I’m not sure what I expected but I know for a fact that I wasn’t ready of my first trip to a state operated orphanage. As we pulled into the compound surrounded by high walls topped with bobbed wire I saw them; a flowing river of anticipating eager little ones. They had no idea what our plans were for the morning or what “precious” cargo we carried; they only knew there was a bus load of people for them. For the moment, they would be special and the center of attention. For this morning it was all about them. Some of the children with darkened eyes and already firm scowls stayed their distance, while others moved in quickly greeting the disembarking bus riders quickly claiming a heart and a hand; yet others shyly waited in the shadows, desiring to be chosen.
With supplies unloaded our medical team went to work, the puppeteers set up stage, sound plugged in, the barber started shaving heads, while everyone else scattered to rooms and areas with children. I lost Maritza to the baby room as soon as her feet touch the ground. That’s where she met “David” The care provider did not know his name. Like most infants in the orphanages here David was abandoned. I called him David after the child no one considered who became a man after God’s own heart, a king, a leader, a worshipper – David!
Every room with children filled with laughter, hugs, merriment, and care… except one. The room with the padlock. These were the children who were determined to have severe mental and emotional problems… padlock, fenced window, isolated from others, a hole to view the world through. A few members of our team pushed small stuffed animals through the fist sized hole in the door. I saw a child share his drink with the occupants by turning his cup up to the hole pouring its contents through as eager lips caught the drink before it hit the floor. I kept thinking “this is better than being homeless right?”
The puppet show, singing, music, dancing, treats, gifts, hugs and love was all we could do for the moment in that moment. We drove away and they stayed; the iron doors closed and locked keeping in, keeping out, keeping secrets.
I have not felt this was since my 1st trip to Haiti in 1997 when in Citi Soli, a community where raw sewage ran down the streets in front of make shift houses built on a dump, a little girl with too big red shoes ripped my heart. I shed tears but for what purpose; frustration, shame, greater brokenness, or am I angry again? It was never God’s plan for government to take care of orphans – it’s the responsibility of the church… we missed it! Now David, Sparkle (in the pictures she is the one with the close-up of her face) and countless others are suffering in third world like modern day 1920 throw back “asylums” – because we missed it. One of the next phases of Tree of Life Ministry here in Honduras is an orphanage… God give us grace and favor that building and operation will proceed rapidly and God grant mercy for your children.
