She spent ten minutes getting her emotions under control.
Deep breaths, Julie. Dry your tears. Then she headed for the dump. She tried not to obsess about her lack of hygiene, but still ended up trying to brush the dust off her dress. My clothes are dirty, hair’s a mess. I stink. I’ll probably never feel clean again.
When she arrived, the girls yelled and the oldest one, wearing a knit grey and yellow dress, pointed toward the boys, yelling something with great fervency. One of the boys, wearing a filthy yellow t-shirt and blue shorts, clung to Julie’s purse. A few other boys had tackled him. He squirmed, unable to free himself. The boy with the missing front teeth was afraid to enter the skirmish. He stood near the littlest girl with the missing sleeve, who was also watching cautiously.
I don’t think I’ve seen the boy in the yellow before, thought Julie. Then her face tightened into a pinched expression. He’s the blue and yellow blur who stole my purse—the little thief!
She waded into the skirmish and grabbed the purse. Not even stopping to thank them, Julie did a quick inventory. English/Indian dictionary and Bible still here. Credit cards here and only a few rupees are missing.
“Thank You, Jesus,” she shouted,
“Frank Yous Jee-sus,” the girls repeated, not knowing its meaning.
As the other boys held Ravi, he resisted. The boy with the scar put an end to his struggling when he doubled his fist and hit Ravi on the side of the head.
Julie flinched. That had to hurt. She looked at the boy being restrained. He has so many injuries; his face is swollen, his chin scraped, and a big gash on his left arm. His clothes are filthy. Nothing new there, but his are also bloody. Now that she wasn’t in such a helpless position in that darkened alley, and now that she had her purse back, this little thief looked pretty harmless, even vulnerable.
Are those tears welling? He’s about Logan’s age. She remembered Logan’s self-assured salute and confident words about escaping the pirates. “I could do that. I’m brave.” She knew in her heart Logan would fare no better than this child.
The first pang of compassion she’d felt since she arrived started to stir in her mother’s heart. For the first time, she didn’t see filthy obligation; she saw a hurting child.
Where are his parents?
As Julie continued to stare, she saw Logan, then the injured boy, then Logan, then the injured boy. He’s so filthy; his wounds need to be cleaned. To her surprise, she felt tears beginning.
When Julie approached him slowly the other boys holding him scattered. He didn’t run; he cowered. Julie spoke gently, “Hello.” He continued staring at the ground. She knelt before him, and with her right hand gently lifted his chin until his eyes met hers.
Ravi looked at her for the first time. My mother’s earrings. His heart leapt in hope, and adrenaline flooded his system. Julie was still speaking, but he didn’t hear. He was too busy watching the colorful beads on his mother’s favorite earrings swing from side to side.
He remembered his birthday party when she had them on. It was several months ago, but it seemed like an eternity had passed since then.
Ravi had been sitting at the table in the highly decorated dining room. Everyone had sung special “aarti” songs and shared small candies and sweets. As the dishes were cleared, his mother had arrived from the kitchen carrying his birthday cake with one candle burning.
“Blow out the candle, Ravi. Happy Birthday!”
After the cake was eaten, he laughed as the other children sprinkled a few grains of rice on his head for prosperity. Next his father had presented him with a leather book with large, colored pictures of the stars and galaxies.
“Astronomy,” his father had pointed to the gold embossed title, “is the study of the sky. When my vacation comes, we’ll go see your uncle in the country. We’ll leave this city, and at night you will be able to see an abundance of stars.”
After the party, Ravi’s mother had tucked him in bed.
“I have a special gift for you,” she had held up a red plastic egg. “Your father is proud of your good grades and always wants you to study, and I know you love science…but I just wanted you to have this.” Ravi had stared, not knowing what to make of it.
“When I was a child, we visited my cousin in England, and she had one— it’s called Silly Putty®. I’ve never forgotten it. I asked her to send me some for your birthday—because even though you’re so smart, I know you like to be silly!” She had squeezed the egg gently until it separated, revealing the tan putty inside.
“What’s it do, Mommy?”
