What if every day had exquisite purpose?

I feel I should write a second blog discussing more logistical related things, like what exactly I've been doing since I've been here- especially since I haven't written in a while.

When I first got here, I told myself I would write every day because I wanted to be able to recall everything from this summer. However, this past month has been absolutely crazy and I have not had the time or energy to journal, much less, blog. The opportunities that arose for me this past month have been enormous- so much so, that at the end of every day I'm absolutely exhausted. I've gotten into quite the routine, and I love it.  I wake up around 7am in the morning because the roosters don't let me sleep much later than that...breakfast is served at 8 every morning, so between that time, I get to spend some quiet time alone or I go and see the kids. We have about 25 handicapped kids here at New Life who need much attention throughout the day, so I usually start by spending quality time with some of them. We either read together, play games, draw, sing, or even just sit together. We have teams who are always coming in and out of New Life. They stay here and do work around New Life, but typically go out during the day visiting different orphanages or doing service projects. The past three weeks, we have had anywhere between 70 and 90 people staying here, so there has  always been something to do, something to sort or organize, or questions to be answered. I've also gotten the chance to shadow the adoption counselor they have who facilitates most of the adoptions that are in process right now. So far, I've taken kids to get blood work done and taken some to the US Embassy for the biological mother to verbally relinquish rights. It's been quite a learning and humbling experience- especially on the day we took a set of siblings who are being adopted, with their biological mother they hadn't seen in almost a year, to the Embassy for her to relinquish her rights over.

This may sound like a silly thing to say, but I don't think I've ever cried with children like I did the day we got back from the Embassy. In fact, I don't think I've ever cried with children at all. All five of us, our driver, the mother, the two children and I rode together to the Embassy, but on the way back we had to drop off the mother. I don't think the kids were expecting this, and when she left somewhat abruptly, the younger sibling sat in my lap and wept. Her older brother sat across from me in the car and remained stoic, fighting back the tears. I told him to come sit next to me, and he tentatively did so. As his sister cried and cried, I leaned over and whispered in his ear, "You know, it's okay to be sad. You don't have to be so strong all the time." He nodded and then managed to lean over in his seat and hid his face as he began to let out the deep sadness of feeling unwanted, unloved. I hid my face as I cried, as well. When we got back to property and sat outside on a patio, I explained to them that this is very hard, but God is using this experience to give them a better life- a family who can provide for them better than their own mother can. We all sat and continued to cry together. A beautiful sleep came over them as their bodies and souls were fatigued from such an emotionally exhausting day. As I laid there with them, I began to reflect on what it feels like to be abandoned. We all have experienced abandonment to some extent, sure, but not like this. I had no words other than my understanding. I had nothing to offer them but my open arms and comfort, but somehow I know God was pleased with that. Words can't even describe the amount of respect I have for these children. I admire them more than any other human I've ever encountered before.

On this day I felt so many emotions, I can't even put it into words. Being moved to tears over the mourning of children without a mother humbled me beyond belief. I know these kids, I've been here before, but by actually being here, I am in a beautiful position to offer hope and love when it is needed most. What if every day had purpose as exquisite as this?