Day Four — Little ones to Him belong

We kicked off today with breakfast and a devotional from Tina. Tina, from Louisville, Ken., joined our team late and is a valuable addition to the trip. Her background in missions and team organizing is evident.
Once again, we returned to Merkato. We walked a short distance from the street children center to a church to spend time with the children in LIA's at-risk children's program. The church is essentially a series of rooms behind the same metal facade of the rest of the area's structures. It is much bigger inside than you'd think. The large room where the students are is even built using the same bricks and paint found in our schools back home. Inside are rows of children, ranging in ages from roughly 8 to 16. They are very happy to see us. Many are shy and sneak quick glances of our faces. Others, like those on the streets, extend their hand just wanting to touch you. Some boys rub their hand on my arm hair and pull at it. I act like it hurts to make them laugh. (It actually did hurt, but I eventually stopped crying.) We get to the front of the room, which, back home, could maybe fit two cars bumper to bumper. Here, there are about 150 children.
We introduce ourselves and Debelle has each of them repeat our names. Then, they each introduce themselves. Yes, every one of them. Many are shy and find it difficult to stand up and say their name. Debelle encourages these children to stand with confidence. Others are proud to share who they are. Debelle shares the meaning of nearly every child's name. Examples include covenant, resurrection and strength.
A few children are then invited to share their stories. The first is an older girl who told us yesterday in her classroom that she wants to be an engineer. Like yesterday, she's intelligent and outspoken. She proudly tells us of her nation's history and her dream of attending college in America only to return to help the street children of Addis Ababa.
The second child, Benjamin, 13, (although he looks much young) moved us in a different way. Wearing an orange hoodie and jean jacket, he stood before us and told his story with help from Debelle. His father left when he was young and told his mother she could get rid of him if she wanted to. His family now lives in the kitchen of another family's house. The other family regularly "discourages and disappoints" them. A few sentences into his story, he begins wiping away tears.
"I don't forget what my mother do in my life," he said. "She is my cause for reaching here."
He said the at-risk project allows him to have an education. He wants to be a "science researcher."
Debelle put his arm around Benjamin as if he's the father the boy never had, and kissed him on the cheek. You can tell he feels each child's pain with them.
Another girl told how she's lived with her aunt since her father committed suicide after entering a depression from his family's poverty. She shared with us her father's last words to her aunt.
"'I give this kid to your hands. I'm going to go die.'"
This girl told us how the at-risk street children project has given her clothing, counseling and education. She wishes to be a doctor.
Another boy, 10 (who looked maybe 5), had been sitting quietly by our team near the front of the room this whole time. When he stood up to talk, many of us were surprised. The bravery of this quiet little boy was powerful. As he shared his story, he stood there slightly bent over with his face looking down at the ground. His father left him. His mother raised him by begging. She still begs and may have a broken leg. When he finished speaking, Gary leaned over to give him a hug. The boy's crestfallen face suddenly lit up with a bright smile. He just needs love. Rich then pulled the boy into his arms and didn't let go.
Following the stories from the children, members of our team shared their views on the importance of education.
Kelly, a speech pathologist at Ridgeview Elementary School in Olathe, put her teaching skills to work. She explained how she's shy and not comfortable with getting up in front of so many people, but she's inspired by the courage they displayed by sharing their stories. She discussed when she realized how important her education was to her, and shared stories of the students at her school who actually have similar stories to the children in the room. She praised them for their attention and respect, and had them stand up, stretch and then touch their toes. She also shared the joys of being a teacher and working with children.
Then a hand went up in the back of the room. An older boy wanted to tell her something.
"I had in mind what I wanted to do for work," Debelle translated for us. "Looking to you at this time, I decided to be a teacher."
"You will love it," Kelly said, smiling. "It's a wonderful profession."
Kelly then encouraged those who are able to go to school to share what they know with their friends who don't attend.
"I think the future of your community is in the hands of the children in this room," she said.
"Thank you, Kelly," the children shouted back.
Then Lisa spoke. She has a similar background of speech therapy, but works in both school and hospitals settings.
"I went to school for a long time, but every day I learn something new and there is a new person I can help," she told the children. "Without my education, I wouldn't be able to have relationships with people who are very different than I am and who have different needs than I do."
She expressed pride for the children's dedication to their own education.
With some children in the room expressing a desire to be an engineer, Kent spoke about being an engineer for Garmin.
He, too, spoke about the value of education, the blessings that work provides and the importance of his relationship with Christ.
"When I was 10, I learned that Jesus loves me and I know Jesus loves you," he told the kids. "That's why I am here — because Jesus loves you."
Next, the children wanted to sing us a song. It was a beautiful clap-a-long tune that put a smile on each of our faces. Then they wanted us to sing. We decided on "Jesus Loves Me" and "All I Need." The line from the first song, "Little ones to Him belong, they are weak but he is strong," rang true today.