“It does everything. It bounces like a ball. It stretches. When you fold it, it traps air and pops, but the best thing it does is it copies things.”
Ravi’s brow had furrowed. She reached for a comic book on his nightstand.
“Take this and press it on the picture of Colossal Man. Now pull it off slowly.” She had smiled as her son’s eyes lit up.
“Wow!”
“Now for the silly part. Stretch it; watch what happens to Colossal Man.”
“He’s getting taller.”
“Stretch it the other way and he’ll get fat.”
Ravi had been captivated. “Thanks, Mommy, this is the best gift ever. Can I play with it in bed?”
“Just don’t stay up all night. Birthday today, but school tomorrow.” When she leaned to kiss his cheek, her dangly earrings had swept across his neck and tickled him, as always.
He heard a voice and was back at the dump. The woman with his mother’s earrings was still speaking.
“Julie,” she tapped her chest.
“Ravi,” he whispered, and before he could stop himself, he dove into her arms, nearly knocking her off her knees. He wept as he flung his arms around her.
Surprised, she steadied herself and held him close. She clung to him like he was Logan, and he clung to her like she was his lost mother.
He reveled with Julie’s arms around him, holding and rocking him, like his mother.
But you’re different. You don’t smell like my mother. You’re too skinny. You don’t feel like my mother, and you aren’t my mother, and she is never coming back. He made no effort to move, but Julie felt his arms go slack.
What just happened? She released Ravi, and he took a few steps backward. When she looked into his eyes, he hung his head, turned and ran until he was out of sight.
She called after him, but he was gone.
I need to find him. Julie forced a smile and waved good-bye to the orphans. Some smiled, some waved, and some just cautiously stared. She headed in Ravi’s direction, clutching her purse.
She rounded the corner just as a battered green car with a cracked windshield pulled to the curb and the driver scanned the children.
The driver looked for Ravi, then left in a huff. But then he saw another little boy limping down the sidewalk about a block away. The boy had decided to go for a walk to ponder who this woman was who had showed up at his dump.
Mr. Shah pulled over and rolled down the window.
“Excuse me, can you tell me the way to the market? I need groceries. If you show me, I’ll buy you some sweets.” He pushed the door open and the little boy missing his two front teeth scrambled in.
“My name’s Mr. Shah. What’s your name?”
“Sammy,” he said, smiling his gap-toothed grin, thrilled at the attention and the chance to ride in a car.
“Sammy, you look like a healthy young man. What is your age?”
“Six.”
“Well, Sammy, I will buy you a nice sweet for helping me find the market.” He parked the car. “Let’s go pick out your favorite kind.” Sammy reached up and took Mr. Shah’s hand as they entered the store.
“Any sweet you want—you just tell me, and I’ll buy it for you,” said Mr. Shah, pointing to the brightly colored assortment.
Sammy grinned. So many choices. He didn’t have a favorite because he never received sweets. That made it really hard to choose.
This looks good, this looks good. What’s this one taste like? He finally looked to Mr. Shah.
“Well, Sammy, let’s try this,” he grabbed the largest package on the shelf and handed the fruit flavored candies to Sammy, who beamed. Mr. Shah tousled Sammy’s greasy hair and led him to a small cooler where he pulled out two bottles of cola. After paying for the items, Mr. Shah bought spicy chicken kebabs and flat bread from a street vendor.
“You know, Sammy, I always wanted a son. I just live nearby. Let’s go back to my house and eat this chicken and then we’ll have our sweets.” Sammy nodded. What a day today was turning out to be.
Julie searched for an hour, but finally gave up. Every block I get assaulted by a beggar—or a mob of them. I need to go get food.
At the market she selected sandwiches made of unknown meat. She also picked up apples and juice boxes. The Lord directed her to the bottle of multivitamins. I can give them each one, maybe two a day. Walking back to the dump, she checked her dictionary for the words girl and boy.
The children saw her coming with sacks, but they remembered what had happened the last time when they had charged her. She had her purse again and obviously wasn’t afraid to use it. The children huddled together, each trying to be in the front. The whole group was pushing forward toward her like a slow-moving amoeba.
