by Ashley, Children at Risk DTS Staff
How do you fit eleven YWAMers and eleven rescued orphans into a small pick-up truck (sungtow) that has three benches in the truck bed?
A little something like this…
Yep, 22 people fit in here.
We pile in and squish together. When there is absolutely no room left for anyone else, we drive to church. A couple minutes into our ride, someone starts singing. Soon, everyone sings along to fun kids’ songs. After a quiet moment, one of the children starts the next song, one of my favorite worship songs.
I look around me and my heart just melts. Some of the kids close their eyes, some sing at the top of their lungs, and others gently lift their sweet little voices toward Heaven. Tears come to my eyes as their song wraps around me.
The song splits into two parts, with the kids taking the harmony and melody, and I’m surrounded by a heavenly choir!
Worship with Thai orphans (click to download, it’s an .m4a file that should open with iTunes.)
As we worship together, I think about how we come from such different places: Them–orphaned, then rescued to another country to live a better life. Their future is unsure, with no family to call their own but each other. Us–families at home, many people missing us, praying for us, and awaiting our return. Yet as our voices blend together, so do our worlds.
My heart is overwhelmed with the sweetness of the moment and I am overtaken by the realization of God’s goodness, His redemption, His grace.
Here we are, all the same to Him: just a bunch of His kids singing in the back of a truck. It’s like I can feel God’s smile. And I wonder, maybe tears are coming to his eyes, too, as he listens to His kids from totally different worlds become a family and sing to their Daddy.
These kids who once had no hope now know the One who brings hope. They are safe, protected, loved.
They know it too, and in response they just sing.
by Jenna, Children at Risk DTS student
"We are going to make friends with the women in these bars and I'm excited to show them not everyone is out just to use them." -- Jenna
My two friends and I walk through the red light district of Patong, Thailand. Bars flank us on both sides and heavy club music pulses all around. We are going to make friends with the women in these bars and I’m excited to show them not everyone is out to use them.
But the deeper we go into the district, the heavier I feel. It’s like the very atmosphere is thick and dark. I push through the feeling and my friends and I pray quietly as we walk down the next alley of bars.
Girls dressed in next to nothing dance on the tables while others pull passers-by to come and sit with them. At this point, I’m really feeling uneasy and unsure what to do next.
We finally arrive at a bar with five girls and an older woman, who I’m assuming is the bar manager. We sit down, order a Coke, and then pull out Connect Four.
“Do you want to play?” I ask one of the girls nearby.
Her face brightens and she sits down by me. That’s when I realize I really have met my match at this game–I’ve never seen someone so good at Connect Four in my life!
As we play the game, we chat and get to know each other. Her name is Pane and she has been working here for five days. Pane’s demeanor is fresh and innocent. She’s one of the sweetest people I’ve met. When it’s time to pack up our game and go home, I tell Pane that I’ll be back in a couple of days.
“Will you remember me?” she asks.
“Of course!”
Grinning and laughing, Pane tells me she’s looking forward to seeing us again. And I’m really excited to spend more time with her. I want to show her what true friendship is about. I want her to know she’s valuable for who she is — not just for her beauty or her body. And I want to introduce her to the God who created her, who gave up everything for her to be free.
I’ve never felt so much love and compassion for someone I have just met. I know there is hope for Pane and for all of the girls who work here. With God, there is hope!
by Lo, Children at Risk DTS student
The words flare up as the kids sing and dance around the courtyard. They sing their favorite song: “I am free, free to dance, free to live for you.” I close my eyes as I feel the presence of God all around me with these kids.
For three days we had the privilege of spending our time at a home for HIV/AIDS victims and orphans. We shared the importance of value, prayer, and letting your light shine. We made crafts, sang action songs, and played puppet shows and games with them.
All of these children touched our hearts immensely. I could go on and on explaining what we did with them, but my team and I believe the best way for them to be remembered is by sharing a little bit about who they are and our personal time with them. (Click their photo to read their story.)
 Shekhar |
 Sheetal is a high energy, 10 year old girl. Her mother, a prostitute, left her orphaned and HIV positive. |
 Sonaji and Kara play and laugh together |
 Eunice & Ana |
by Amy, Children at Risk DTS student
Sheetal is a high energy, 10 year old girl. Her mother, a prostitute, left her orphaned and HIV positive.
Sheetal had so much energy I could hardly keep up with her! She never stopped moving, talking, playing, and demanding that I do the same. I soon felt exhausted by her endless supply of energy. But then I realized she was simply lonely and craved loving friendship. Sheetal just wanted someone to laugh with her, play with her, and love her. And so the majority of the time we were at the home, I spent time with Sheetal.
Even though it broke my heart to know that I would only be able to be her friend for three days, God reminded me of something. I needed to spend each day with her to the fullest! What we were doing with these kids is important, something they won’t forget.