Beauty and school

After lunch we went out into the rain (and even at one point, hail) to visit a beauty school. It's one of the training centers where the hardcore street children learn job skills. There we saw Habtamu cutting a young boys hair. It was a cool thing to see him using skills he's recently learned, which, after he finishes training, will help him earn more income anywhere he wants to travel. An intimate, conversational vocation, such as cutting people's hair, is perfect for a young man who has a heart for the Gospel and easing people's pain.
Elsewhere in the school we saw a number of other students, both boys and girls, cutting and curling hair. A flat iron here means metal scissor-like tools that are literally placed on blue flames to be heated and then placed on a woman's hair. Both the hair of the students and their clients is beautiful. Since it's a school, the haircuts, etc., are free. If it were an actual salon, we learned that women would pay the equivalent of $2 for their new hairdo. We told them similar hair stylings would cost at least $70 back home. The women who heard this starred straight in front of them, as if to see what that would look like for them.

A mother (and father's) love

That evening, we went back to the street children project center in Merkato to meet the mothers — and one father — of the at-risk children we met this morning. Walking into the office we saw them sitting near the back, each wearing the most beautiful clothing and headdress. Each is older than you might think, but each is beautiful and dignified. The mothers greet us with strong hand shakes and hugs, and warm smiles. They are excited to see people from last year's trip, especially Peggy, who is a sister to them. One lady, who was apparently infatuated with John last year, quickly ran up to him after seeing him. It does appear as if the crush is still there. John is all smiles. (Debelle often calls John "the longest John" for his height, by the way.)
The center's staff prepared an Ethiopian coffee ceremony for our meeting. These are a big deal here. A woman sat near the door, roasting green coffee beans before our very eyes. Near her sat an ornate set of little coffee cups and plates. They later passed around hot buttered popcorn (we were just as surprised as you are reading this) and small plates of roasted barley. While the coffee is being prepared at one end of the room, we introduce ourselves to the dozen or so mothers and the father, who then introduce themselves to us. They each have between one to eight children.
The parents each spoke about the benefits they and their children have received through the project, including food, clothing, school uniforms, blankets and soap, among other things. The father shared how he, his son and daughter earned money through the project and decided to buy a PlayStation (Yes, that kind of PlayStation) and, essentially, open an arcade. The family made 44 birr last month. When asked what game they play, he said, "soccer." Rich stood up, clapping. He plays that game, too.
It was then coffee time. We are told by one of the center's teachers that coffee, or kaffe, comes from the Kaffa region of Ethiopia. It was actually discovered by goats, who ate the beans and became "excited." Those who witnessed the wired goats apparently said, "I'll have what they're having."
As the coffee cups were handed to each of us sitting in our circle, the few non-coffee drinkers sat between those of us who are coffee addicts to hand over their cups after they at least took a sip. We are proud to say that Kent now likes coffee. He had his first sip, ever, at the age of 46 in the slums of Merkato. Others hand multiple cups. Lizz had five.
Peggy then spoke to the mothers in the room.
"God has given you a special heart, one that cares for people," she said. "You will be the ones who make a difference in Ethiopia because of the love you give your families and communities. You have a special place in God's heart. I pray that I will always remember you, but I am human. I may forget one day, but God will never forget. He will always remember."
The mothers then waved their hands toward Peggy, as if to direct God where to send a blessing.
One mother stood up and shared how last year's visit from our team blessed her.
"Last year, some of you went into my home and prayed for me and this year I am observing many changes," she said. "My child is doing well and I am able to provide for my family. My son is in school and he is doing well. I also observe changes in my business and I am very comfortable."
Another shared a similar story.
"After you touch my home the blessing for my home was visible, I assure you," she said.
Alison, who the mothers were excited to learn is the daughter of Doug and Jan from last year's trip, spoke about the importance of parental support in her life and the struggles she has as a mom that these mothers likely share.
"I'm so proud of your beautiful children and how you are raising them," she said. "I will continue to pray for your families."
Kent spoke about the importance of keeping Christ as the center of his family. Peggy spoke again how God will never leave the mothers and will always be with them. Following the talks, the mothers asked us to pray for them. One said her daughter is sick. Another said her daughter has fallen away from Christ. Jeff led us all in prayer for the mothers, the father and their children.
Then, to thank us for our teachings and encouragement, the parents and staff sang two songs for us. Each was moving, worshipful and joyful. We clapped our hands with them as they sang. The mothers even did the high pitched "leyleyleyleyleyley" chants, which essentially means hallelujah.
Hearing these songs, your spirit is lifted, a smile grows on your face and you are grateful.
Then, as we said goodbye, we took turns hugging each of the parents. Small Ethiopian mothers give the best bear hugs ever.