The War Inside

As I stepped out of the car, my senses were overwhelmed with sights, smells, and sounds that jogged my memory. Vague memories and impressions began to replay in my minds eye. I had returned. It was familiar yet new all at once. The gypsy village stretched out before me and the children began trickling toward us. Some faces were new, some I recognized, yet the emotions engendered by the sight of them all were the same - compassion, sadness, anticipation, and excitement. I was setting my hand to the work I had come to do.
Sitting on the floor, playing cards strewn on the ground in front of me, I watched little Denisa pick each one up and look at it. Her big brown eyes searched each card then turned to meet mine with a smile. She was beautiful and innocent; her world was full of childish curiosity yet surrounded by a deplorable reality. 'What will this little life become?' I wondered to myself. What were her possibilities? The further my mind drifted down that road, the more helpless I felt. Her little dirt covered fingers pointed to each picture on the cards and simultaneously reached deep into my soul. Chubby cheeks framed the grin that crossed her face as I winked at her. My mind reeled with comparisons of my childhood and the childhood she was living. 'Why was she the one chosen to live this life? Why wasn't it me?'
Kids from corner to corner in our small room patiently waited for the cookies to be passed out. Crammed around tables with just enough elbow room to eat, each child anticipated the taste of those treats and you could see it in their eyes. Who knows if they had eaten anything previously and there was no guarantee they would eat afterwards. The thought struck me as unfair. They're just kids. Suddenly those cookies and the sandwiches that followed some time later meant so much more. We weren't just filling the kids bellies to "tide them over." This wasn't a means to an end. For some, this was the best meal they would eat that day. I expected the kids to begin inhaling the cookies as soon as they received them but to my surprise, every kid took tiny bites of their cookie and sandwich. I guess they were trying to make it last. I grimaced at that thought.
Today was exhausting, but not because the work I did was strenuous. The above descriptions are just a few of the things that went through my mind during the course of my time there. Frankly, I'm almost too sad to cry and too exhausted to process information. It's almost too much to take when you begin to consider the future these little lives have. God loves them, of this I am sure, but its hard to be so limited in my human ability. I want to help them all but I can't and that is one of the worst feelings I have ever experienced.