Rewind back to week one in The Philippines. I had accidentally arrived too early for teaching and had some time to kill. Sitting on the steps, I connected to nearby wifi for a quick video chat with my sister. Throughout the call a little street girl had managed to slide through the gate and make her way towards me. She would take a few steps, see me looking at her, and plop down and act like she hadn’t moved. Before long she had crept up the steps and sat behind me, intently looking at my sister on the screen. After the chat had ended, I sat with the cutie for awhile. She had no words but she played with my fingers and scrunched my face. Then came an older girl who looked about 6 years old. She was clearly the cutie’s older sister. She was holding a baby. At that time, I had no idea I had just met my center of all things Philippines.
Jessica (6), Trixie (3) and Stephanie (1). The girls who have stolen my heart and most of the hours out of my everyday. If I take a Saturday to hit the mall or something touristy, I always end up finding myself dissatisfied in a day without them. They have been familiar faces from week 1, constantly grabbing my hand and asking to play when I pass them on the streets. Slowly each encounter built on the last until every time we spied one another around a corner or down a road, it became a full-on dash to what looked like a long anticipated reunion. It took a few weeks for Stephanie to warm up to me, but now she holds out her little arms and smiles the sweetest smile when I play with her big sisters. Trixie is a trouble maker and enjoys nothing more than stressing me out by running towards busy streets in order to make me chase after her. She loves to eat almost anything and pulls me towards every shop and bakery we pass. She is very possessive of my hand holding and fights other street kids if they already occupy an arm. I can’t really get enough of her and her naughty smile. Jessica is one tough little girl. Being big sister, she is protective and motherly. She has had more than her fair share of gashes, rashes, bruises and sickness. Many of which I question their source but get short and vague answers. One day, something had cut through the top of her foot and she was dripping blood in the streets. Someone had seen her and taken her to our ministry center and then to the hospital for stitches. Throughout the whole ordeal, Jessica was strong and tolerant. Though she hopped around for the next few days, she never stopped to complain, not once.
At the beginning, these girls were friends. They were precious faces and familiar dark fingers laced in mine. Something happened between visits to their 7 foot by 5 foot room in the back of an alleyway, meetings with the social worker, a hospital run, the purchase of a fan, countless bags of rice, and more selfies than my phone can handle. They cloud my mind every night as I yearn for their health, care and safety. Each day that I leave them, I blow them kisses and say “I Love You”. Jessica doesn’t go to school or have an education from her parents so she doesn’t speak English but I prayed that they would somehow know how much I loved them.
A few days ago I was coloring some cardboard with Jessica and picking gravel out of Trixie’s hair. I was thinking about how I could be better to them before I left. I was struggling to find something else to do for them as if I was running out of time. Then, out of nowhere, Jessica set down her crayon, looked at me, nuzzled into my side and whispered a quiet “I love you too”. She picked her head back up and continued coloring. It came out of complete silence and weighed on my heart. I’ll never know how she knew to say that but her words were a clear reminder that love is enough. It was as if she could hear what I was thinking and was telling me that she loved me too, regardless of what more I could do. It broke my heart in every good way and made the idea of final goodbyes even more dreadful.
I love them more than I thought I was capable of. Jessica, Trixie and Stephanie have a part of my heart I didn’t know existed. The only comfort I find in leaving them so soon is the truth that Jesus loves them even more than I do, and that love is enough.
