Hadijah

On Friday of this week, we went to the TRH. The TRH is the The Rehabilitation House for the youngest children of Dwelling Places. They range from a child named Sirus at the age of about 1½ to older girls around the age of 13 or 14. Spending time at the TRH has been one of the most moving experiences I’ve had. We walked up a long ally way and into the gates of the children’s’ home. Before we even stepped inside, we were greeted with hugs and kids climbing all over us. They were absolutely delighted to have us with them. Most of the girls wear basic, green dresses that have been worn and torn. The boys wear whatever clothes their caretakers seemed to have found for them. (After revisiting the following few days, you quickly realize that you identify the children by what they wear cause their clothes rarely change.)

A misconception I had prior to coming here was that Dwelling Places is an orphanage. While some of these kids are orphans, the reason they are all here is that they have come from the streets. Dwelling Places seeks to rehabilitate them and reconcile them to their families. If relatives are not present, they take care of them until they ease into independent living. These kids want so desperately to be embraced and loved. They fought for our attention and at times could even be overwhelming. But after the initial excitement of our arrival, things calmed down a bit, and we were able to disperse ourselves among them and invest in their worlds.

It didn’t take long for little Sirus to get in my arms. He can somewhat totter around on his own, but he isn’t talking yet. I love getting to hold him, and make him smile. It makes my heart heavy to look into his big, beautiful eyes and know that he came from being on the streets. When I hold his precious, small body in my arms, I just want to hold him so gently and so closely that he feels nothing but safety and love. I am honored for the opportunity to be the one person that day that got to love him. I am honored to have held him. I am honored to learn gratitude from this small boy who cannot yet speak.

Later, I made my way into their large play room for a while. Dawn and I got attacked left and right by children high on energy. They were making us laugh and wearing us out. But we loved every minute of it. Needing a break from the hectic playroom, I made my way up the steps and around the corner only to set my eyes on one of the most amazing sights I’ve seen.

Hadijah is a 11-13 year old child in Dwelling Places. She has Cerebral Palsy. When we first arrived, she was sitting on the porch with her blue jeans half way on, and a dirty, brown tank top. She sat there with adventure in her eyes. But when I came around the corner, she was in Jessica’s arms with her feet on top of Jessica’s walking. Jessica walked her up and down the sidewalk. Hadijah’s face was lit up with sheer joy and wonder. She marveled at her own accomplishment. I assisted her little adventure with applause and cheer. After we sat her down to take a break, Jessica picked her up and carried her to the tire swing. We tag teamed to get her strong, beautiful legs into the middle of the swing. She threw her arms over the top and held on with all she had. She swung for about ten minutes and was glowing. We then carried her back to the porch where I ran to sit next to her and rejoice with her over the fun she’d had. While I sat there, she kept pointing back at the swing and moaning. Not fully understanding, I taught her to high five and kept smiling with her.

I had gotten up to play soccer with one of the children for about three minutes only to turn around and see Hadijah making efforts to crawl back to the swing. My heart melted within me and broke all at once. She just wanted to swing. That’s all she wanted; was to swing so badly. I couldn’t keep myself from rushing toward her to scoop her up and put her right back in that tire swing. She threw her arms over the top again to hold on, and I pushed her until it was past time to go. While she swung, I smiled my tears back into my eyes. Seeing her so happy in those moments touched my heart so heavily. She was happy, she was laughing, she was living.

When it was time to go, I carried her back to the porch, and walked away waving at Hadijah with her pants on properly and a smile on her face. We walked back down the ally, and the whole way home until I broke down.

During my time here in Uganda, sometimes I find myself so homesick or missing my friends and family. I was on my knees in gratitude that I not only have parents who love me at home, but friends amongst that as well. And unlike Hadijah, I do not have to fight 18 other people for attention from them. I look at a child like a Hadijah, and find myself hoping that she doesn’t have parents. Because she came from the streets and it’s more disturbing to think that she has parents who would have left her there. I want to be home, I want a warm shower, I want a glass of cold water, or even just some fruit. But Hadijah? She just wanted to swing. She wanted to walk. She wanted to feel alive.

I will never forget my time with her. She is not just a child with a disorder, but she was alone and living on the streets. My heart hurts for what she has been through, but then my heart rejoices. I rejoice that she too is beautiful. The Lord is Healer, and I pray that over her. To feel nothing but sorry for her, would be missing the power of Christ. There is so much redemption to be had here. The Lord has already used her to break the pride of my own heart. He has used her to bring gratitude in my life like a storm. Hadijah touched the hearts of everyone on my team. She has a powerful voice for the Lord’s goodness. She is fearfully and wonderfully made. There is beauty in the brokenness. I am so humbled, speechless, and honored to have crossed paths with Hadijah.