Saturday, August 3, 2013

Necesitando A Amar (Segunda Parte)

You need to hear the end of this story (it isn't what you think).

A couple of nights ago, I was walking home and found myself alone with the boy from my last post. As soon as he asked me if I could help him translate more stuff for the girl who wrote to him, I suddenly felt God tugging at my heart and realized it was time to break the news.

Watching for his reaction, I told him she wasn't coming back. He looked at me in surprise and recited the date he thought she was coming. I shook my head.

"Next year?" he asked.

"I have no idea, man. It's possible, but it's possible she won't."

I told him I was sorry she wasn't coming back. I told him that even if she did, people like her and I have our own homes in the States and have to return eventually. I told him about me and the Casa Belen girls, and about how even though I had wanted to go back to them, God had different plans. I told him it wasn't right for me to make a promise like that because I'd had no idea whether or not I'd actually be able to come back.

Reaching the porch of La Posada, we sat down in the rocking chairs. He said nothing, just listening quietly.

I told him that a lot of people have disappointed me too. But I told him that there was one person who has never left me, has never let me down, and that's God.

I kept pausing, feeling like I was talking a lot and hoping to hear something from him. But still, nothing. I even asked him at the end if he wanted to ask me anything, but he said no.

And then, calmly, he walked inside.

I was stunned. Of course I was happy he wasn't hurt, but I couldn't believe it. He had wanted to tell her that he loved her with all his heart and soul. And now, without a tear, he shrugged it off that she wasn't coming back.

Confused and dead tired, I went to bed and decided to call my super-wise mom in the morning. I explained the whole conversation with her and asked her why in the world the boy didn't show any reaction.

"Honey, there are two possibilities here," she said. "Either he truly believes that God will never leave and he's holding on to Him, or he's used to being abandoned and is just pushing it down with all the other times this has happened."

The first case was doubtful. Though he's fourteen, his attitude reminds me of a mischievous ten year old. I examined the second case, and realized that was even sadder than him crying about it. Despite the passionate words he'd written on paper, they were just another desperate plea he wasn't confident in. Words he'd say over and over again until someone took them. But they didn't hold any actual significance, as he'd say them to anyone, so that meant that he's essentially being dulled to love. I've heard of many kids who've been like this, and it killed me to see that it was happening to him too. Mom also said all this abandonment he was pushing down would make it hard for him to trust and hold onto people in the future. All we could do now was pray that that wouldn't happen.

Mom also mentioned that I should ask him why he wasn't sad, but I kind of disregarded that in my head. As far as I understood, the story was over.

Then, tonight, while washing dishes next to the boy, I felt that tug on my heart again, and I deccided to ask him about his reaction.

"Why weren't you sad?" I asked him. "The words you wanted me to translate, they were pretty serious."

"I was, a little bit," he said.

"A little bit?" The words I'd translated didn't justify just being "a little" sad. 

"I thought you would be a lot more upset," I told him. "How were you just a little sad?"

And then he said something that cut straight to my heart.

"Because in my room that night, I prayed."

He.....prayed?

Not really knowing what else to ask, I just asked why.

"I always pray. I believe in God."

He smiled up at me, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes as I smiled back.

"That's awesome dude," I said.

He went inside as I turned away and walked off to the table where I do my prayer time. And I began to weep. Because I'm amazed that a kid who has been abandoned and put down over and over can keep from breaking because he truly believes that God will make everything okay. That he can love God and have faith enough to be joyful through even another broken hope.

I called my parents and told them the whole thing. Once more, my mom said something typical of her super-wiseness.

"Think of how much suffering it's taken for him to earn that kind of faith."

This kid has suffered a lot. I don't know his story, but I do know he's in an orphanage. I do know he's not being raised by his parents. I can't imagine being in that situation. He inspires me, because he is a true example of loving God despite whatever circumstance. I love God and am convinced that if I really want to get to know him and be in the center of his will, then there's gonna have to be some suffering.

I haven't gone through suffering. Not yet. I've hurt, of course, we all have. But I have not had life-shaking stuff happen to me like he has. I have a nice house, awesome parents, an incredible girlfriend, and a great education. I haven't had to suffer that much. But still, I doubt God sometimes. I get angry at him. I second-think promises he's made me.

And then here's this boy in an orphanage with faith like a child that shakes my heart.

I realize that many children in Nicaragua have been abandoned like him. And I know many of them are becoming dulled to love or are having their hearts broken over and over again to the point of depression. And that's what I expected to find with this guy.

But instead, I found life. Instead, I found vibrant, infectious joy. Because he trusts in Jesus.

I think we all can learn from that. I know I can.

Enseñame A Amar

Mark Rodriguez

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