The Neighbors

Okay, back to South Africa. If you read my post about Esther, you remember I said she lived in a "duplex" with 3 doors...well, today you will meet her neighbors to the left. I don't know their names, but their faces are burned in my memory forever.

I'm not even sure how many people lived in that house. The first day we came it was like a ghost town. There were 3 little boys outside, playing in the dirt, with no adults to be found. Several times I had to run and grab the littlest one before he crawled off a concrete ledge. These children were terrified of us. They would just sit in the dirt and stare blindly ahead...no emotion...not even fear. It was terrifying how empty those eyes were. It literally disturbed me and sent cold chills up my spine. It was like their bodies were alive, but their spirits were slowly dying...much like what you see in orphanages when children are left in cribs all day with no human touch...except these weren't orphans.

As we were talking to Esther, she told us one of the boys, the middle one, had a sore on his lower abdomen. Esther went and found his mother and she brought the boy to us. Now there was fear...he was petrified of us, screaming and flailing. I fought tears, knelt in front of him, and tried to establish eye contact...he fought, I fought harder, finally he allowed his dark, beautiful eyes to lock with mine..."Okay," I thought to myself, "I see you in there, little buddy."

Slowly I inched towards him and put my arms around him while his mother jerked at his clothes to show us the sore. I wanted to scream at her, "Can't you see he's scared?! Slow down! Be gentle!" Of course I didn't. The sore was bad, oozing and infected. We put some medicine on it and told his mother he needed to go to the clinic ASAP. She wasn't really listening or concerned. I fought tears again. Then, I prayed over him, asking the Lord to heal his sore. Then we left. We prayed for the oppression of those children to be lifted as we walked away...and throughout the day. I grieved for their lost childhood...the thought of them sitting in the dirt day in and day out shook me to my core.

Fast forward to the next day. As we walk up the hill I'm bracing myself for what I will find. It's pretty bad at first. Two little boys sharing a chicken bone for breakfast...yes, a bone. Then I get some perspective through my western eyes and say, "Thank you, Lord for providing food for them today." After all, thousands of children die from hunger each day. The Lord is stretching me. Ouch, it hurts.

After a few minutes, I start to see smiles. Giggles, even. They want to play. So do I. We play with my sunglasses, stickers, and a book I've brought with me. The oldest boy starts to talk as I read to him...in English. He can count to 10! He knows his colors! He loves hugs! His smile would light up the darkest cave. My heart soars. Where is his mother? The middle boy still hasn't been taken to the clinic for the sore. Esther says it's better since we prayed for him. We keep praying. His mother, who hasn't hardly looked at me over the hour I've been playing with her children, leans over and whispers in my ear, "I like you." My soul sings. "I love you," I tell her.

Then we spend some time explaining to her why it's so important to play with her boys...to talk to them...read to them...count and sing...hug and love. God is using all the developmental/attachment reading I had to do for our adoption for these 3 little ones in South Africa. He is a big God. "They are smart," I tell her. Her soul sings. We leave the book for them and pray as we wave goodbye. That was the last day I saw those boys. Why?

Day 3...no one is home...they are at the clinic. Yes!

I wish I could describe the difference in those boys from the first to the second day, but there's no way to accurately do so. All I can say is their spirits came alive with a little love and attention. Children are so resilient. I don't even know their names, but I will never forget their faces. It gives me comfort to know that God knows the number of hairs on their heads. He made them for His glory, and He loves them beyond measure. That is the only way I could walk away from them...because I know the God who made them. There seems to be no end to the suffering in Africa, but God is bigger.

Meet my little friends...

The first day.

They wouldn't even look at us.

Reading on the next day.

I couldn't get him out of my lap...which was fine with me. I love how I look with an African child...hint, hint!

They shared a bowl of "pup" for lunch (it tastes like a mixture of mashed potatoes and grits). It's very cheap and fills the tummy and therefore a staple of their diets.

They gobbled it up and licked the bowl...no whining about food here.

Sticker fun!

This is all they had to sit on outside.

The oldest...very much a caregiver.

The middle brother.

And the baby.