Indelible

The beautiful children of this extraordinary country have affected me in ways I never anticipated. Visiting with them….spending time playing and talking with them….learning about them and the way they live….it’s something I can’t leave behind and I can’t forget.

I know it has something to do with my own little girl and the life I want for her. Honestly, I don’t know if the impact of the children of Belize would have been the same before I became a mother myself. I’m sure I would have felt a tug at my heart, but I doubt that it would have been something that lasted…something that changed me and the way I see the world….something that would make me cry when I said good-bye and for days after.

The morning after we visited an orphanage there in Belize, I broke. I had thought I handled it all pretty well, but when I slowed down and had time and energy to process what I had seen there, I couldn’t bear it. I wept, sobbing big alligator tears as I thought of the conditions those children were waking up in that morning and the life they’d return to that afternoon once they got “home” from school. It broke my heart, and I wrote in my journal as I thought about it:

It’s so amazing to think that those children can find any reason to smile, but they were. (Most of them. The ones that weren’t….. Heartbreaking.) I’m sitting here enjoying the morning quiet, swaying in a hammock, listening to the birds and anticipating my breakfast, and those children – all 38 of them – are waking up in that this morning. Narrow hallways, crowded rooms, tiny breakfast… I’ll bet no one will hug them and kiss them before they leave for school this morning, and no one will be genuinely happy to see them when they get home this afternoon. And to think…their parents – most of them – chose to send them there. Their intentions may have been good, trying to make sure they got adequate food and a bed and an education, but what about their other needs? What about their little hearts? What about the people they will become as a result? No love….those kids have food in their bellies (barely) but are absolutely starved for love. They jump on and cling to affection as though their lives depend on it. Really, they do. They’re dying inside. And how often am I grumpy with Leah? How quickly do I get angry or upset with her? I’d give anything to hug her this morning. I’m so ashamed… Forgive me, Lord. Help me remember those children when I get home and the days are long and I just want 8:00 to come so I can get Leah to bed. Remind me to give her a few extra hugs in those moments. Somehow let those kids feel love every time I kiss or hug Leah. Please take care of those kids, Lord. Let your Spirit surround them and fill the gaps their lives have opened up.

I’ve read those words dozens of times since I’ve been home, because honestly, I’ve needed to be reminded. I’ve needed to remember. I’ve needed to take myself back to that place to feel those feelings and cry those tears again. I’m so grateful that I have my journal with me in those moments – both to help me cope with emotions that threaten to overtake me and to help me remember God’s grace when I look back.

I don’t pretend to understand the choices the people of Belize and similar countries have to make. I don’t pretend that after visiting for one week, I have a full picture of their lives and the decisions they have to make to survive. I can’t pretend either, though, that I was unchanged by what I saw and what I felt.

Those children have made a mark on my life. It’s like something written with magic ink. You know something is there….there is a message there somewhere, even though it hasn’t materialized yet and therefore can’t have its full impact yet. The letters are beginning to appear…and I don’t know yet what they will say, but I do know that their message is one that isn’t fading anytime soon. I have been forever changed by the mark of those children on my life.