His knees are covered in dried mud and his clothes look like they haven’t been changed in a few days. He is always straggling behind the group. Not really engaging with the other boys. He stands and watches but when I prompt him to play with them, he silently shakes his head no. He watches my every move, makes eye contact with me often and when I move away from him, he clasps my hand in his and follows me. He is very silent, but his eyes speak very loudly to me.

I sit on the grass and pat the ground beside me. He chooses to sit in my lap instead. He watches the other boys play for a while but then turns around in my lap and lays his head on my chest. He wraps his arms around my waist and just stares up at me.

I ask him questions while stroking his head and smiling at him. This is the boy whom I’ve spent awhile trying to get to talk to me. I have asked him what his name is a few times, and he just smiles and doesn’t reply. I tickle him a little in attempts of getting a response.

He finally whispers, “Alec”. It’s a small victory but my heart rejoices. Now that I know his name, I want to know more about him.

He whispers his responses slowly and quietly to me.

He lives in the house next door to the base. He is 2 years old. His favorite animal is a dog. His favorite color is green.

I start to ask questions about his family. He has both a father and a mother. When I ask where they are, he whispers a response that’s so quiet I can’t hear him the first time. I implore again and I can hear it this time.

Haiti.

He seems to be done talking to me and buries his face into me. I pull him in tight and I process in silence. It’s so not fair for him. He’s only two years old. There’s so much he shouldn’t understand at that age, but he completely understands that he’s here and his parents are not.

Once again, this is a difficult situation which we see often here in the Dominican. I now understand that his parents went back to Haiti when Alec was no more than a year old. While I am not certain of the exact circumstances, I am assuming his parents were sent back to Haiti by immigration control. Alec was left behind in the care of his father’s relatives. The family has many other children, and they seem to struggle to meet the children’s basic needs.

When was the last time this boy was held close and told he was loved? When is the last time his mother tucked him in bed, wiped away his tears or calmed his fears? When is the last time his father held him in his lap and told him a story?

These situations crack me open a little wider each time.

And so, I’ll love a little harder, hug a little longer and breathe life over kids like Alec.

I have abundant love to give, Lord. I’ll do my best to love like you love them. If I can be even a small glimpse for these people of your unending, undeserving love then let my life be proof of how your love has forever changed me.

I will not leave you as orphans, I will come to you. -John 14:18