I just returned from Christmas in Peru. We spent a week delivering gifts to fatherless children and wrapping arms around those who rarely receive embraces. I came home to Christmastime hustle and bustle with traffic jams, crowded malls, and endless parties. In the midst of the persistent Christmas tunes and twinkling, festive lights, I find myself lost in the high mountains of Peru, the strong sun beating down on my forehead and the cool breeze rippling across the grass.
High in the clouds, 14,000 feet up in the air, oxygen was scarce, clean water couldn't be found for miles, and evidences of modern technology were slim. Yet there was so much life. Vibrant hats and shawls bobbed through the fields chasing after little ones. Hands spun new threads, laughter echoed in the valley, animals stirred in the pasture, and the bright sun never ceased shining down in its strength.Down in the city, the same sun cascaded on the hilltops and produced colors I have never seen before.
Our group never stopped moving. Two locations a day, eight days in a row - it was a whirlwind, and to be honest it was exhausting. But every morning and afternoon when we pulled into a new orphanage or home, I heard words that shook me and awakened me to the significance of this group of strangers visiting children so far from home, just to show them a little piece of love over Christmas.
They probably thought we were strange. They probably thought we were typical Americans. But in their hearts, they knew there was something more. "Why would these people come from so far, just to see us?"The forgotten children, the hopeless sons, the abused daughters - even if just for an hour, we got to show them that they are not forgotten, that they are loved, that they have a name.
I watched intently as a young man with special needs slowly opened the backpack he had been given. One by one, he took out each item and carefully inspected his new gifts - a t-shirt, a hat that fit just right, and some really cool shades. The delight on his sweet face was a look I will store away and treasure deep in my heart. Such a small gift - so simple, yet so appreciated and enjoyed by this young man who has little in this world to call his own.
Each child's name was called out one at a time, and they came up to receive their gift. Some skipped in excitement, some charged forward in eagerness and zeal, some quietly walked with their heads hung low. Gratitude and thankfulness were always expressed with the uniqueness of each child's personality.
A home full of teenage moms. Exploitation, absent fathers, so much hurt. The beautiful girls received their gifts with humility and excitement. After an afternoon of nail-painting, crafts, and Bible stories, a bubbly, new-found friend I had made whispered to me as we were leaving: "I always like when your group comes, not just because of the gifts, but because it shows that you remember us and know we are still here."Scattered across Peru, hidden in the crowds of the city or forgotten in the remote highlands above, children long for better lives - stronger families, unconditional love, someone who remembers.
Some have answered the call. Caretakers have given their lives to care for children as their own. Selfless workers persevere through screams, cries, and long days. Saints answer the children's heart-wrenching questions of "Why me?" One noble man sold everything he had, moved to Peru, and devoted his entire life to finding troublesome boys on the streets and giving them a home. Twenty-five years later, I could not hold back my tears as the voices of those now equipped, kind, and thriving boys joined together in a mighty anthem of their proud home - a place where they are united, cared for, and given a new start.
In the dismal circumstances permeating the country of Peru, there were moments of promise, reminders of the work God is accomplishing among people He created, small glimpses of light. After growing up in an orphanage, one young woman set out to start life on her own. With rent bills piling up and costs for college tuition looming, she sought another job but things fell through. At the end of her rope, just when she felt hopeless and was about to give up, she received an invitation to join a Buckner transition home. It was hundreds of miles from her small, rural hometown, but in her desperation she decided with only a moment's notice to leave behind her old life and start fresh in a new city. As she stood in her new room recounting her recent story to me, tears filled her eyes and she explained with much emotion and gratitude, "Buckner was like a bright light in my life when I needed it most. It has given me a second chance."
In the midst of my exhaustion and fatigue, I saw the light of hope filling a country of despairing hearts. For some, children were given mothers, friends became sisters, and the family that each child deserves and yearns for was established. Still, there are so many in need of love, care, attention, and the smallest of gifts.
But even in the depths of the valleys and the desolate corners of the cities, the hot Peruvian sun still shines bright.
"In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." -John 1:4
