On making an orphan cry

I've made it a point to NOT talk much about my day-to-day professional work life here in the Den.  That's by design.  The point of this blog is not to go on and on about what I might be doing at work or to rag on my job or my employer, who I need not mention.  Far too many people have been fired invited to find other employment because of a blog post written in the heat of the moment. 

That being said, I'm going to ask you to indulge me for this post.  Yesterday, I had the opportunity to visit a local orphanage as a part of a work volunteer service group.  Now don't get all Dickensian on me and envision the worst (I'm talking to you, li'l orphan Annie) but don't go all "Oliver" on me either.

Please, sir, may I have another?

We worked at a well-kept, comfortable, large and secure home that serves as an orphanage for a group of children between the ages of 3 and 11.  The facility serves children who have been abandoned or removed from their homes permanently due to abuse, etc.  They've seen more in their young lives than anyone of would want to imagine.

Our first task was to work the kids on their homework.  The kids' regular tutors were there and we could pick any table.  I found a table with a fourth-grader and his tutor.  The boy was whip-smart and was cruising through his list of spelling words.  Shortly after that, another boy, about six years old, was brought to our table and that's where things went south.  As he sat down, I turned to him and said hello.  He took one look at me and let out a shriek of pure terror and burst into a gale of tears.  My heart, which is notoriously hard, essentially shattered in that moment.  I feared instantly that I reminded him of someone who had done him harm.  I was helpless for those quick few seconds before one of the staff was at his side.  She quickly calmed his fears and assured him that I was OK.  She then turned to me and soother my fears as well.  She encouraged me to start reading the boy a book and that's what I did.  It wasn't long before the tears dried and a smile cracked.  Before long, we were negotiating the best way to make the letter "Q."  It wasn't long before we had to move on to some other tasks.  I was thrilled that this boy was still smiling as I left.

We did several other things while there that were incredibly rewarding.  The experience is still very near to me, and dare I say, tender.  I'm still reeling at the depth of depravity and evil in the world.  These young children been abused in unbelievable ways and now face an uphill battle to NOT have the system fail them.  I was uplifted by the work of the staff at this specific place and it gave me hope.  In spite of the evil out there, there are good, good people and they are doing good things. 

As I told my family about this experience, we are considering how we might give back this Christmas season.  We're looking forward to finding a project or two that allows us to make life better, if even for a few minutes, for someone.  It's something we need to do because we have been tremendously blessed.