Jillian with Dat.As you can imagine in our work here there are many daily details to attend to. Plans to be made; arrangements for translators, drivers, etc.; contacts to be made; schedules to outline--with all their details from bathroom breaks to food to driving time to ... on and on it goes. Sometimes the children themselves can get pushed to the background. Then, mercifully, the Lord gives us a reminder.
Today at lunch, I asked Dat when is his birthday. He didn't bat an eye. He just said simply, "I don't know." I tried not to visibly flinch, but my heart was pierced with the weight of what he was saying.
Dat is 14. Yet thoughts of cake, ice cream, games, presents, a gathering of family and friends--they are nowhere in his memory bank. His mother loves him--but in their struggle to provide her son with food, shelter and education, all made more difficult by her own debilitating illness, there is no room for balloons or songs.
Dat is not an isolated case. Most of the children we have contact with would say the same.
Our hearts long to tell them they are specially made, lovingly handcrafted by a Heavenly Father who has created them with worth, dignity and destiny. They are important enough to be fed well, to have clothing and education provided. They are valued enough that it matters if they have a safe home, a comfortable bed, curtains at the window, and a place to hang their hat.
For me, that sums it up. They are why I am here. I want them all to know that they are not outcasts. They are not the bottom, they are not less, they are not alone.
So every outing, every activity, every provision, every renovation--it is all worth it. At the end of it all are children who may have no inkling that they are loved by anyone.
So thank you, Lord, and thank you, Dat, for reminding me today. The work is important. The details matter. They are sending a message. Pray that it will be received.
Grace and peace!
