A Poem for Andrea...

For Andrea...

From the roof of the house

The clouds float free

Clothes flutter on the line

In sweet liberty
 

But down below

The baby screams

And Mama's heart

Rips at the seams

Her care so tender

Care so sweet

Won't give my brother

Something to eat

Hunger's a chain

Her love can't break.

From the roof I see planes

Full of men whose eyes

Can't see down here

Where dreams wait to fly

Because down below

It's hard to hope

When dad walks in

And his spirit's broke

No clothes, no shoes

No school, no bread

Just a life like his

Waiting up ahead

Despair is a chain

Dad's love can't break

From my roof in wonder

I see birds flit free

To nests tucked snugly

In the hollow of a tree

But down below

My house is made

Of rusty tin

And cardboard saved

From the dump nearby

And stacked just so

Like a house of cards

(hope the wind doesn't blow)

Fear is a chain

That makes my heart quake.

On the roof in a crack

Grows a single flower

Dress so pink, so pretty 

Displays God's power

But with flower in mind

In my rags I stand

Dirty feet, broken teeth

Filthy face, grimy hands

When I look in the mirror

How can I feel free

To believe God created

Me wonderfully?

Neglect is a chain

My heart can't escape.

On the roof I can sit

And feel the rain fall

Without a care from the sky

To wash us all...

But cares are heavier

Than the bucket I dip

From the muddy hole

For a long, hot trip

To thirsty tongues

Waiting hands

The water of life

Into rusty cans.

Disease is a chain

Just waiting to break.

But from my roof one day

I saw winding through

The streets of my village

You, You, YOU.

Down below you stopped

And we all ran near

Me, and the other kids

Curiosity beat fear

You filled hands with candy

We played a game

But most of all

You snapped my picture...you asked my name.

Anonymity was the chain

you broke that day.

Now on the roof, after school

While reading your letters

The sun on my face shakes off
clouds like fetters

Now down below

I'm starting to see

That you're right when you say

That God loves me

There's food on the table,

My brother laughs long

At my dress like a flower,

At moms sweet song.
At dad coming home
(the new skills he's learned
at the center brought hope
with an income earned)
At my face in the mirror
Your words like a salve
Remind of the beauty, the worth
The potential I have.

Hope is breaking chains

In Jesus' name, In Jesus' name.
Now we have hope
In Jesus' name, in His sweet name.

--Kim

This poem is about a real little girl. My little girl.

I met her by accident (or by Divine appointment) on my first sponsor tour to the Dominican Republic. We were visiting Altagracia Herrara, the community served by DR245. It is a slum built on a hillside...117 steps take you to the bottom where a trash-filled river breeds disease. The houses are stacked one on top of the other with drops of ten, twenty, thirty feet down between them. Children are everywhere.

After our home visit about half-way deep into the slum, our group began climbing to the top in the hot sun. After a while we stopped to rest on a rooftop...and the children began to shyly approach. One little girl, for some reason, caught my eye.

Her hair and teeth were discolored from malnutrition. She wore no pants. I gave her a handful of candy and she looked at me like she couldn't believe that I really meant to give her that much. When it was time to go, I asked her name...Andrea. I snapped her picture. When I got back to the bus I had to know about her from the project director. Although clearly in need, she was not a part of the Compassion program.

I told them I wanted to change that.

What ensued was a series of miracles.

I didn't know that sponsors don't just ask for kids.

I didn't know that DR 245 hadn't registered a new child in 4 years.

I didn't know Andrea had been born with a cleft palette and needed desperate dental attention.

I didn't know that her mother, Marie, had a sister who escaped the desperation of Alatagracia Herrera through Compassion's Program. Marie was never a sponsored child  and had lived there for 18 years.

I didn't know that Marie had prayed for her two older children to receive sponsors without an answer.

I didn't know that she had given up hope for Andrea to ever have one.

I didn't know that Marie had watched us from the window of her home on that rooftop that day.

But I found it all out when I went back to the DR six months later.

This is a picture of me with one of the sweetest little girls in the whole world, right in line behind my own little princesses.

 Her smile, mangled by the cleft palette, is one of the most beautiful smiles I have ever seen. Even though she hadn't received a letter from me yet, she remembered me and flung herself into my arms. Everything we did that day was new to her and it was a delight to see her joy and enthusiasm. All day, she was either holding my hand, sitting on my lap, or riding on my husband's shoulders. On the ride home, she fell asleep against my shoulder.

This girl is a precious treasure. I met her in despair; but that little girl isn't around any more. Andrea's face is a face of bright, sparkling, precious hope.

Don't you agree?