The Children

    Before I begin, I have a warning for you: there is no possible way to accurately convey what I experienced.  I have so many stories, but even if I could sit you down, if you could see my face and hear my voice, if you could feel the depth of emotion in me, even then you wouldn't understand.  Haiti is something that will never be experienced second-hand.  Even still, I'll do my best to recap. 
   Just for background information, we visited the children at the orphanage and feeding center multiple times during our visit.  The orphanage is pretty self explanatory but you may not know what the feeding center is.  Parents bring their children there when they can't feed them.  They leave them behind for six months and do not visit, the catholic nuns at the center give the children protein and special formulas to end their malnutrition.  Most of the children are sick as well; the workers take care of their diseases and treat them the best they can.  After their six months are up the children are returned to their parents, no matter their physical condition.  Usually the parents take them back, but not always.  If not, they are transferred to an orphanage. 
     So we spent three hours with these children four or five times while we were in Haiti, and suffice it to say we fell in love.  They have a love that exceeds all circumstance and joy that trumps all fear.  Most the children laugh and run and play... but not all.  There are those who won't play, who won't hug and sing.  My heart broke every time I looked at them because I knew.  I knew the reason they just sat: because something happened to them, so awful that they are too broken to accept love.  Those were the children I just wanted to pick up, squeeze, and tell how much I loved them, and how much Jesus did too.
    A few times I did just that.  Sometimes I was met with little response, but I broke through with one of my little friends named Kiki.  Not only was Kiki small, reserved, and sad-looking, he also was the center of the other children's teasing.  Now the bullying in Haiti is not nearly as bad as we see in America.  In general, the children respect each other quite well.  Kiki, however, was picked on.  I spent hours one day trying to get him to smile... without success.  That night there was a thunderstorm, and Kiki looked a bit frightened or at very least tired.  So I picked Kiki up and I held him.  I held him for a long while, singing softly, rocking him back and forth.  This was a nine year old boy that I was holding, rocking and comforting, but to me he was just a little baby who was never properly loved.  He went home shortly after the storm ended, and I made one of the older boys promise to walk him home safely.  I thought that might've been the end of Kiki, but the next day he returned with his sister.  This Kiki was not like the other.  He was still reserved and quiet, but he smiled more frequently and hesitated less. 

     Kiki was just one of the many children in Haiti with whom I fell in love, but he taught me a lesson.  The children of Haiti have beautiful souls, but they have incredible wounds.  Pursuing them is worth every risk, and every minute.  Kiki was much like we are in America, towards God.  He was wounded in the past.  It kept him from accepting and giving love freely.  He was too frightened to trust someone he didn't really know.  Yet just as I relentlessly pursued and love him, so God does with us.  He does not hesitate or hold back; He loves us with an undying passion.  All we have to do is let Him hold us to realize His perfect love, and our need for it.