Julie’s heart pounded as she also remembered the previous feeding calamities. Lord, help me, help me, help me. Please. Julie slowed her pace; the children were chomping at the bit, but trying to restrain. Julie stopped walking, unsure of what to do next. She knew she couldn’t keep the hungry children waiting much longer.
The oldest girl, in the grey and yellow dress, turned to the group and shouted directions. She motioned, and the girls all sat on the ground. Then she turned to the boys and pointed. All of them sat, except the boy with the scar. That scar was the first thing Julie always noticed; his perpetual frown, the second. He’s so young to have that adult-sized chip on his shoulder.
Knowing they weren’t going to get fed until there was order, the other boys wrestled him to the ground, where he resigned himself to sit, but not without crossing his arms and wearing an ugly scowl.
Julie moved closer. She motioned for the first girl to hold out her hand. When Julie squirted a large blob of hand sanitizer on her palm, the girl licked it, made a horrible face, and glared at Julie.
I’ll have to teach that lesson later.
Slinging one grocery bag over her shoulder, hopefully out of reach, she handed a sandwich to each child. If the child grabbed, Julie stepped back several feet and waited. When the children realized that grabbing brought the distribution process to a halt, the other children’s scowls and jeers were enough to make them obey. When Julie came to the girl dwarfed by the man’s t-shirt, she jumped up and tried to snatch the whole bag. Julie moved on to the next seated girl. Serves you right; you get to eat last since you can’t behave and you stole someone else’s sandwich yesterday.
A violent pain shot through her right calf. She screamed. The little girl in the man’s t-shirt had bitten her.
You little ingrate. I’ll show you. The girl glared back. Julie continued ignoring her until all the children had received their sandwiches. Julie stood at a distance and tossed a sandwich to the “biter.” By the time the last child received his sandwich, those who received first had already finished wolfing down their treat. The boy with the dog tore off a corner of bread. The dog immediately sat and was rewarded for his trick.
I have three sandwiches left. One for Ravi and one for the littlest girl. Julie could see her standing at a distance watching. Who’s missing? Julie started again and passed out the apples. Again, grabbing slowed the process, but there was less of it this time. She took a step back and tossed the apple to the “biter.” When she distributed the juice, everyone restrained themselves, and the process went smoothly.
One more time with the vitamins. She gave each child two of the chewable tablets. “Sweets” blurted the first child to eat them. The boy with the dog bit his vitamin in half and, after several attempts, the dog rolled over, to the children’s delight, then gobbled the other half of the vitamin.
This girl in the tattered blue and white dress looks like a walking skeleton. I’ll give her three. She obviously needs the nutrition.
The children ate the apple, core and all. Then they dropped the sandwich wrappers and empty juice boxes. Julie pointed to the mess and held out her empty sack. Thinking there was more food, they impulsively pushed forward.
“No. Pick this up; don’t litter.” She pointed to the trash, but received only confused stares. She began to pick up the litter herself. The children watched. Finally the oldest girl helped. Soon the trash was picked up. Julie laid the grocery bag on the main trash pile. She could tell by their faces they weren’t getting it. The boy with the dog grabbed several juice boxes, tore them, open then offered the inside to the dog to lick.
The oldest girl, in the grey and yellow dress, approached Julie and pointed to the little waif watching from a distance, “Nilaya.” Julie hesitated. She seems to be the responsible one. She seems to want to help. Julie let out a breath and handed her the food. She immediately took it to the hungry little girl and returned.
Julie touched the oldest girl’s shoulder, trying out the Hindi word for thankyou. “Dhanivadha.” She beamed at the attention. Julie was riffling through her dictionary, finding the word for friend, and motioned for the girl to sit with her.
“Mithra, Julie.”
“Mithra, Sashi,” replied the girl, eager to earn Julie’s favor. Two other girls sat down, and the rest of the children wandered off. Julie learned the other two girl’s names, Chavvi and Shoba.
