Sweetly Broken

Ednure Louis.  You don't know him, but God does.  And he had a plan to use that little two year old boy to change my life forever.  As we entered Mother Theresa's orphanage, the sounds of children and crying babies echoed through the open corridor.  Sick and dying  babies.  Children who've been left by their parents because they cannot care for them on their own. 


We entered the downstairs area where the sick babies are.  It was like taking a step back in time.  A dark room with concrete walls filled with rows upon rows of small iron cribs.  IV's hanging from anywhere they could find a spot.  Sisters in the traditional habits.  And more sick babies than I had ever seen at one time.  This is where I thought I would spend much of my time that morning, but God had a different plan. 


I immediately passed through that room just to see what the upstairs looked like.  The rooms where the non-sick older children stayed.  And there he was.  Ednure Louis.  Sitting on the cold concrete floor.  He instinctively reached up as I crouched down to pick him up.  He sat contently as I held him.  I offered him to Lisa, but he didn't want to go, and before I knew it he was sleeping soundly on my shoulder.  I swayed back and forth trying to offer a little comfort, and before I knew what was happening the tears were streaming down my cheeks.  God's living waters were pouring out of me wishing I could do more than just hold these children for a few short hours.  I was being emptied of me so that I could be refreshed again with God's Holy Spirit. 


Many times I thought of putting Ednure Louis in a crib to tend to another crying child, but something inside me told me to hang on... to hang on tight.  And so I did.  And as I prayed over Ednure Louis gently breathing in and out on my shoulder, wondering whose child I was caring for and why he was there, a peace began to fill my heart.  We sat on the bench, gently swaying, breathing in, breathing out.  And like the day before, I found myself in a bubble of peace amongst all the chaos.  God was using this little boy to remind me that He is in control and will be my only source of peace and strength. 


As Ednure Louis and I sat quietly, visiting hours for parents ended.  A young gentleman who had come to visit his child moved my legs off the bench and set his tiny child down in front of me....  "please take care of and love on my child while I'm gone" were his unspoken words.  I can only imagine the heartache of a parent leaving their child behind every day knowing they can't care for them.  And so I sat there with Ednure Louis on my left shoulder and this little girl on my right shoulder.  We sat there sharing this very moment that God had prepared, predestined, for the three of us, and I was humbled.


I cared for children of all kinds this day... sick and dying babies, mentally handicapped children, and children whose parents simply cannot care for them on their own.  I held a 7 month old baby who could not have weighed more than 5 pounds and could not hold her head up because she was too weak.  Her crying ceased, and she fell asleep in my arms.  I played with and prayed over a 1 year old little girl whose wrist was no larger than a grown man's thumb, but whose spirit was larger than my entire team combined.  Despite her circumstances, the Holy Spirit shined brightly through this little girl's eyes.   I loved on a two year old girl whose hair was gray from malnourishment.  She clung to me and tears streamed down her tiny little cheeks when I put her back in the crib... time to go... she was losing that ever so powerful human touch... that sense of love that God pours through us into those children and my heart ached once more.


I had gone to serve those children, but in the end, God used them to serve me.  I walked out of Mother Theresa's that day having had my heart split wide open but immediately mended back together, stronger than ever before.  I walked out of there with the image of those children, God's little angels, imprinted on my heart.  God held my hand as I walked out the door... sweetly broken.