It’s Orphan Sunday. My friend in real life Laura and I decided to do a guest post on each other’s blogs today. Laura and her family are missionaries in Thailand. They run an orphanage for abandoned girls. They are an incredible family with hearts of gold–willing to let their answer to the Lord alsways be “Yes and Amen”–no matter what the cost. I love Laura so much. She is a true treasure in the Kingdom of God. Our hearts are knit by the love we share for the fatherless.
I watched her tonight out at the orphanage. A five-year-old body and a twenty-something-soul–though the age on her legal papers claims ten. She ran out, clutching a blue worn teddy bear in dark brown hands. It was the quality of toy handed over at a fair after winning a 50- cent game of darts. But, she doesn’t care, because it is hers.
And an older girl takes it away.
Because even the cheap and the worn are treasures on this patch of soil.
And I stumble through my newly-acquired Thai with someone else, but I watch from the corner of my eye–the two girls and the bear. The owner whines and chases. But the older is too fast, too quick, too powerful. She acts play, but the younger isn’t buying it. This is her treasure, after all. And I watch the little victim glance for help; I watch her call for someone older to Rescue.
But she’s on her own.
So she picks up a rock. She yells. She throws. Hard. And she misses. And fills her hands with another.
And then I intervene in broken tongue. The sought-after lovey is returned to younger hands with a gentle, “Not kind,” to the older. And the next rock is tossed back to the dirt. For now.
But I am left wondering if the mini-drama just witnessed is a true picture of the orphan-story. She feels powerless and weak, unable to fight for herself. And she looks around for someone bigger to Rescue.
But there is no one who comes.
And so she picks up a rock. She learns to fight for herself. She dries her tears, and she grows older,too early.
And I wonder how a childhood full of these moments affects her heart. I wonder how it translates into the way she views God and others. I imagine the sweetness of the Rescue, should it come for this little one, in the form of a family who loves, anyway. And I wonder what her fight will look like in future years, should the only father known be a Heavenly One.
And surrounded by the chattering of little-girl voices and the sticky Tropical heat, I’m left asking, grieving, doubting, broken.
I’m broken for the reality that is her world, and I’m left scanning the horizon for God’s rescue, for her.
But I’m left believing, too. I’m left believing that Rescue can take a hundred different faces and that the God who sees this orphan, loves her like mad–even when she’s throwing rocks.
Their ministry is always in need of sponsors and many other things. So many of the precious girls who live there are still in need of someone to sponsor them. This is their website at Breanna’s House of Joy. We are not all called to bring children into our home through adoption, but we ARE all called to do something to help the orphan crisis.