The sound brought a river to my eyes, but they did not see it. I entered one room and within seconds I was the caretaker to 10 orphan babies. I was given their ceral, a spoon and fed them with a smile. As I used my right hand to feed one baby, my left hand was being chewed on by the other. I couldn't feed them fast enough...they were too hungry and they cried. Then my tears began...I was utterly broken.
The internal questions vocalized in a scream from a baby that can't form words ask, "Where is my mother? Where is my father? Does anyone hear me? Does anybody see me? Will anyone love me?"
To hold them is like holding an anchor with it's sinking weight. It is not the normal hug, squeeze or touch from a child. There is a desperatation pressing against you never wanting to let go. There is a starvation for security, for protection and for pure love.
Although the orphan is one that is striped of great loss, you must question and consider if they are actually now more in lack or more in abundance.
I have found many times pain, of and in itself, is not what happened to us as individuals, but what did not happen for us. It is the void from a need unfulfilled.
To the orphan and for the orphan, we must be Jesus, perfect love in action. We must be the bridge between their questions, their scars and the space in their tiny heart.
A person once stated after seeing this picture of me surrounded by these babies, "I don't know how you do it", refering to the heartache that is involved. My honest response was, "I don't know how I don't" or even how I wouldn't. Because in proper perspective, who is the one with the real heartache?