First Letters

I have always loved letters. For me, there is something so personal about seeing someone's hand-written words. It takes time and concentrated effort. Someone has to think about you while they are writing to you. They have to decide what information to share with you, and what words they will choose to share their thoughts. Maybe I'm the only person who feels this way, but I really doubt it.

Today, I received two letters. They were a complete surprise. Which is really strange because I've been waiting for at least one of them for over a month. But today when I walked to the mailbox, there was no anticipation. I had done a little guesswork math a few days ago and decided that a letter probably wouldn't come until August. However, I had done a little praying yesterday when I was disturbed by the first signs of waning passion. I had been waiting for one letter. The other one I was sure would take a few more months. I got them both, one from a fairly remote village in Guatemala and one from the largest city in the Philippines. I didn't even go into the house to read them. I sat in the back of the car and ripped them open, read them, gushed over them, and then I took them inside to read them to the girls and Sonny.

The first letter was from Lordylien, our 11-year-old from the Philippines. I got to learn the names and ages of her family members, her favorite things, and her future dreams (she wants to be a chef!). I also learned that she loves to dance and is in a dance group at school. My second letter is from the little girl chosen by Kayla, Yeimi. She is five-years-old and from a Mayan village in Guatemala. There was a small picture of her that I didn't expect. She's unbelievably precious. Since she is young, someone else wrote her letter. I learned that she has a younger brother. She said that she is very happy, that she loves us, and wants us to love her, too. As if I ever had any choice about that. My favorite part, though, was a small drawing of a house, the sun, and a flower, because that was all her and required no translator.

Passion crisis averted.

What Can I Do?

This morning I read the Compassion blog like I do most mornings. But this time, I recognized the city: Coban, Guatemala. What I know is that Coban is the nearest major city to my Yeimi. I didn't make it past drug trafficking before the helplessness set it. Why can't I stop her from being exposed to such things? I found myself wishing I could just take her, take all of them, out of their countries and bring them. Where? Here? Somewhere, I don't know. Just the idea of a sweet 5-year-old little girl getting caught in the middle of all of that led me into a dangerous game of "What If".

After a few minutes, my rational self kicked in. I heard, in my mind, "You are doing something to stop these things from happening." For all of my big talk about the importance of sponsorship and building relationships, when it really came down to the dangers my child faces, I didn't think it was enough. I'm not sure if I thought God was enough. In the few minutes that followed, I was able to see the flaws in my thinking and be grateful for the new knowledge about Yeimi's potential challenges. Knowing about this (and other details after I was able to go back and actually finish reading the post), gives me specific things to pray for and against. It shows me the importance of giving child gifts and family gifts to help meet their needs and encourage parents to keep their children in the program.

This weekend I plan on putting together a list of specific needs for all three of my Compassion kids based on their ages, interests, and geography. I will research the areas where they live through Compassion and other websites and present these needs to God often. I will also pray that He shows me what else I can do for each of them. He is enough. My helplessness does nothing but keep the focus on me and my feelings. When I do that there is no change, only sadness and guilt.