Tuesdays

I debated for a while about whether or not to write this post. It may sound like I'm tooting my own horn or that I think I'm super amazing or something (I mean, I know I'm cool, but I'm not that cool). Basically, I just want to write this humbly, so I hope that happens.

I've been spending one afternoon a week at a home for disabled children called St. Vincent's. There is an Australian missionary here who goes once a week, so I go with her and bring Lydia with me as well. It isn't the cleanest place in the world, but it also isn't the dirtiest. It isn't easy to see all the kids who need so much support, but I can't imagine that it would be any easier to see in the States or anywhere else for that matter. So, in light of everything, we play. And oh man, do we play.

This past week, I have the joy of hanging out with a little boy named Eric (the significance of getting to play with a little boy who shares my brother's name is not lost on me). Eric is blind and doesn't walk. Because he can't see, sounds and the ways you can feel sounds captivate him. He sat across from me, and we passed a soccer ball back and forth. Sometimes, I would roll the ball into his belly and he would bounce it back to me or I would beat the ball like a drum and he would throw back his head and laugh this deep, belly laugh. In fact, he laughs a lot at almost everything. It's impossible not to laugh right along with him. He loves the sound of scratching along the zipper of my rain coat. He loves beating the bottom of a bucket. When he did get upset, I'd walk around with him and sing him "You Can Close Your Eyes" by James Taylor. It's the same song that my mom would sing to me and my brother when we were little and the same song that I sing to my sweet Godbrother when I put him to sleep. Some classics are meant to stay. And I can tell Eric likes the song because he always hums along with me.

One of the greatest things that I get to see once a week at St. Vincent's is the way that Lydia interacts and plays with these children. She sings songs, claps, encourages and plays with so much grace and joy. At her age, I already loved hanging out with little kids, but I would have felt lost and awkward in the challenge of playing with so many kids who weren't like me and couldn't do the things that I could. Not Lydia.

These moments are so blessed.

I often really struggle to hear or understand God, but there is no clearer sound of the Lord than the laughter of children and there is no clearer picture of God than watching people care for each other and delight in one another.

He is here.