With hands trembling and heart racing,
I slowly opened the van door. My fellow Convoy of Hope interns and I had
reached our final destination—a small school nestled in the mountains of El
Salvador. As I took the first step out of the vehicle, the debilitating effects
of fear and anxiety threatened to end my journey, until I saw her—the girl with
the orange hair tie.
I
was 16-years-old at the time. I had never traveled internationally before and thoughts
of inadequacy and unpreparedness haunted me. As children surrounded me in every
direction, anxiously awaiting a hug and kiss on the cheek, I managed to peer
off into the distance and scan the school grounds. While doing so, I met eyes
with a young girl who sat under a nearby tree, stroking her long brown hair
that had been gently pulled back by a bright orange hair tie.
The girl with the orange hair tie was
unlike the other girls. She was shy, timid, and distanced herself from the rest
of her classmates. I approached her slowly and said hello. Her big brown eyes
looked up at me and creases of a smile began to form on her once sorrowful
face. I began asking her basic questions in Spanish, which she quietly and
sweetly responded. As the interns began setting up for skits, human videos, and
other festivities planned, I felt an indescribable pressing on my heart to
remain by her side. The program was underway and the laughter and reactions of
the children was like music to my ears. Tears welled up in my eyes as I felt
the girl’s arms wrap around my waist. Her grip was tight as though she never
wanted to let go. I held her in my arms for the remainder of the hour,
occasionally looking down only to find her peeking up at me in adoration. She
whispered in my ear, “Te amo mucho,” I love you very much, and I responded, “Te
amo mucho también
mi princesa,” I love you very much also, my princess. My heart sank and yet
leaped with joy all at the same time. Even for just a day, I would treat her as
though she were my own daughter—my precious little sweetheart.
As the day came to a close and we said
our goodbyes, I shared one last embrace with my sweetheart. More tears were
shed as she held out her wrist and gradually removed perhaps some of her most prized
possessions—her beaded bracelets. Other girls followed in her footsteps,
wanting to emulate the young girl’s kindness and generosity. I gladly accepted
them, knowing that it would cause more harm than good to deny such offerings.
I’ll never forget her face nor the revelation God gave me that day. Ministry is
not about what we can do, but rather it is about what He can do through us. I
didn’t have to be “well equipped” for my first day out on the mission field to
be a blessing. God only needed my willingness to be used as His vessel.
