I had braced myself for the reality that awaited me, knowing that children's homes in Mexico would be vastly different from those in the US. But nothing could have prepared me for the overwhelming shock and heartache I felt upon arriving. We passed the concrete wall that barricaded the home and the 15 foot gate slammed behind us as we drove through. We emptied our car and children trickled out slowly, one at a time. The trauma and sadness etched into the children's faces spoke volumes, far beyond what words could convey. One of the teenagers, sat in the corner, never looked up as could barely even say her name, when asked. Their meek voices faltering under the weight of their past experiences.
The physical conditions were stark. With no air conditioning and only a few working fans, the heat was stifling. When I asked some of the kids what they wanted us to bring back, three of them said, "new pillows." Here in America, children would ask for the latest gadgets, air pods, or new TVs. Yet, these children, in their simplicity and need, asked for something as basic as pillows. My heart sank. The disparity in our worlds was laid bare in that moment.
Speaking with Irma, the director, through our translator, Melissa, my preconceived notions were shattered. Like many who come from fortunate backgrounds, I had assumed that toys, candy, and treats would top their wish list. I couldn't have been more wrong. She explained that what they really needed were lice shampoo, good deodorant, antifungal cream, Ziploc bags, and even loaves of bread. We went through their Amazon wish list, removing the unnecessary items and adding what was truly needed.
In our discussions, I suggested keeping bracelet kits for an activity for us to do during the Viaje Uno. Irma thought it was a great idea because the teenagers could make and sell them, earning their own money and learning how to budget and prepare for adulthood. She explained that when the children turn 18, they are released into the world to fend for themselves. Unlike in the US, where many high schools teach trades and skills, children in Mexico do not have such privileges.
These children come from backgrounds of child abuse, abandonment, and environments rife with prostitution, rape, human trafficking, and drugs. The trauma they’ve endured necessitates that the girls and boys be separated most of the day, except during meal times and require constant supervision. I can't go into detail about their stories because they are not mine to tell, but believe me when I say they are far worse than any stories I've heard here, even after 12 years of fostering for Child Protective Services. From the moment we left until the moment we returned, I felt God’s protection and blessings on this planning trip. But after several hours at the home, I felt so defeated. How could we possibly make a difference with the few thousand dollars we had? The need was just so immense.
On my way home, I couldn't stop thinking about the dire needs Irma had discussed and how these teenagers would be sent into the world with nothing. The word "sustainability" kept echoing in my mind. How can we create something sustainable for the home? I don’t want to be part of a mission team that swoops in, brings toys and candy, and then leaves, only to return the next year. We need to make a lasting difference.
I'm still brainstorming and discussing possible ideas, but I'm thinking about building raised garden beds, bringing sewing machines to make pillowcases or curtains, or providing beads to make bracelets. My vision is to create something that lasts, something that will help these children and teenagers not just for a few days, but for years to come.
Please pray with me as we figure out how best to help these children and teenagers who have endured so much before finding Irma, and Casa Hogar Vision de Amor. Together, we can find ways to make a long-term impact and provide them with the stability and hope they so desperately need.
No comments:
Post a Comment