Street Boys…

Where is that cry coming from? Why is that bus just sitting there with police around it? And that boy…across the street…why is he bleeding? Oh my goodness, the wailing is coming from him…I think he was hit by the bus. Surely this cannot be! We wind our way through the crowd and drive in…

The place we enter is called the Dream Center located in Kigali, Rwanda. Last year, Pastor Charles had come to The Well and shared about this ministry and now we are here to see God’s work firsthand. Our purpose is to hang with some street boys…bring it!

We take our tour and are invited to a field where about 100+ boys are just now sitting down to have their breakfast – their porridge. The next four hours we will find ourselves sharing life, laughter, tears, stories and simply enjoy being with one another.

“Lord, this is intimidating.” The lead director tells us to closely watch our two younger boys. This makes sense…but I am afraid I will miss something. “Lord, protect them. Help me to let them go in this crowd of 100+ boys and yet keep me diligent to watch them.” And my daughter…every boy’s eye is on her. If you know Amy, you know she could take any of them down, “But Lord, keep her safe and their minds pure.” As for me…I am struggling with the stench. You gave me this keen smelling nose. And germs? These hands and bodies have not seen a shower in a very long time. The smell is too much- the smell of urine, body odor, feces, boogers and who knows what else is everywhere. How can I touch them? I can’t…but soon I will…

When I first see you, you are standoffish and then in what feels like seconds you draw near. The wee one’s…you are yummy. Can I take you all home? You need a mommy to put you to sleep and hold you. And you teens…what is life like for you on the streets? Do you fear? What have you already dabbled in that you are ashamed of and you think has marred you for life? And you men…are you men?  I can’t tell your age. You look at us with disgust. Almost as if to say, “Where were you when “blank” happened? Today, you are here and gone tomorrow…but we live here daily and there is no way out.” Oh boys, what angers you? Ohhhhhhhhhh yes…that would infuriate me too?

Moments pass and we are all connecting…sharing names and ages. Some of you hold on to me/us for the entire morning. Amy is always surrounded by a group of boys. Bo is captivating the faces with his photography skills. Oh, what beautiful creatures. He snaps a pic and immediately each one wants to see their faces in the frame. Luke and Tekle play “football” and tag. Two other boys gather our family to sketch our pictures. And Brent…he ebbs and flows in and out of the crowd. He is able to connect with all.

Many come and hang on me…thank you for loving me and allowing me to love you. Never did I think my hands and arms could hold so many. I wish I were an octopus! But oh the smell, the physical grime mixed with such emotional hurt and pain. It does not repel but instead draws me into you…each of you. Precious boys, your lives are bleak. Your experiences, if truly were made known, would cause this mother to weep for the rest of her life. Oh precious boys…your life is hard, what do I EVER have to complain of…

A crowd gathers…a teen taken away…he was caught doing drugs in the midst of a group of older boys. Now he stands at the fence, six feet from where Tekle and I are talking to another boy. The angered teen has rocks in his hands ready to chuck them towards our way. His eyes burned with anger and revenge…he did not want to hurt us…but I felt in the line of fire. Quickly I rush Tekle away…and I too walk away. Lord, protect us.

As it begins to rain, we all head indoors to sing and hear God’s word. Chapel time! Wow…the dancing which accompanies the worship is simply astounding. In the middle of the room is a lead acapela singer and not far from him are a few back up singers. Their only instruments are a few drums. But the sound is full…joy abounds…you can’t help but dance. Well, if that is what you call what I did….

Next, Brent preaches…a message of hope. His text is the feeding of the 4,000…the room is packed with the boys and they are glued to his every word. Spirit, fill this room…may these boys know they are loved by Jesus. And He did…

Stage right…enters a 12 year-old boy all bandaged up. He walks in with a limp and sits down. By this time, it is the part where testimonies are given. The boys are encouraged to share what God has done that week. Boy after boy comes up to share…one shares a praise to God that he saved his friends life. Hours earlier, his friend had been hit by a bus and left to die. Instead, he was brought to hospital and who knows what took place there…and released. No mom…no care giver…just enduring another trial- alone. This was the bandaged boy who just walked in, this was the boy we heard crying hours earlier, this was the boy covered in blood and surrounded by police. He is here, with us…alive!

During this time, he cuddles up…already I am surrounded by ten boys vying for my love on a bench made for six. I reach out, around another and keep my hand on him. Wait. He is hot – really hot. Fever? Yes. Even his eyes seem to scream out “I am sick…will you hold me?” But the boy between us makes sure this boy doesn’t get anymore of me than he is already getting. “Lord, what do I do?” Next, the sick boy lays down on a nearby bench…see Leah; he did need to lie down. Urgh! Another shares his testimony and the next thing I know the sick little boy is up front, being held by a man. He is violently shaking…no, this boy is seizing…foaming at the mouth…having a grand mal seizure. Brent and some men come around, lay hands on him and boldly pray. I, too, went up and prayed. Tears came…our friend; Patrick (boda boda driver from Kampala, who came with us to Rwanda) even came and prayed. It felt like an eternity as he lay there seizing. I knew this was not good.

Now the rain goes from showers to pouring down cats and dogs (someone tell me where that expression came from?) It is cold. It is quiet. What is happening to this boy? Did the fever cause it? Does he have epilepsy? “Lord, you keep putting me in the path of kids with seizure disorders.” He urinated all over himself so I go and buy an outfit from the women sewing that day at the Dream Center. We clothe him…he is still out…lifeless…shaking from the cold. This little sick boy I have so come to love you…

Chapel continues, while a small crowd is tending to this boy. I asked what his name was…no one knew…except one man…”Emmanuel, his name is Emmanuel.” I paused and replied, “of course it is…God, with us.”

As I finally held him…while waiting for transport to the hospital to come…I could not stop thinking about him. It was confirmed by the man who knew his name that he does struggle with seizures. But he lives on the street…no one knows his family situation…and this is his plight. How could our son be so blessed to have medical treatment for his seizure disorder…and not this boy?

Since leaving Emmanuel…I have not been able to get his face or that day out of my mind. All we did was show up and spend time with these boys, but we had a blast. The gift of time…the touch of a hug or handshake…a smile…trying to converse and ask questions…all speak love. I love these boys…from Emmanuel to the one who wanted to throw the stone. Each created beautifully…on purpose…for a purpose…but Lord, help these boys to be safe, fed, schooled and absorbed in your love.

What you do today matters…whether you are working with street boys and taking care of your own children. Perhaps you are reading this at work, your fellow employee matters just as much. We so forget the power of a hug, a smile and words. We all have those things and we are all surrounded by those who need them. May today, God’s kids rise up and love those around them.