One our last day, Sheetal looked at me with begging eyes.
“Please come back on my birthday, April 25th!” she said.
“I’ll see if I can,” I said. I knew it was unlikely that I could come back then, but how can you say no to a question like that?
As we drove away from their home waving goodbye, I prayed, “God, show Sheetal that you are her friend, but that you will never leave her.”
Shekhar
My friendship with Shekhar began with me helping him get water to wash his school socks.
When I looked at him, I didn’t see an HIV positive orphan who was abandoned as a baby–just a boy with a lot of energy who was small for his age. He’s six, but is about the size of a four-year-old. When I hugged him or held his hand, I thought his bones felt thin or frail. But Shekhar sure didn’t seem to notice. He could run, jump, and climb with the best of them. He didn’t just walk somewhere, he sprinted at top speed to his next “adventure.” And Shekhar’s laugh came so easily!
At the end of our second afternoon together, Kara snapped a Polaroid picture of me and Shekhar. When our picture magically appeared, Shekhar asked if he could keep it. Then he ran around, showing it to everybody.
“Can you tape it here?” he asked. He pointed to the wall near his pillow on the bottom bunk.
I just loved every moment I got to spend with Shekhar—from spinning him around in the air to the quieter moments when he sat in my lap with my arms around him. There’s nothing quite like watching a little kid sing and dance to Jesus, or run around and laugh with his new shark beanie baby.
It was hard to tell him goodbye after three short days. I’ve wondered how long he’ll be healthy and what his future holds. I’m so thankful he was rescued from the streets and given a place to live and thrive. And I pray that he will continue to change the world around him—I know he’s already changed my world.
by Hannah, Children at Risk DTS student
When Yapseelah was seven, she was running down a path like all kids her age, when she fell and hit her head on a rock. Since then, she has had debilitating headaches.
We returned to Kore, the community that lives in the garbage dump, to check on the families again. This ministry has been really sad, but I felt good about today, like something special might happen.
I walked down the rocky path with a guy we call Chef. A very thin woman greeted us and welcomed us into her home. The first thing I noticed about her was how warm her eyes and smile were. Her eyes looked tired and sad, but she didn’t look hopeless like so many others we had met.
Her home was one room with a wooden bench, a small TV, and a dresser. Behind a curtain was a bed. I sat on the bench and made as much room for the rest of my team as I could. That’s when I noticed someone was on the bed. I could only see a dark figure in the shadows.
Eventually, the woman, Mulee, told us about her daughter, Yapseelah. Yapseelah is 17 and very ill.
When Yapseelah was seven, she was running down a path like all kids her age, when she fell and hit her head on a rock. Since then, she has had debilitating headaches. The further along she got in school, the more her head hurt. Finally, she had to quit school because concentrating hurt too much.
Mulee pulled back the curtain and we saw Yapseelah there on the bed, curled into a ball.
I glanced at Yapseelah and my heart started to pound. I didn’t know what was happening, but I was overwhelmed by love and concern for her. It got hard to breathe. I tried my best to listen to what was being said around me—more talk about the doctors and her prognosis—but it felt like something was pressing hard on my chest.
This morning, she was taken to a hospital to get a scan of her brain. The doctors discovered that her brain is still bleeding from the fall—but the doctors don’t know how to treat her. Today, they quadrupled her medication, but no one knows how she’ll respond to it.
“I’m so worried for her,” said Mulee.
“We’ll keep her in our prayers,” said Tesefaye, our translator, just before we had to go.
I knew I had to do more than just say I would pray for Yapseelah on my own. I had to pray for her right then and there. Maybe that would make my heart go back to normal. I knelt at Yapseelah’s bed and put my hands on her shoulder and head. I had never done anything like this before, and it felt both strange and completely natural.
“God, will you heal her?” I cried out.
And then it was like my heart couldn’t hold the love that God had for her—I began to shake as I prayed for her. In that moment, I wasn’t aware of anyone else in the room. All I saw was this girl a few years younger than me, who was simply being a kid, who took one wrong step that has left her in pain for ten years. So I prayed for her for a few more minutes until that feeling of urgency went away. I stood up and my team and I said our goodbyes.
While we kept walking along the path, I thought about what had just happened. I’ve never prayed like that before, nor felt what I had for this girl. Yapseelah didn’t “get up and walk” that afternoon, and I don’t know how or when God will answer our prayers. But I got to feel a little of God’s overwhelming love He feels for her, and I know He is holding her. And yes, I will keep praying that God will heal her.
by Kara, Children at Risk DTS student
Sonaji is a curious seven-year-old who was abandoned by his parents.
