Sitting in the sometimes-broken plastic chairs at the once-white tables sprinkled with bodies busy over homework and tic-tac-toe, their little voices, quiet but loud, whisper parts and pieces of the pages of their story to me. The older one tells me “Our baby brother is in Lubbock; we never get to see him.” Solemnly, carefully, she whispers, “This is our third foster family this year.” The little one, more rough around the edges, has to run from any affection--she guards her heart and tells me, ”This is my last day at Youth World. I am going home to my real family soon.” The older one tells me this isn’t, and can never be, true.
These two sisters--I cannot sit still until I tell their story.
So I bend over to pick up the pieces of their days, weeks, months, years, not to fix it and glue it all back, but to just share their powerful testimony.
Second grade and third grade but far apart
Growing up too fast made space, not ages
Before my ask she shared her bleeding heart
In pain-tainted boldness she turned pages
“Will you pray for me, here,” breaking to kneel?
Her third grade hands with little dirty nails
She holds her parents up in them, to heal
The screaming abandonment, pray for bail
Squinting to look for her role, she protects
328 miles from baby
Logistics break court-appointed visits
The little, stuck on “home,” facts say that’s crazy
I bend over, on my knees, to hug
Maybe abandonment isn’t real love
Youth World has given these girls hope in the midst of the brokenness they experience, just as hope can be given to the community during this time of unrest for our world. Youth World believes relationship and service doesn't stop, and we have so enjoyed loving on our community in creative ways. It is our desire to inspire hope, now more than ever.