I miss my kids.
All sixty of them.
I recently returned from my church’s summer youth mission trip to an area called the Warzone in Dallas, TX. It’s an area with such a terrible reputation that at one time the police were even afraid to patrol there. It was the center of the city’s drug and prostitution rings. In fact, the apartments where we lodged had once been a prostitution compound.
But all that has begun to change. The Warzone is being slowly transformed by God’s amazing work through a small church called Cornerstone Baptist Church and their shepherd, Pastor Chris. It was to this small neighborhood church that we drove four hours just to aid the good work being done in the community.
The number one priority of our trip was to touch the lives of the children that Cornerstone took in every day for a vacation Bible school. These precious kids ranged in age from first to sixth grade. Some of them walked to church, some of them caught rides. Some of them were athletes, others were studious. Some of them already understood who Christ is, some of them had never heard of Him before. But they all had something in common. They all wanted love and attention. And they all wanted to give it.
Pastor Chris told Brian, our youth pastor, that only three out of the sixty plus kids actually lived with parents or a parent. The rest of them stayed with grandparents or other relatives. Their parents were on the streets. Many of them didn’t even know where their moms and dads were; even if they did, they were often not allowed to see them.
These were the most loving, thankful children I had ever been around. As soon as you walked in the room, you’d be tackled by waist-high munchkins all wanting to hug you and get a big smile and a hug back. They loved being read to in the mornings and would take off running to get a new book as soon as you had finished the one you were reading. When Amanda saw one little one crying and asked what was wrong, the kid sniffed and replied “Why do you care?” Amanda hugged him and said “Because I love you. I care about how you’re feeling.” She said his whole face immediately lit up and he threw his arms around her neck. He wouldn’t leave her side for the rest of the week. He was amazed that someone he had never talked to before loved him.
Recreation was a blast. The older kids showed amazing good sportsmanship and tried hard to follow the rules and enjoy the game. The younger ones just loved to play even though they usually had no idea what they were doing. But they loved the games. So did we. Volleyball drove Jared hoarse from shouting excitedly “Get it get it get it get it— oh!... Dead ball!” When the day was done, we decided that we’d had even more fun than the kids had. Considering that even the shy girls in the back had huge smiles on their faces, that is a lengthy claim to make.
All of them— the older ones especially— got very into the Bible study. Brian would pass out small acting or miming roles to some of the kids to perform while he read. With huge smiles, the boys playing Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego would leap to their feet and shout “We will not bow down!” at the slightest hint of their cue while Nebacanezzer puffed up his chest in the background and the rest of the kids waved their arms like the flames of a fire. Keeping them involved in the stories helped them to listen and understand. And, of course, it was just fun to play.
We used crafts to explain various elements of Christianity, from the ABC’s of Accept, Believe, and Confess to colored beads representing everything from the blood of Christ to the sin of our lives. I always smiled every time one of the older guys rolled their eyes and said they wouldn’t make a necklace because I knew they would be the first to ask for help.
The indoor games were just as fun as the outdoor games. We did everything from Gorilla, Man, Gun— a rendition of the classic Paper, Rock, Scissors— to the Cupid Shuffle, the Cha Cha Slide, and the Macarena. The little ones loved it if you took their hands and did the motions with them. Some of the older ones did, too. “I love watching you do it.” Tanesha told me after finishing one round of the Cupid Shuffle. “You’re not afraid to dance. I’m gonna try to do it like you do.”
Being able to love and get such sparkling love in return made me feel like I was accomplishing something amazing, even though it felt like all we were doing was little things. Just tickling, hugging, or playing patty-cake with the kids lit up their faces like Christmas had come early. You couldn’t sit down without having someone plop down in your lap or put their little arms around your shoulders. “Every one of your kids,” Pastor Chris told Brian once, “has one of my kids in their lap or in their arms except for that one— she’s got one on her back.”
At the end of the day on Thursday, nearly everyone was in tears. It was one precious little boy named Jacob who started it. He put his arms around Sami and looked up at her with his big brown eyes and said “I don’t wanna leave.” All of the kids were like that. They’d hug you, start to leave, then run back for another one. Even when they did go, they looked back until they couldn’t see you any more. Or wave until you couldn’t see them.
I had always sworn I could never work with small children. I didn’t have the patience or the capacity, I thought. But these children blessed me the same way I blessed them— with a hug and a smile. If I touched their lives, they touched mine in direct proportion. If more people would forget themselves just long enough to see that there are children who just want to be showed attention, they would receive an equal gift.
