I was traveling with a group of women to Mazatlan and we were visiting an all girl’s children’s home. The staff asked if I would sit and talk to the girls while the adults went on a tour. “Give them a short B2B history lesson,” they said.
I looked around the picnic table and knew their stories held such pain. Where do I start?
Taking a deep breath, I began, “We just started by offering what we had. At first, I had Oreos, a smile and a strong back. Then I had some bad Spanish, a car that worked and ice cream money. What we had to offer grew over the years and soon we were inviting others to do the same. People came from the US to offer what they had, our Mexican church offered what they had, and together, God’s people were cooperating to send a message to kids all over the world, that He saw them.”
“Now, almost twenty years later, we still ask everyone we meet to offer what’s in their hands for vulnerable children.” I went on to tell them about the Hope Program students in Monterrey offered last summer to the children of Haiti. I shared how we all need each other, and when we sacrifice, we literally represent God to one another.
Then I paused and looked around, “What do you think you have to offer?”
“I am good at math.” One girl didn’t even hesitate, she just piped right up.
“I can make eggs.” Another offered helpfully.
“I have two pairs of shoes.” Came shyly from the girl next to me.
One by one, they told me what was in their metaphorical baskets that they could share and we talked about classrooms and neighborhoods where they could start.
We prayed for kids around the world and then the pizza arrived, the tour finished and we dispersed. The littlest girl in the home, around nine years old, grabbed my hand as we were pushing away from the table and whispered, “Could you pray with me for the kids of India?”
“Yes, of course,” I knelt down to look her in the eye. “What makes you want to pray for them, specifically?”
“I don’t know,” She looked like she might change her mind. “When you were talking about India, my heart was beating really fast.”
“That is a call. That’s the Holy Spirit moving in you,” I looked at her tenderly, wondering what and why the Spirit was stirring in her on this day. We clasped hands and bowed our heads together, inviting Jesus to invite us into his Indian story.
