Love Them While You Can

This summer 11 kids have left Sonshine Hacienda. Three new kids joined us. And another one came and left again within a matter of 24 hours.

It has been emotionally exhausting.

Randy was particularly close to 3-year-old Pamela who left. And I to 12-year-old Brayan.

Pamela started and ended each day running into Randy’s arms, batting her eyes for an extra helping of food, throwing her head back when she laughed. She left a huge hole in our family.

Brayan and I would talk about whatever was on his mind each evening as we cleaned the dining room. Sometimes that was him wondering what high school would be like in a few years, or whether or not his brother and aunt would come to visit him this weekend, or if he could be involved in sports or other activities outside the casa. He would tell me about the other children’s homes where he had lived, ones that also had American missionaries, ones that allowed video games (we do not), ones that also had trampolines like ours.

There were times that he would bump heads with other staff, or be upset when his family didn’t come to visit, or be overwhelmed by his emotions and his reality. During those times I would ask him to help me walk the dog, or walk to the store with me for a soda, anything to get him outside the casa walls and moving. Sometimes he would confide in me. Other times he wouldn’t say a word, but would only nod or shake his head or walk in silence.

In his last weeks here he asked me if we could go running at 6 a.m., before breakfast and chores. Of course I said yes. (And of course I was the one who was sore afterwards!)

When he left I was devastated. He wasn’t going home to live with a family (his or otherwise). He was going to another children’s home, one with hundreds of kids (we currently have 15).

Would he be treated well? Would he be safe? Would he be happy? Would anyone ever come to visit?

Did I teach him all the things I was meant to teach him? Did I love him well? Did I listen hard enough? Could I have said or done anything different? Will he remember me?

I have the same questions about each of the children who have left. Does Pamela have a father-figure who will hug her each morning? Does Fabiola have someone who will listen hard? Does Pablo have an outlet for all of his energy? Is Pedro safe? Will Ignacio ever learn to read? Will 2-year-old Ariel even remember this season of his life?

For weeks I imagined I still saw Brayan in the hallways, delaying being where he was supposed to be, enjoying a few extra moments to himself.

It brought up such feelings of loss that I started to wonder if it was worth giving my whole heart to kids who would only be part of my life for a short time.

I was starting to heal from that loss around the time that 12-year-old Carlos arrived. He was big and lovable, with a sweet disposition. Yet I felt an immediate wall go up. I did not want this 12-year-old replacing Brayan in my heart. Or my life for that matter. But was that fair? Brayan was someone else’s responsibility now. And Carlos was mine. In reality, however, I didn’t even have time to process all of this, because within 24-hours they came and took Carlos back to his parents.

It was tempting to think, “See, I was right not to open my heart to this child,” but instead I felt that the opposite was true.

We were given 24-hours to care for this child. We didn’t know it would only be 24-hours. But that is what we were given. And it was… it is… our responsibility to take advantage of every one of those hours.

I decided I don’t want to be unaffected by the children coming and going. I want to feel it deeply. Because that means I care deeply, and that is the responsibility that God has given me in this season.