Tugging at the Heart

August 16, 2010,

This afternoon I went with Kathryn and a family visiting from the United States to the government run children's home here in San Salvador that is like the first string of defense. When children are taken from there home, they usually end up at this group home before being placed in another temporary or permanent home. It is somewhat the equivalent of Child Protective Services. The children come and go so quickly that the staff doe not generally learn their names and little is done to work with them on their feelings and fears with being uprooted from their home and sent to an unknown place. Today we took crayons and coloring books with us to the home and ended up hanging out with the pre-schoolers and older girls with babies. I was interacting with two young boys who were clearly brothers and I noticed an older girl who was carrying for them. She said that they were her brothers. She is the oldest of seven children and they had all arrived there at CIPI this past Friday, or about 3 days ago. As I heard this part of her story, my heart hurt for her and her siblings. I had a feeling it was a pretty abrupt evacuation from their home. The little three or four year old boy, kept mentioning to me that his mommy and daddy were not there. Both of the boys had rather blond hair which in Latin America often reveals malnutricion because it is not the normal hair color.

After a while the one year old began crying and wanting his sister's attention. Because I doubted that she ever had much opportunity to be a child and color or do whatever, I offered to hold the little boy if it was okay with her. She nodded her head and so I picked him up. He immediately began wailing even more but I started walking with him and singing and just as quickly he quieted down. I probably walked for a good 30 minutes back and forth on the porch where we were, singing quietly to him. It reminded me of Honduras and singing to little Lisbeth. Though my arm ached by the time I returned him to his sister, I was thankful for that time with the little boy. It was a time to pray for he and his siblings. When I hear stories such as the ones of these children, there is a desire in my heart to take them all in to live with me. It would be impossible I know, but I also know that it is very unllikely that they will be placed together in the same children's home or in a foster home. I pray that their story will have a happy ending and that they will know Jesus love. Little Issac heard about it this afternoon though he is probably too young to understand.