Open Up My Eyes To The Things Unseen.

I don't remember their names.
But I remember their little faces. And I remember the sweet boy with the straight black hair, the under layers all sweaty and matted to his forehead. And the sticky, juice covered arms waving goodbye.

It started with a bandaid on a sweltering hot day in Paarl.

A few moments earlier I started giving some stickers to the kids hanging around while we set up. Innocent enough right? Until hundreds of kids started pouring through the fence of the library parking lot, over to the van, like a sweaty swarm of ants. I have no idea how the word spread. They must have a secret code or maybe the emit some kind of sticker pheromone signaling the others to come. Needless to say I had made a bad decision.

But back to the bandaid. They were four boys, probably ranging from about three to six. After the bandaid distribution they were my shadows for the rest of the day. And probably the most mischievous little rascals there, save the sweet one with the sweaty hair, I think he was the one keep them alive. During the evangecube presentation [which was done in three different languages...way to go team] I held two on my lap. Telling the others "hou op!" between their flailing arms and trying in vain to get them to sit still and listen.

Their wide eyes and tooth and gap smiles beaming up at me when I handed them paper and crayons at crafts. Excitedly showing me their sticker-ed creations for a high five and a good job. Pushing and shoving each other all the while. One came to me in tears, pointing to his friend. Then he proceeded to kick the assailant while I held his tear streaked face on my shoulder.

And then we got in line for getting food. That's when all hell broke lose. More tears. Running out of line. Shoving their way back in. I think I put one little boy back into line about fifty times. It was like trying to catch a greased pig or watermelon in a pool, neither of which I have actually done, but I can imagine it is something like this. One of them just ran to the front and pushed his way in, probably squeezing through the fence, proudly bringing his sack over, which only made the other two more obstinate.

Cute as all get out, but dang, were they naughty. Unruly, and antagonistic. Most kids pinch their friends while you aren't looking. Not the case with these boys. They would slap each other with their right hand when I was holding their left. While I was helping package food bundles they were suddenly at my knees. I walked them back over to the exit where Caleb was standing guard. He didn't even see them come in. Not two minutes later they were back again. This time we watched them. The little scoundrels were sneaking under the fence. After squeezing under again I tried to put them to work helping, but for the second time today, bad judgement call. I marched them back outside and let Caleb explain the rules.

At that point though, I didn't care if they crawled through a hundred times.

I left them snacking on fizzers to help with food prep, suffering from a lack of words. A moment ago all three of the littlest ones were pulling on my hands, insistently saying something in Afrikaans which I tried in vain to understand. Finally admitting defeat, I brought them over to Geoffery to interpret.

Geoff smiled and said, "They are saying they want to sleep where you sleep. They want to go home with you."

I looked at their tiny little smudged faces. Hugging them all at once. "Ek es lief vir jou" was all I could manage to say. I love you. I couldn't bring myself to tell them that I couldn't, that I would be leaving in a few minutes.

I bit into an extra popcicle after everyone had received a lunch and headed back outside the fence to say goodbye to my little gang of "seuns". I broke my melting popcicle into pieces and plopped them into their hands. I hugged them once more, wishing I could do more than supply them with chunk of frozen juice.

Then I got locked out. I thought for a second that they might leave without me. When the library guard [yes, a library guard] finally came over to unlock the gate and I joined the group in the vans, I kind of wished they would have left me behind with those little scoundrels.

I couldn't stop thinking about them as we drove away from Paarl. What would possess a little child to tell a complete stranger that they wanted to go home with them? They spent about two hours with me and they want to come sleep where I sleep.

Open up my eyes to the things unseen.

The reality is that these boys probably raise themselves. Their lives most likely void of direction and love. They were naughty because they probably didn't know any better. They wanted to leave with a stranger because they probably don't get hugs and high fives or bandaids and pieces of a frozen popcicle.

Amazed by the their attachment to a complete stranger, I shared these thoughts with those on the team. Why on earth would they ask to come home with me? Someone said, "They experienced the love of Jesus." I humbly pray that they did feel that, despite the seemingly insignificant things I did. Had they ever experienced any kind of love before?

What brought a little boy to ask a strange woman with pale skin, speaking a different language to take him home? I can only make assumptions as to the answer of that question, with eyes opened a bit wider.