I am not sure why. Their story is no more tragic and sadder than that of any of our other children.
Maybe it was because of how recently their mother, died. The day we met them and brought them home was the “Oitavo Dia”. This is the ceremony held eight days after a burial where the family members re-visit the grave of their lost loved one to remember them and place flowers on their grave. This means that their mother would have died only about ten days before I met them. Knowing this alone made me weep for them. It left me feeling raw and hollow for them.
Maybe it was because of the numerous family members who assembled that day in a circle to meet and question us. They wanted the best for these children, but not one of them have the ability to bring them into their already impoverished homes. They can barely feed themselves and keep themselves alive. None could take in three more mouths to feed. But they for sure wanted to be certain that we could take care of the children.
They had many questions and concerns. Delcio and I responded to them all. What convinced them most were the photos. I showed them photos of our current families and of the transformation of our Sunshine children from the day we collected them and then the difference in them less than two weeks later when I took another photo. Delcio and I told them about our children who are now succeeding in university, secondary school, and primary school. We told them about our oldest, Cecilia, who is soon to graduate university and has a position with a local law firm. With each photo and story we shared, they visibly relaxed. They rejoiced with smiles and comments about how amazing it all is. And finally, they agreed that the children will be well cared for in our Sunshine Approach program.
And then…we shared a meal. Again, I apologize for repeating myself from previous blogs, but there is no more humbling experience than to share a meal offered to you by people who have absolutely nothing. As we drank tea and ate the bread and salad offered to us in reused Styrofoam take-away containers, I was overwhelmed with so many emotions that I cannot even put words to. I am at a loss right now to put any of this into words.
Maybe my struggle is because accepting these children into our care will be a huge step of faith for us. We already have so many children and mothers to care for. Taking on three more when our budget is already stretched was a hard decision to make. When I received the message from Delcio about the need these three children had, I cried. I never want to be in a position where I have to turn orphaned children away. But with our current financial constraints, I was not sure we could afford them any more than their family could. But I really felt like God was telling me to test Him and see how only He can provide.
Maybe my sore heart comes from seeing the older 20-year-old sister, Olga, on this day as she presented to us the story of the children and shared with us the documents she had for them. She was so composed and well spoken, so elegant, so strong…but inside, I knew that her heart was also breaking. She has nowhere to go and is too old for anyone to take her in and care for her. She has cared for her three younger siblings for the past year during their mother’s illness. Today, she was releasing them into our care because she knew that their opportunity for a better life lies in our means and abilities, and not hers. She will now be left alone, all alone, to make her way in this horribly challenging and ugly third-world country we live in.
Maybe it was seeing how strong the eldest of the three children was as she stood by her older sister. This little 11-year-old girl had just lost her mother. She was now about to lose her older sister too. She knew exactly why we were there. She stood alongside her older sister, not shedding a tear, not showing any emotion at all. But I did notice that occasionally she reached over with her hand and gently touched the edges of the capulana her sister wore around her waist. Just to let her sister know she was there.
Maybe it was looking in my rearview mirror and seeing the tears fall down the cheeks of the older sister in the backseat as we drove away after leaving the children in their new home with their new family. Her sister would now be returning to an empty room that she rents. It will be silent. She will be alone. My task now is to determine how we can also help her.
Maybe it was learning that not one of these children have had the opportunity to go to school. Their feet have not set foot inside of a classroom. An education is the most basic of rights for children all over the world, but here in Mozambique it is not a right, it is a privilege. One that far too many children do not receive. How sad that my own children fought and argued and complained about going to school when other children are denied this opportunity. We really do not know at all how privileged we are. My staff and I now have a challenge ahead of us to educate these children and catch them up with their peers.
Maybe it was seeing what little they personally owned in the blue plastic bag they brought with them. Bless their sweet hearts…they had so little. Their bag of clothing consisted of worn out, dirty, tattered items. There was not a single pair of underwear or socks for any of them.
Any time we drive home with any new, precious little ones in our car, I am overwhelmed by the weighty responsibility of what I am taking on. Yet with this recent experience, I am feeling it all the more.
As with all of our children, my joy has come from seeing these three children blossom over the past few days. Above is the photo of when we brought them to their new home and to meet their new house mother, Ester. The photo below I took yesterday, only four days later…
Over the past few days, seeing their smiles and the light in their eyes, hearing their laughter, and feeling their tight hugs when they greet me has helped to heal my heart. It just now occurred to me as I am writing about this experience…how odd it is… that we brought these children to our Sunshine family to heal their hearts…but they have healed mine! Tatiana, age 11, Tanay, age 8, and Gildo, age 6, are already being used by God to impact lives, my life in particular. May God give us all the wisdom and resources we will need to grow them into the amazing adults He has purposed them to be.
