… little wonders can just be kids …

Today is a day I am giving thanks to my Father God right from the minute I woke up, seeing Heather sleeping diagonally on our bed, opening the curtain letting the sun streaming through our bedroom, receiving Paul’s creative way to greet me “Good morning, my birthday girl”, I give thanks to my Father God in so many unspeakable ways.  Yet He is graciously affirmative in reminding me that, while I am enjoying all these wonderful ordinary things in life, my eyes shall not turn away from others who are suffering minute by minute in a brutal way. 

I decided to read once again a friend’s post of a week old.  The picture she painted with her words is more than enough to remind me that whilst I will be out celebrating with Paul on this special day.  There are children ….   

“a child brothel area in a small village outside of Phnom Penh hosts children’s program every Monday, Wednesday and Friday for the local kids. The afternoon was full of stories, songs, screaming, running, balloon popping, hand holding, name asking, coloring, creating, loving and impact.”

I stop reading and think of that is exactly what Heather loves doing these days.  Her drawings remind me of what the children there are drawing too with their crayons.   I keep on reading ..

“I’m speechless.

I had gone before.  This time was different then the last time i visited though. The background, the stories, the rooms; were explained more to me.

The program is run in an old brothel. In the past it was just a skinny dark hallway with cubicles on either side; maybe 7 feet by 7 feet. Now it’s a big room where kids run and eat and play and just be kids. At the back of the room though stands one single cubicle. Left as a memorial to an innocent little girl who was raped to death in it. The finger prints still on the walls. The wooden bed still remains.”

I am thinking about that little girl.  She is the reason for them to keep the room. To prove to her that we won’t forget. But we won’t just sit. We’ll remember her and we’ll play. These kids can play. Even though 80% every night become sex workers. Every night! On Monday, Wednesday and Friday, these little wonders can just be kids.”

I am sitting myself down when I read to here with tears on my cheek. 

What are you doing now when you read to here?  I suggest that we should all get down on our knees and pray for these little wonders.

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