It was late Friday morning. The last-last day of the summer. I rode back with the kids to their orphanage in the little van. On my lap was little Peter John. At three years old, with one of the cutest faces a child ever had, he didn't deserve to be at the cold, stiff government run place. None of them did for that matter.
After the hour ride, they had all piled out of the vans and went directly to the cafeteria for their lunch. I walked with Icy, the translator, and a little girl, Emma to where they were. All the kids were gulping down their meager bowl of thin soup. I was taking it all in. Holding in my tears over my pain for their hurt. One of the boys who had been at camp that week came over to me. Grabbing my hand, he dragged me over to his little foursome table. I knelt down beside him as he ate his lunch.
He began asking me something over and over. I couldn't understand so I asked Icy, "What is he saying?"
What I heard broke my heart... it still does...
He was saying, "Can I go back with you?"
- - - -
That's why I'm going back.
4 comments:
That is such a touching story.
I'd like to join you! I just have a few reasons that I couldn't. One is a junior and one is a sophomore. :) Like the Tree63 song!
Look for the small package I sent to you. It should arrive in a few days. Email me and I'll give they scoop.
Kathy
ohh Nic i'm praying for you and for them......
Lyd
Beautifully put, Nicole! I can see why you'd want to go back!
Post a Comment