If not more.
All sixty of them.
I recently returned from my church’s summer youth mission trip to an area called the Warzone in Dallas, TX. It’s an area with such a terrible reputation that at one time the police were even afraid to patrol there. It was the center of the city’s drug and prostitution rings. In fact, the apartments where we lodged had once been a prostitution compound.
But all that has begun to change. The Warzone is being slowly transformed by God’s amazing work through a small church called Cornerstone Baptist Church and their shepherd, Pastor Chris. It was to this small neighborhood church that we drove four hours just to aid the good work being done in the community.
The number one priority of our trip was to touch the lives of the children that Cornerstone took in every day for a vacation Bible school. These precious kids ranged in age from first to sixth grade. Some of them walked to church, some of them caught rides. Some of them were athletes, others were studious. Some of them already understood who Christ is, some of them had never heard of Him before. But they all had something in common. They all wanted love and attention. And they all wanted to give it.
Pastor Chris told Brian, our youth pastor, that only three out of the sixty plus kids actually lived with parents or a parent. The rest of them stayed with grandparents or other relatives. Their parents were on the streets. Many of them didn’t even know where their moms and dads were; even if they did, they were often not allowed to see them.
These were the most loving, thankful children I had ever been around. As soon as you walked in the room, you’d be tackled by waist-high munchkins all wanting to hug you and get a big smile and a hug back. They loved being read to in the mornings and would take off running to get a new book as soon as you had finished the one you were reading. When Amanda saw one little one crying and asked what was wrong, the kid sniffed and replied “Why do you care?” Amanda hugged him and said “Because I love you. I care about how you’re feeling.” She said his whole face immediately lit up and he threw his arms around her neck. He wouldn’t leave her side for the rest of the week. He was amazed that someone he had never talked to before loved him.
Recreation was a blast. The older kids showed amazing good sportsmanship and tried hard to follow the rules and enjoy the game. The younger ones just loved to play even though they usually had no idea what they were doing. But they loved the games. So did we. Volleyball drove Jared hoarse from shouting excitedly “Get it get it get it get it— oh!... Dead ball!” When the day was done, we decided that we’d had even more fun than the kids had. Considering that even the shy girls in the back had huge smiles on their faces, that is a lengthy claim to make.
All of them— the older ones especially— got very into the Bible study. Brian would pass out small acting or miming roles to some of the kids to perform while he read. With huge smiles, the boys playing Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego would leap to their feet and shout “We will not bow down!” at the slightest hint of their cue while Nebacanezzer puffed up his chest in the background and the rest of the kids waved their arms like the flames of a fire. Keeping them involved in the stories helped them to listen and understand. And, of course, it was just fun to play.
We used crafts to explain various elements of Christianity, from the ABC’s of Accept, Believe, and Confess to colored beads representing everything from the blood of Christ to the sin of our lives. I always smiled every time one of the older guys rolled their eyes and said they wouldn’t make a necklace because I knew they would be the first to ask for help.
The indoor games were just as fun as the outdoor games. We did everything from Gorilla, Man, Gun— a rendition of the classic Paper, Rock, Scissors— to the Cupid Shuffle, the Cha Cha Slide, and the Macarena. The little ones loved it if you took their hands and did the motions with them. Some of the older ones did, too. “I love watching you do it.” Tanesha told me after finishing one round of the Cupid Shuffle. “You’re not afraid to dance. I’m gonna try to do it like you do.”
Being able to love and get such sparkling love in return made me feel like I was accomplishing something amazing, even though it felt like all we were doing was little things. Just tickling, hugging, or playing patty-cake with the kids lit up their faces like Christmas had come early. You couldn’t sit down without having someone plop down in your lap or put their little arms around your shoulders. “Every one of your kids,” Pastor Chris told Brian once, “has one of my kids in their lap or in their arms except for that one— she’s got one on her back.”
At the end of the day on Thursday, nearly everyone was in tears. It was one precious little boy named Jacob who started it. He put his arms around Sami and looked up at her with his big brown eyes and said “I don’t wanna leave.” All of the kids were like that. They’d hug you, start to leave, then run back for another one. Even when they did go, they looked back until they couldn’t see you any more. Or wave until you couldn’t see them.
I had always sworn I could never work with small children. I didn’t have the patience or the capacity, I thought. But these children blessed me the same way I blessed them— with a hug and a smile. If I touched their lives, they touched mine in direct proportion. If more people would forget themselves just long enough to see that there are children who just want to be showed attention, they would receive an equal gift.
If not more.
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