The Least Wanted

God has been gracious in His revelations as of late; He's been speaking to me more clearly in the last week, even above the hubbub and chaos of all the Christmas parties for the kids and my personal holiday activities.

Just over the weekend, He revealed a new "sub"-direction in the calling I've been pursuing; again, as always, the clarity of His message was so sheerly overwhelming that I found myself sobbing like a child even while en route to a party.

Last Saturday, during the Project 6 Christmas party, a mother who I'd never seen before approached me with her sick child - the little girl looked so tired and so very sleepy that she seemed to be falling asleep on her feet. Good thing my sister Mia the doctor was there, and she immediately recognized the symptoms as the advanced stage of an asthma attack. The child was not sleepy - her eyes were rolling back in her head and her flared nostrils meant that she was trying desperately to breathe in through her nose the air that her lungs could not take in. Mia immediately carried her into the Center and attempted to nebulize the toddler, who did not find the treatment comfortable at all! How she cried and screamed as the nebulizer was held over her nose and mouth...but that was a far better situation than being near death without precious air coursing through her system. We ran out of nebules and I had to buy more, and then Mia went off to get an even stronger dosage, but Valerie was still having a very difficult time despite the treatment. Her mother proved to be little comfort - we were to find out through Vanessa, another child and Valerie's neighbor, that she was constantly beaten. The bruise on her forehead showed the extent of the abuse; the fact that she was brought to us in a near-death condition was chillingly telling. For goodness' sake, her mother, after delivering her to us for treatment, promptly left Valerie at the Center, with Vanessa's mother anxiously waiting outside. Mia went to fetch more medicine for Valerie, who fell in and out of an exhausted sleep, and was being watched over by a quartet of concerned children - Vanessa, Gracia, Maricar, Mary - who both comforted and restrained her during treatment. I wanted to cry for sheer frustration and out of an overwhelming sense of compassion; we all made "friends" with the child later on, during a break in the treatment, when I offered her toys and cookies and the kids buoyed her on with kind words. Much later, I was left alone in the office with her, watching her labored, difficult breathing as she slept on. I couldn't do anything but serenade her with the few songs that I knew to play on the guitar, and as I did, I thought of the Christ Child, abandoned and unwanted by a world which sought His death at an early age. This was my Lord, in this broken, abandoned, unwanted child. But at least Christ had a loving Mother and a responsible adoptive father, and Valerie did not even have that privilege. And all I wanted to do was to take her away from her sorry situation and make her feel that she was loved. That's the least a 3-year old deserves...someone else's LOVE.

Later I had to leave Valerie alone, under the watchful eye of household Kuya Toto, because we were short on volunteers and needed to chaperone a group of 50 kids to another party sponsored by a TV network (Kuya Joe Dean had to pick up some donations, and another group of kids had a simultaneous Christmas party at another location, so that took away the remainder of our mission staff). After the festivities, and when we returned to the Center, we found ourselves in the middle of our worst nightmare: one of the kids had gone missing. Juwip, Mike, Joy, and Arnold drove back to Parks and Wildlife to search for the missing child; Nora and I stayed at the Center trying to make contact with anyone who would have an idea where he was and figuring out where the heck he could have run off to. After an agonizing period wrought with prayer and worries that 8-year old Emman might have fallen into the Wildlife lagoon or been abducted, and a CSI-type conversation with the boy's aunt, I asked Juwip et al. to swing by KFC Congressional, where the boy's older brothers would hang out and beg for Christmas alms. And, praise God, that's where they found him! Apparently he'd run off after being brought to the Center, and headed out to try to make a quick buck. The entire time that he went missing, I had been praying, buoyed by the confidence that God would make all things work for the good of those who loved Him, but also with the conscious realization that He had put His flock of little ones under our care, and that we should not lose any of them. And that we should be extra watchful of those He has entrusted to us.

As I reflected upon all of these circumstances yesterday evening, God spoke into my heart and directed me towards a more specific path I believe I have to follow in my calling: He wants me to love the least loved, to care for the least wanted. There are many poor children He's brought into my life, who I love and care for and some of whom are loved and cared for by their own humble families, but I have the strongest sense that He wants me to love and care for those who lack love and care the most. He wants me - He wants us! - to want the unwanted, because He does; to love the unloved, because He does. Because the only way they can be wanted, and loved, is through us. God bless us all.