Pure Religion is this.

I wrote this blog right after returning from Kingston. I wasn't ready to "publish" it (not that anyone reads this!) as my heart was heavy and I felt too vulnerable. But now, as I am fighting to get back to Kingston... to me, this is an excellent reminder who I am fighting for.

December 12th


I wanted to write again when we got back from GH Children’s home on Saturday but I just couldn’t. I was overwhelmed with emotion and had to process. GH is children’s home for children who have been found on the streets or who’s parents have been incarcerated or have passed away. Some of the children have disabilities but most are just delayed due to lack of stimulation. I didn’t think I could feel more than I felt the day before at our visits to the special needs orphanages, but somehow my heart felt even heavier.

Our new friend, Claudette who brought us around the homes is a beautiful, feisty woman in her 50’s who works a full-time business job (yet somehow manages to endlessly serve her church and the children’s homes). She asked us Friday night if we were “sure” we had enough energy for Saturday. We stated without hesitation “absolutely” ready and invigorated by our previous days adventures. Little did we know what she meant…

We walked into GH and I was yet again amazed by the cleanliness of the run-down facility. We went to the toddler room for children Owen’s age first. There was one woman and twenty 1-2 year-olds in the area. Many of the children still on their camp-like metal beds, some locked in a caged beds, crying in anguish for attention and to get their soiled sheets cleaned. A pile of mismatched clothing and underwear lay on an empty bed and the tireless worker doing her best to get each child into some type of clothing. She looked at us stone-faced and with no emotion, “it’s Saturday, we are understaffed.” Apparently, it was her and 1 other women left to about 60 kids under the age of 6, including infants (I now have absolutely no room to complain about handling my one 2 year-old!).

We picked up the worse-than-goodwill looking clothing and began to help lotion and clothe the children. I would clothe one child (in mismatched and wrong-sized clothing) and set them down to go yet they would hold up their feet (a trick Owen does often when he wants to be held) and begin to cry fighting to stay in our laps. Most of the children had very little language, and those who did were very difficult to understand. The neglect and lack of stimulation was evident- but even more was their need for touch and love. We couldn’t possibly have held the children enough. Many of the children would say “Momma” in hopes to grab my attention again. Momma, such an important and endearing term however I knew that they probably had no real understanding of what what this word meant.

The morning consisted of 1 coloring book, a bag of markers and 5 books (we brought them for the babies yet they ended up being occupied by the older kids) for all the kids in the home to share. Remember the couple times that Jesus multiplied the fish and the loaves?! Well, so was it with the coloring book and markers. Somehow it occupied for a good couple hours. Most of the morning for Joe and I was taken up by holding the children- sometimes two or three at a time. Every couple minutes I thought of my Owen- all the hugs, holds and kisses he received. He probably was given more in his first week of life than these children's lifetimes.

…. And the babies- each in their own crib, picked up to be fed to be laid back down again. Even the youngest week-old babies don’t get fed at night and are let to cry till morning. We held them, sang to them and I dreamed of bringing them all home with me.

It was painfully difficult to walk out the door when we were told it was time to leave that afternoon. I felt myself searching for reason and comfort in a situation that seemed to have no hope. On the ride home I was reminded that there is much more going on then even I could see… our God is in the business of saving… “He defends the cause of the fatherless, giving food and clothing” (Deut 24:19), “He hears the cries of the orphan" (Exodus 22:22), “He is a father to the fatherless" (Psalm 68:5).

Religion is a topic full of emotion and controversy. But when I was at GH and the other children’s homes it seemed so simple. Jesus was evident, the children pure and it was my job to allow my heart to move and my body to give.… “Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world” (James 1).

As I finish the blog from my suburban home warmed by electric heating and snuggled in clothing that match and fit just right- there is a call for me to remember this scripture and not forget what I experienced. It is also a call not allow commonality stain spirituality and to continue this religion (no matter where I am).