It's 4am. Between the curtains I can see the first light of day. I already hear movement outside the door... a washing machine lid closes and the water begins to run... a door is opened and closed here and there... little sleepy voices and footsteps... birds, wind, laughter...
It's our last day at Ima's... our last day with the kids. I sit quietly and try not to wake Brandon. I begin to think about each child I've met and each child who has sweetly reached into my heart and graciously asked to write their name there... they've shared their lives and their stories with me, when it was painful, embarrassing... they shown such integrity and maturity in their regard for one another.
In an orphanage like this one your siblings are gifts picked by Gods own fingers from the devastating, disappointing and dying garden of human affliction and planted next to you with love, compassion and highest regard. These children are the epitome of iron sharpening iron...
I went to Ima's home to pour an all encompassing love into these little hearts but I found that instead of reaching the end of my supply, the end of my patience, I was given in return a forever lasting kind of love.
On this day I sat with the older girls and through Andrea's talent with the English language they painstakingly shared details of their abuse and neglect stories. They spoke clearly and confidently. Every now and then a solemn face or a confused expression but not one tear... their strength shocked me but it paled in comparison to the forgiveness they had found in their hearts for each wrong.
Not long after this Brandon came to share our plans for the day and told me when we'd be leaving the kids and going to Manila. Although I'd been resolved not to cry as the girls shared their stories the thought of leaving some of the strongest and most willing to love little people I've ever met was just too much... tears stored up for a week began to fall down my face and suddenly little fingers weaved themselves into mine, little hands wiped away my tears, little voices "no cry Ate Miranda!" In Tagalog, the language the kids speak... ate means sister.
My time with these kids changed me like I knew it would but it also gave me an even better, more tangible understanding of Gods love and his unending, boundless grace. I have so many stories to share and so many thoughts I want to leave you with but the true theme of my time at Ima's Home was forgiveness... when it doesn't make sense, when it seems impossible, when you've been wronged and it has caused you unbelievable pain... if these sweet children can forgive, so can we. If He finds us worthy of forgiveness even in our darkest moments then it follows that we can find each other worthy of it in our offenses and abuses of one another.
If you find yourself in the middle of a full life, living within the great abundance of Gods love, I implore you to give it away... he will replenish, resupply and reward your heart.
XOXO
Miranda
P.S. Ima's Home for Children is a private organization and is solely supported by people who have found a heart for this cause, please consider a donation! You won't regret it! You'll be hard pressed to find a more deserving bunch of people.
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