A while back, I came through the hall in the evening to find four small boys asleep on the floor. They had pulled their little mats over into a corner together and assumed various positions for repose.
The smallest boy, Pavan, was all sprawled out, as only a child could be, with arms and legs thrown every which way. His mouth was open, and he snored softly.
The tallest boy, Gopi, was cuddled up next to his friend, Sai. The two were resting on each other more than on the thin straw mats, and they were silent and still except for the soft rhythm of their breath.
And my favorite child, Prashanth, was very carefully positioned on his side, hands folded under his head. His hair was all crazy like my little brother's used to be when he too was 10. His face--which is normally so expressive of either mischief, delight, or a pervasive sadness--was absolutely, almost purposefully still.
It only took me a moment to take in this scene as I quietly passed through, but that visual snapshot was printed on my mind like hieroglyphics on stone. My heart just about burst for these little ones who--not long ago--were beaten and used by their family members; cast out; rejected; starving; left behind; begging in the street.
I am so grateful that they were brought here and now sleep soundly, with full bellies and peace of mind. Please pray that Kristin and I will be instruments of love to these little ones who--I'm sure--still struggle with the rejection they've faced. I hope that they will all rest in the knowledge that they are beautiful, unique, gifted, and loved.
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