The Best Hug Ever

Yesterday, my team made our first trip out to Casa Hogar. I nervously chewed on my lip for the entire 45 minute ride past wooden shacks that leaned in ways they were supposed to, past men riding horses, past views of the mountains cloaked in clouds that surpass all words. I think I was mostly nervous that the kids wouldn't remember me. When our busito finally approached the chapel at Casa Hogar, several kids were hurrying into the church wearing red in honor of Pentecost (the red represents the tongues of fire that settled on the believers when the Holy Spirit filled them in Acts 2). The chapel's bell rang out over the rocky terrain and signaled us to join the children's hustle. I probably should have been more astonished or emotional when I walked in the door of the chapel and saw all the kids from last summer gathered together. I wasn't. I calmly walked over to the group of little girls, with whom I spent a lot of time last year. It was touching to catch their eyes and have them smile at me in recognition. I almost instantly found myself trying to keep one of the girls, Yareli, from playing with her tambourine while Suzy was at the front of the chapel leading everyone in prayer. It was as though I'd never left. 

It wasn't until Suzy called everyone's attention to the North Americans randomly sitting among them that the gravity of returning to Casa Hogar hit me. And because God has a great sense of humor, it hit me via Fernando, one of the younger boys that I seemed to be most at odds with last year. He calmly walked over to me and gave me the best hug ever. Just the way his arms wrapped around me, refusing to let go for several minutes and without saying a word...that was the moment. 

I couldn't put my finger on it. All day long I tried to decipher why that moment was so instantaneously meaningful for me, why I thought I would cry and laugh all at once while sitting in that church service. I've since realized Fernando has become the face of why I want to spend the rest of my life serving God and people. His hug brought back all the memories from last summer of him acting out, taunting me, and leaving me in absolute exhaustion. I thought about all the prayers I'd said about him and for him. Everything came back in his hug. For me, it's not the people who are easy to love that make this life worthwhile. It's the challenging ones, the ones that make you want to pull out your hair one second and then are sweetly tugging at your hand the next. Fernando has become a representation of that for me. I don't think I can say he's fully healed or that my three weeks with him last summer helped him in any significant way. But the love and connection I feel with him because of our struggles together have helped me. They have scarred me and healed me. They have given me purpose.

I worry about Fernando. He comes from a background of neglect and abuse that is hard to recover from. I desperately want him to grow up feeling nothing but safety and love from here on out. I also worry about whether I'll even be able to make a difference in lives like his. No matter the outcomes, I am utterly thankful for the chance to be a small part of Fernando's life and to love him.

"Therefore, we who have fled to him for refuge can take new courage, for we can hold on to his promise with confidence. This confidence is like a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls. It leads us through the curtain of heaven into God's inner sanctuary." Hebrews 6:18-19