The first child I saw at the orphanage for kids affected by HIV/AIDS was a little boy with a crusty nose. I could see curiosity and fear in his eyes as he scanned our group. I’m a really friendly person who loves to draw out shy people — especially kids. So I walked over to him, but he just turned and ran away. I kept my distance until he could feel more comfortable with us, but I still followed him around the building. He bent down to pick up a dirty, plastic bag. I thought he was just being helpful, cleaning up the garbage. But then it hit me — this bag was his toy.
The second day we were there, this little boy still looked worried and afraid of us. Everything inside of me just wanted to scoop him up and hold him, but I let him have his space. We had a dance party for the kids–so much fun! The music blared, kids sang, we danced together. And then a small hand slipped into mine. I looked down and saw the little boy, his eyes wide open and staring at me.
One our third and last day at the orphanage, this little boy sat outside waiting for us. He immediately grabbed my hand and tugged me behind him. We played for the rest of the afternoon! I learned his name was Sonaji. We had so much fun playing–bubbles, chalk, tag, card games! Everything we did brought such joy to his face.
When it was time to go I picked him up and said goodbye.
“Come tomorrow?” he asked, looking me right in the eyes.
“No,” I said, shaking my head.
Sonaji furrowed his brow and scowled. I understood how he felt.
Sonaji and Kara play and laugh together
I walked back to Dr. Edwards’ office and scanned the board of HIV-positive names, this time matching their names to the faces I had come to love. My heart sank as I saw the name “Sonaji” written in bold letters on the board.
The ride home was silent except for the quiet sobs of some of my team mates. Even now as I write, I feel a lump in my throat.
My visit to the HIV home has left my head swimming with 1,000 questions. All I can do is rest with a peace that God loves these kids even more than I do. I close my eyes and pray, “Dear God, I pray for healing of little Sonaji, I pray that he would feel your comfort and that he would live a long happy life. Please be close to him. Amen.”
by Kayonna, Children at Risk DTS student
We hiked down a dusty path to the village for the New Year’s Eve celebration. All around us, people were dancing, playing music, and serving exotic foods. What stood out to me the most, though, was one woman named Mary.
Mary holds Micah, the youngest team member
After the party, my team and I sat on a porch that overlooked the village, drinking tea together. Mary came over and sat with us. She began to tell us her story, but it wasn’t like any other story that comes from the lips. Mary spoke only with her hands.
Her hands formed her words as she pantomimed her life story. She told us about her husband who would come home drunk every night. He often tried to throw their daughter in the garbage. Finally, he left. But Mary’s daughter also left and lives with someone else.
My heart broke to learn of Mary’s difficult life.
The next night I met Mary’s daughter who is now six. Mother and daughter stood side by side, as if they weren’t even related. There was no connection between the two. Then Mary reached out to her daughter, to hold her close and smooth her hair. But her daughter would have none of it. She just yelled and pushed Mary away.
It was hard to see such a beautiful woman leading such a difficult life and being rejected by the people who should love her the most. I’m glad that God sent us to her village and that I got to know her story. I hope that the time we spent with her will be a balm to the wounds in her heart. I hope that even though she couldn’t hear the words we said, that she could see the love in our eyes. I know that God can speak to anyone’s heart, whether or not they can hear with their ears.
It’s my prayer that Mary KNOWS God’s unshaking, unchanging, unfailing love.
Allison’s story, Children at Risk DTS student
As I sat on the back porch of the YWAM Madison training center with my prayer group, the feeling of Christmas was all around. The snowflakes fell outside and the warm fire crackled in the wood stove as we listened to God for how to pray. It was still weeks until we would leave for India, but as I closed my eyes and prayed, in my mind I saw a picture of a little Indian girl.
Allison and Mia
She was beautiful and small, stretching out her arms for me to pick her up. I wasn’t sure what to make of this vision at the time. I just thought God was showing me that the kids we would meet have a great need to be loved. As our busy class schedule continued, I never really thought about the picture of the little girl again. And before I knew it, we were off to India.
A week and half into our outreach in Pune, India we had a day for the street kids. We brought about fifteen kids off the street for the day to bathe, clothe, feed, and love them. I didn’t really know what to expect going into this day, but as the children came into the apartment, I instantly fell in love!
A tiny three year old girl named Mia became quite attached to me. After her bath, she came out shivering. I scooped her up in a blanket and just sat there holding her as she nuzzled up against me. She stayed there for almost the whole day, only getting up to play with the balloon animals we made for them. At the end of the day, I waved goodbye to this precious little girl, knowing that I would never forget her.
A few days later, during my devotional time, God reminded me of the vision he gave me back in Wisconsin. At first I was confused, not knowing why he had brought it back to my memory. As I sat there trying to figure out what God was saying, the vision of the little girl kept coming in my head. I realized I knew the face of that girl. That girl was Mia!