Sashi looked about 11 and was taller than all the children. She had long black hair that was greasy and matted. She was the helper and unofficial leader of the girls. Her brown eyes are captivating. Julie noticed that her grey and yellow dress was tight, waist too high and sleeves too short. She must have been on the street for quite a while; this looks like what might have fit her last year.
“Sashi, that’s pretty,” said Julie. Upon hearing her name, Sashi sat a little taller and gave Julie a big smile.
Chavvi was about eight, with short, charcoal-colored hair, and she wore a pink dress with ruffled sleeves and grey trim. It’s dirty, but it doesn’t look that old, thought Julie. Poor thing, she has shoes, but the ends are cut so her toes stick out. I wish I had scissors; her bangs are over her eyes. Julie gave Chavvi a big smile, and she smiled back. She seems a little more mannerly than some of the rest of them. I wonder what her story is?
Shoba must be about ten. She wore a blue and white print outfit, which looked more rag than dress. Her very dark skin highlighted her white teeth, but her countenance was one of sorrow. Her thin, matted hair fell below her shoulders. She has to be malnourished; she’s emaciated, and her hair is so sparse. “Mithra, Julie.”
“Mithra, Shoba,” she smiled and tapped her chest.
Julie noticed the boy wearing the green polo shirt. He was sitting with the dog, cutting different colored plastic shopping bags into strips with a small pocket knife then braiding them into bracelets. That’s clever. I wonder if he sells them. I never see him without that dog.
The wind picked up, and the stench from the garbage washed over Julie. She put her hand over her mouth, but when she felt herself starting to gag, she jumped up and pointed in the direction that Ravi had gone.
“I have to find Ravi. I still have his food.” The girls stood and took a few tentative steps after her. I can’t be dragging three girls along. I can’t protect them. In as kindly a manner as she could she shooed them back each time they tried to follow. Finally, they understood. She smiled and waved. “See you later. Bye, mithra.”
After walking for about 30 minutes up and back on the close streets, she kicked a rock and sent it skittering across the road. Where are you? I’m tired of fighting off beggars—young, old, short, smelly, ugh! You’re making my life too hard. I’m a sweaty, worn-out mess.
Julie. It was the Lord. He’s hasn’t been on the streets very long. He needs your protection and your love. How long would you look if it were Logan?
“That’s different, Lord.”
Is it? His mom and dad loved him as much as you love Logan, but they’re gone now. He has nobody—but you. You’re My hands, and your voice is My soothing voice to these abandoned children. No one sees their value. These precious ones are considered a nuisance.
She looked at the ground knowing she couldn’t give up, even though she was exhausted and hot.
“Can you point me in the right direction?”
Ravi has fallen asleep behind a heap of trash. Two streets down and then left into the alley. Have his food ready—his first inclination will be to run.
“But I didn’t yell at him when I learned he stole my purse. Why’s he afraid of me?”
These children live in a totally hostile environment. Nothing is entirely safe. Every meeting with the police, another youth, or an adult can result in betrayal, abuse, or exploitation. They’re always on alert. They live with an all-encompassing sense of hopelessness. I want them to hope in the face of adversity. I want them to flourish, not just survive.
Julie walked. Am I nuts? Do I really believe I’ll find him? Julie turned into the alley and caught her breath at the sight of a large heap of trash. She pulled the food from her purse and tiptoed. There curled up, lying on the filthy ground, was Ravi. The sight was both disgusting and heart-rending.
His body was still covered with scrapes and bruises. His open wounds were filthy. What if they get infected? His clothing looked even dirtier than before, if that were possible, and the blood was still visible.
He’s just a little boy. How can he survive on his own? She remembered the baby bird she’d rescued. How can I do less for a child? She remembered when he hugged her so tightly then abruptly stopped. The memory tugged at her heart.
She sat quietly beside him, giving him enough room to run if he desired, but close enough to hopefully be a comfort.
“Ravi,” she whispered. If I touch him he might startle. “Raa-vi” she said in a sing-song voice. “Raa-vvi, I have some food for you.” His eyes opened, and the first thing he saw was a sandwich in Julie’s extended right hand, then the apple and juice in her left, then her smiling face and the earrings. He sat up abruptly, and before he could do anything, he caught the sandwich, the apple, and then the juice that she tossed him. His eyes narrowed with suspicion.
