I was saying. But there were 4 young children with eyes fixed on every word I said. Pain near to their eyes, knowing the words I said about hope, were directly for them. 

After devotions, cartoons were turned on. The 15-year old girl and 9-year old boy came up to sit by me. About 2 minutes after the cartoons started they asked me to go back to the grass and tell more stories. 

So we did. We spent the next hour telling stories about our lives. Then about the Bible. Talking. Listening. and just Being with each other. 

Because pain and carrying burdens knows no age. Tonight, my 9-year old brother in Christ and my 15-year old sister in Christ carried my burdens and I carried theirs. We hurt together. We listened together. We loved together.

.amen.