Hogar Unidos por Cristo Outreach

We head out early Saturday morning to Hogar Unidos por Cristo, a privately run orphanage about an hour away from the city of Asuncion.

The brightly colored car drives up and the children race to greet it shouting “Tio Jose! Tio Jose!” They are so excited for the upcoming ventriloquist and clown show. First the show, then the dentist, but for the moment the dentist is forgotten and excitement fills the air. As Tio Jose unloads the equipment, the older children discuss how he makes Toti (the dummy) talk... but they were careful not to spoil the secret to the younger ones who stand in amazement as the show begins. The music is full of praise to God and the children are clapping, laughing, and smiling all around. These beautiful children. 

 

The smallest is barely able to toddle in his line, his dark eyes shyly hide behind a pant-leg when he sees me. But then I see one smaller, carried on the hip of one of the older girls. Tio Jose captures their attention and his clown assistant brings out the smiles with hilarious antics. I see a little girl, not more than 3, peeking between taller children's legs to try and see to the front. I motion to her that I would carry her so she can see, but she shyly shakes her head no. I turn back to the show and not a minute later I feel a small hand on my leg, arms raised just waiting for me to pick her up. I scoop her up and hold her close as we laugh together at the silly clown. We watch together as the clown chooses a few children to come forward and be a part of the show.

Tio Jose introduces Toti the dummy.  

A boy is chosen and comes to the front proudly to answer questions. His name is Miguel and he is 11 years old. His face crinkles into a bright smile as Toti the dummy says “I am also 11!” Toti asks a few more questions about his favorite sports team, color, and food and Miguel and Toti have everything in common. Then Toti asks the question, “when is your birthday Miguel?” Silence. He asks again to clarify, perhaps Miguel didn't hear above the noise “when is your birthday Miguel?” Again, a blank expression on Miguel's face and time stands still for a moment. The seconds tick by... there is a long pause before he looks down and says “no se” (I don't know). Toti quickly chimes in “You don't know? I don't know my birthday either! We are brothers!” And everyone laughs as the dummy hugs Miguel and calls him brother. They carry on for a few more minutes until Miguel is laughing again and enjoying being the center of attention for a moment before going back to his spot in the crowd.

I can't concentrate on the show. I fight back tears as I contemplate just how this can be. How does an 11 year old boy not know his birthday? Was there never a birthday celebration? Never a song of feliz cumpleanos? No birthday cake, decorations, presents, friends and family gathered around? When will he say he is 12, and how does he decide when that will be? I know that all of these beautiful children around me either have no living parents, or have been removed by the government from their homes due to abuse and neglect. I know these things, but the reality of what that looks like, that Miguel has no one who remembers the day he was born... it breaks me.

I think of my own children at home and how happy they are when their birthday comes, the special celebration of their life as a precious gift from God to our family. And it is for Miguel, and all these children he represents, that I cry. I cry because as soon as I knew we were coming to Paraguay, I looked into the requirements for adoption... just to check. Paraguay is closed to international adoptions. Brant and I look around and smile as a boy running by us says “hola tio!” (hi uncle) to Brant... and we think, couldn't we just take a few home? I cry because I want to do something. I feel helpless. I want each of these children to know the love of a family who loves and cares for them, who remembers and celebrates their birthday.

My thoughts are interrupted a few minutes later when I notice that Tio Jose is holding up a heart-shaped whiteboard, marking it with black pen and talking about the sin and sadness in our lives. He asks how many of us have ever done something wrong, and every child's hand is quickly raised the air. How many have sadness and pain in the lives? Again, every hand is raised. I can only imagine the sadness and pain that these children have experienced... but the children are focused on the message, which is the good news of Jesus Christ. How He, being God, came to earth and lived a perfect life, died on the cross and paid the penalty of our sins so that we might be forgiven, cleansed and welcomed into heaven with God. Tio Jose illustrates his words with a simple swipe of his hand to erase the darkness on the white heart, to show that when we repent Christ cleanses us from our sins and gives us new birth. And that is when it strikes me, I am so focused on the past, what Miguel has lost, that I almost miss out on what is right before my eyes.  He can have a new birthday!

There are times when abandoned children are given names and birth-dates by Social workers in Paraguay, and Miguel may never know when his real birthday was. He may never know who it was that carried him for 9 months before he was born, he may never experience a healthy traditional family to grow up in. But Miguel can know his real Father, his all-loving Father God in heaven who desires to give him a new birthday through the forgiveness found only in Jesus Christ. And here, in this orphanage- so fittingly named “Home United by Christ,” he has the opportunity to hear, to receive God's word and grow in his knowledge of Jesus, surrounded by a family of brothers and sisters in Christ.

I pray that Miguel will remember a new birthday, a birthday when he began his new life in Christ. A birthday that far overshadows the moment of his birth, but recognizes his position as a child of the Most High God, his Abba Father.  I confess that my view is so narrow, that my idea of happiness is so limited to my own experiences, but as I look around at these children, I see joy.  Hope.  Life. 

And that is why we are here.... That is why Hogar Unido por Cristo exists. It is why Tio Jose, 2 volunteer dentists, 1 dental assistant, a missionary couple and their daughter, orphanage workers, and an American couple from Washington state came to this orphanage in Paraguay.... so that Miguel will hear about the chance to have a new birthday, to be born in Christ, leaving the old behind and welcoming the new.   And to have his rotten teeth pulled out before they infect his entire mouth (more about the specifics of that later).

And while my heart is still broken for 11 year old Miguel who doesn't know his birthday... I have been freshly reminded by a gospel presentation to a group of children, the importance of remembering that this earth is not our home... that the day we arrived on the planet is not the most important day of our lives... it is but a milestone marking the beginning of God's plan for us. That plan may include immense suffering, pain, and sadness. But there is hope. There is the opportunity of forgiveness and a new birthday.    For Miguel.  For all of God's precious, beautiful children. 

Brant made fast friends with the orphan boys who taught him all about their fruit trees.