Why would she feed me? I stole her purse. What does she want? He remembered Mr. Shah’s kindness. Look how that ended. He stood up, his back against the wall, eyes wide. He dropped the apple, and it rolled toward Julie. She put it in the sack with the extra food and handed it to him.
“I only want to help you. Don’t be scared.” He has such a lost expression.
Ravi took the sack cautiously and slowly moved away.
“Ravi, I just want to be your friend. You can trust me.” What was that word? It started with an “m.” She flipped rapidly through the dictionary as he took a few steps toward the other end of the alley.
“Wait, Ravi, don’t go. I want to help you. I can feed you every day.” She reached for him, but he bolted. “Mithra, mithra,” she yelled, “Julie, mithra!” But he was gone. She buried her face in her hands and breathed deeply. Her heart was heavy.
With a grimace on her face, she dug through her purse and found a tissue. She put the strap over her head, squatted, leaned with her back against the wall and hiked her dress. “Lord, I will never get used to this. I think I’m getting a migraine.”
The sun was setting, and Julie walked quickly to avoid all the homeless who would soon cover the sidewalk. She entered through the gate and immediately slid between the bushes and the house. She hesitated, then gently lay her bag in the dirt and put her head on it like a pillow. She sighed. The events of the day played through her mind.
I can’t believe I have my purse back. Ravi ran from me again. What will happen to him? Where will he sleep tonight? I didn’t even get to give him his vitamins. Lord, will You protect Ravi and all the children at the dump? Will You keep them safe? Amen.
It was night, and the children were all sleeping on the ground. Several of the girls huddled together, but most were spread several feet apart.
Convinced that everyone was asleep, Ravi crept back to the dump and lay under a hedge at the back. He was hidden, but close enough to feel the safety of a group. For the first time since leaving Mr. Shah, I am not hungry. It was a wonderful feeling. He tossed and turned several times, trying to find a position that didn’t put pressure on a wound or a bruise.
Why does that woman have my mother’s earrings? Did she know my mother? What does she want from me? Can I trust her? So many big questions for such a fragile little boy.
One moment Julie was lying behind the bushes wondering about the big hug she received from Ravi, and the next thing she knew, it was morning. That was a kiss from the Lord.
She awoke and was immediately aware of her exhaustion—physical and mental. The blistering heat did nothing to help. The constant noises and the smells, don’t they ever go away? She rolled over and stretched before the demands of the day could impose. Her back ached, her mouth tasted terrible, and her stomach growled. I hurt all over. I can’t believe I’m stuck in this filthy, God-forsaken land—
Julie, no place on Earth is God-forsaken. India may appear forsaken, but it’s only because you don’t have eyes to see and ears to hear what I am doing.
Everywhere you look in the natural realm you see lack, but My Kingdom is one of great abundance. Lack is not in My vocabulary. All riches and wisdom dwell with Me. I don’t wring My hands wondering how I will provide for My orphans today and how I will manage to do it again tomorrow. I am the bountiful God of abundance. I am totally confident in My plans.
My resources and My love are unlimited. I never grow weary. I am always advancing. Let Me guide each step of your day. Walk in My abundant life, learn to trust Me. Don’t worry; cast your cares on Me.1 I will carry what is too heavy for you. Switch your thoughts from your problems to your Savior.
She frowned. “I try, but it’s hard not to worry. I’m here, and my family’s there. I miss them so much. They must be so worried. Plus, I don’t feel like I do any good here,. Everything is messed up.”
Your feelings will lead you astray. I want to do a wonderful work through you. Will you submit instead of fighting Me? I breathed out the stars, and I can hold the sea in My palms.2 Do you think I am unable to care for you and My orphans? Trust is your word for the day. Read the next Scripture.
Julie flipped through the New Testament and finally, in frustration, referred to the index.
“Here it is, Proverbs. Page 900. ‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.’3 It’s easy on paper. It’s hard in life.”