Dear little one,
It’s okay.
It’s okay to be sad, to be afraid, to be angry.
It’s okay to be confused.
You just experienced a trauma most of us cannot even imagine.
One moment, you were living every day life with your parents and siblings and the next moment you’re being taken to a foreign place and left there, alone. In one moment, your whole life changed.
As the police dropped you off in the middle of the night they told you not to cry, that your parents would pick you up in the morning.
As the next day passed without seeing your parents you realized that was a lie.
More trauma was heaped on top of the trauma you had already just experienced.
Your siblings are here too, but in different houses. You only see them at meals, and the weekly chapel service. Its different now.
You’re now living in a house with 19 other girls.
Some have known each other their whole lives, some have only been here for a few days. But you know none of that.
All you know is that they know each other and you have no one.
I don’t know why you are here. All I know is that there was a reason you are here. It wasn’t just because the police thought it would be fun to take you from your home and drop you at Casa Shalom.
That doesn’t make it any easier to wrap my head around the fact that you’re here, it makes it harder. There’s a traumatic reason you’re here.
When two white people walk in the room and the girls all yell “José!” “Shannon!” and introduce you as “the new girl” you don’t smile.
Why would you?
When I ask you your favorite color you wait a few seconds and then mumble “Rosado” (pink) and then after a long silence tell me you miss your parents.
One simple sentence that shatters my heart into a million pieces.
Of course you miss your parents. That’s okay.
Of course you miss your siblings. That’s okay.
So you’re here.
You ask if I will push you on the swings and I say yes.
I would do anything to help you smile.
To help you forget the trauma you’re experiencing. To let you feel like a little girl again.
The higher I push, the bigger your smile gets. You laugh and I realize that even if I can’t make the trauma go away, I can make this moment a little better.
A stranger takes a picture of you and the other girls on the playground, you look confused. You don’t know him.
He see’s a happy girl on a swing set and has no idea that you have been here for less that 12 hours.
But I know and you obviously know.
And it’s okay to be confused, to be hurt and angry.
But my sweet one, I pray that in the midst of the confusion, the hurt and the anger you realize just how much God loves you.
I pray for comfort.
I pray for joy and laughter and smiles.
I pray you adjust well and make friends with the other girls.
I pray you see that the house moms aren’t simply here for a paycheck, but that they are here because they love YOU and because they care for YOU.
I cannot imagine the feelings you’re working through and circumstances you’ve been in.
But I know this:
Papa loves you and your situation isn’t supposed to be this way.
And you know what? This crazy white girl loves you too. There’s a reason I can’t get you out of my head.
I can’t get you out of my head because you’re special. I see it, the house moms see it, Papa sees it.
There’s something different about you. Something unique, something only you have to offer.
You are special, you are loved and you are a treasure that we are blessed enough to know.
You are a priceless treasure, sweet one. And we love you and we are for you.
