The Girl with the Orange Hair Tie

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.