The other night my Bible study girls and I went to The Relatives - a home for abandoned, abused or temporarily displaced children here in Charlotte. They stay at "The Relatives" until their family is placed in a home (i.e. - is off the streets), or a foster home is found for them.
I didn't know what to expect, but I showed up with our leader, carrying lasagna, salad, bread, watermelon and brownies. From the moment we arrived, the nine children (ages 7 to 17), showed us a warm welcome. They offered to help carry everything. They asked what they could do to help - and over dinner, we talked.
And it struck me, that I'm not sure I've ever had a real conversation with a truly impoverished child. Perhaps I have without knowing it, but this was the first time I went into a situation, knowing the way they have lived and been raised, and sought out a relationship. And what I saw broke my heart.
These are loving kids with so much potential that has never been fully developed due to the circumstances of their lives. One boy about age 12 stated coughing and a boy going into 3rd grade said, "He needs water" - jumped up, and made him a glass, bringing it back for him. He didn't wait for one of the 14 other people in the room to do it. He didn't hesitate when he saw his temporary friend in need - he just did what his heart told him was right.
Another little girl was hungry for love and acceptance. You could see it in the way she hovered around us, asking for any little thing to do - pass out the food, fill the drinks - and you could see it in the way she hugged every single one of us when we left.
I talked to one teenage boy for a while who says he wants to go to college, but he has no idea how he's going to get there. He's being put back in 9th grade for missing so much school up in New York, and now, he's not even sure where he's going to high school. But his dreams, no matter how unrealistic, are pure. He wants to make something of himself - he's just never been shown how.
Two of the older teenage boys played basketball with me and encouraged me no matter how many times I missed the goal. When I made it, they cheered. And even though we were only playing with one ball, they gave the majority of the ball time to me. When they shot, every shot was perfect. One talked of being a basketball player for Duke. The other wanted to become a professional football player - because that's all they've ever been taught they could do.
There was only one teenage girl there, and she lamented being alone. It was clear she had no female role models in her life, but she was sweet. Every single one of them impressed me with their kindness, openness, and welcoming attitude toward a bunch of white girls showing up to feed them and talk with them. But I guess, if you never really got much individual attention, you'd welcome it.
I left there feeling like we made a difference, but not the kind that would last forever. Not the kind that only comes from spending hours a week with a child - teaching them how to be an adult, how to survive in a middle-class world, how to make something of themselves and how to keep out of trouble.
The next time we go there, it will be a whole different set of kids. But what will happen to the first group? The situation seems impossible, because even if one were to get out of the mire of their downtrodden lives, what about the rest?
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