Each morning I wake up to the pouring rain. After breakfast with chai, my team heads out to catch the bus. Two buses and forty minutes later, we arrive at our destination: daycare.
This week I worked at a daycare that’s tucked into the slums right at the edge of the ocean. As we walk through the streets, the children stare and yell, “Halo, teacha!” The cows and goats eat their breakfast from the piles of garbage that clutter the streets and it’s usually raining, so by the time we get to the school, our feet are soggy and coated in mud.
I volunteered to teach the three year old class. My mornings are fun. For most of these kids, this is the first time they’re away from home all day so at this point, the teachers are still working on keeping everyone in their seats. Basically, my job consists of: soothing the screaming children, pulling kids off the tables, breaking up fights, and teaching the kids it’s not okay to bite your classmate to solve a problem. The school day is only three hours long, but by its end, I’m drained.
Let’s be honest for a moment. I didn’t come here to work with three year olds. I flew half way around the world because I thought He wanted me to work with women who’ve been trafficked. But here’s what I’ve learned this week amidst the chaos.
If I can show one little boy that he’s loved, maybe he’ll grow up with respect for others. If I can teach a three year old little girl to enjoy school, perhaps she’ll continue her education and thus won’t have to sell herself for food. If I pour myself out everyday just to show these little kids that Someone cares so deeply about them, then there’s hope for a brighter tomorrow. There’s hope for the next generation. With an education, it’s entirely possible that these little girls won’t have to grow up in a brothel, being raped 50 times a day. It’s entirely possible that these kids might change their country.
At the very least, if nothing else is possible, maybe these kids will see the hope in my eyes. Maybe they’ll feel it as I rub their backs or smile at them. Yes, at the very least, I’ll show them hope. And that hope will give them courage to expect greater possibilities for themselves.
*I wish I could show you a picture. But unfortunately, this computer was made in 1642, so there’s no way to upload it*
