home

This is the gate of Nuestros Pequeños Hermanos Dominican Republic. Over 200 children who have been orphaned or abandoned live here. This place is home to me. The first time I came through those doors I had no idea my life was going to change. I was a comfortable (unsuspecting) white 13 year old from North America, living with everything I needed and much more. I had no idea that the stories I could see in the eyes of the 200 beautiful children that I was to meet would completely wreck my idea of a "normal" life. I heard stories of lives ruined by the choices of their families, inherited disease, and unavoidable poverty. How could someone possibly not want their child? How could you ever walk away from one desperately calling to be loved? Why does a child pay for the mistakes of their parents? The cycle of poverty and signs of the fall surrounded me. These were not numbers and statistics. These were real children with real faces and real hands to be held. I loved every second of it. 

For years I prayed for these kids and for years I have seen them grow. Almost 7 years later, I am still so in love with this country. I love walking down the dirt roads and finding familiar faces. I love being in the city and seeing the people overflowing with life. I love the kids who want nothing more than for you to look into their eyes, hold their hands, laugh, and listen to them.

There is one thing I have not found here. Hopelessness. The unbelievable, painful stories I have heard here share one thing- they're not finished. Over 200 children behind this door have not at all deserved the way that life has treated them. But all 200 of them will run and laugh and play in hope of a better tomorrow. They dream, they smile, they love. From my North American eyes, they shouldn't. They cannot sit back and pretend the past didn't happen. They can't possibly find a way to justify their hurt. But they only move forward. The kids in this place have shown me over and over again what strength is. Strength is the ability to dream of what's coming, not hold on to what happened. Strength is a choice. It's not complicated. Strength is choosing to see the good that may come tomorrow, not the pain that happened yesterday. They have decided that this is not where the story ends. They know that they are who they are- they are not what has happened to them. These kids have been my safe place and my home for years. Home is a face, not a place.

I cannot say this enough. They are NOT statistics. They are lives made in the image of the One True King who gave everything to walk with them on these dirt roads. His heart hurts as theirs do when they remember their pasts and their pain. As comfortable and at home I feel in this place, I never get used to the reality surrounding me. I pray I never do. I have cried so many tears over children who's stories have broken my heart. The stories have never begun to sound the same. Sure, there are cycles that continue and repeat themselves, but each soul and life are different and seen as beautifully unique in the eyes of the Father who created them. He did not create anyone to be without what they need. He did not design the hurt and the pain they would feel. He has never become numb, ignored them, or pretended they didn't exist. How could I?

This is a dangerous place. I have come and all I have has been stolen from me. My heart and all my love has been given to these children and these people. But as I have poured out all I have, I always leave so much more full. A candle does not lose light from lighting another.

The sun shines brighter here.