When describing India, most people say it’s dirty and full of people, beautiful and crazy, dark and lost. But I’ve found hope here.
At the boys’ home, there’s a boy named Hopen. He’s that kid who is indescribable. He’s about four years old, tiny, missing some teeth, but is full of personality. I knew as soon as I met him that he’d be the one I’d tell stories about.
Like that time when he climbed a wall in order to show me how strong he is.
Or that time when we pretended we were airplanes from the 1930s taking down our enemies.
Or that time when he searched for me as our team walked up, and upon finding me, his face lights up as he sprints to me and jumps into my arms, victoriously yelling “Auntie Sarah!”
Or that time when he didn’t feel well, so he walked up to me wrapped up in an over-sized piece of tattered fabric, crawled up in my lap, and we watched the world go by together.
Those are the moments that overwhelm me with emotions. I can’t help but love this little boy that I’ve only known for a short time. I love seeing him run and play, knowing he’s safe here at the home. I love holding him and praying for the man he is going to become. I love being part of his world for a moment in time.
He gives me hope for this country. He shows that there is a generation of Indians who won’t be like the generations past. He is going to be a man of God that people are drawn to and who changes this country.
Hopen was saved from the streets and now has an amazing future.
And it’s because of God’s ceaseless redemption that we have eternal hope.
Praise the Lord for hope.
