Time to Release
Story by TAP Partner, Kelsey Bullock (serving in Honduras with her family)
“Mommy, I want to give these toys to the street kids,” Eliana comes to tell me. I scan her selection and am surprised to find items she actually cares about. Not just junk or worn-out hunks of plastic, but real gifts. One in particular catches my eye: her dollhouse. The pink and purple Melissa & Doug traveling dollhouse. Given by her Grandma Laurie and frequently played with, this is not just any old toy. She loves this one. I find myself having a hard time accepting her sacrifice: “Are you sure about this?”
She’s sure. I’m not, but I swallow my feelings and help her pick a few small dolls to place inside. Feeling the weight of the moment, I pause with Eliana to pray over the dollhouse and its recipient. I then ask if she’d like to choose who to give it to (we have had many of the street-connected girls over to our house who have taken a liking to it), or if she’d rather give it to Noé, our new social worker, and let him decide. She picks Noé. I bring the toys over to The Micah Project and tell Noé all about Eliana’s self-motivated giving as well as the significance of the dollhouse before leaving the rest in his hands.
A few weeks later, Noé sends me a photo from the day’s street ministry. For some reason, I didn’t go with him this time, and he happened to be trying something new. In all my time at Micah—12 years now—we have always frequented the same spot in El Centro with the same families, building trust and working faithfully with the same crew… but this particular day, Noé chose to go elsewhere. This is the day he gave the dollhouse. Seeing the photo containing a familiar gift held by unfamiliar hands, I guiltily feel a strong sense of disappointment. I was really hoping someone we know and love would be given this gift… Remembering our prayer over it, I take a deep breath and muster up a sense of excitement to pass the picture on to Eliana. Regardless of my encouragement, she seems a little disappointed, too. Even so, we release it.
Afterwards, some of us head to our routine Thursday street ministry—this week at our ‘new location’ (which is not so new anymore). Once a month, we visit La Bolsa, one of the poorest, most “dangerous” neighborhoods in Tegucigalpa, known for its extreme drug use. And yet, at a sweet street ministry—filled with laughter, play, food, and talks about Jesus—you wouldn’t guess it has this reputation. This week, when we pull out the snack bin, I immediately spot Cristian, a 13-year-old boy I met on my first visit to La Bolsa. Not in school and drowning in crack, Cristian is a Micah candidate. Today he is wearing a green “Jesus loves me” shirt, and since the phrase is in English, I ask if he knows what it says. He does. After that quick connection, I boldly ask if he’d ever want to visit Micah. He seems excited about the pool but pushes off the request for “some other time.” After he runs off, his older sister pulls me and Noé aside to tell us about how much Cristian needs to be at Micah (something his mother has done previously, too). “The police beat him up last night,” she tells us. “He’s going to get killed. He needs to be with you.” Noé asks if we’d ever be able to see their home; she says we can… right now.
As she leads us through the narrow alleyway, filled with broken glass and dog droppings, I am surprised to feel a deep sense of peace. As we walk along, his sister tells us, “If God has you here, it’s because he wants a better life for him. There is nothing for him here.” Now I am humbled. Cristian’s loving family is ready to release their ‘man of the house’ into a stranger’s care… in faith that the Lord has a good plan.
Cristian’s sister then invites us into her modest, nearly empty home, which is pitch black until she flips on the lights, revealing Cristian on one couch, his mother on another, and Eliana’s pink and purple dollhouse. The dollhouse my daughter released—the one I never thought I’d see again— is here? Awestruck, I tell the story of the dollhouse to the family surrounding me. Cristian’s sister is not surprised. “Nothing is impossible with God,” she proclaims confidently. After taking a picture with the family (and the dollhouse), Noé prays for everyone and reminds Cristian of his open invitation to visit Micah. This time, instead of running away from us, he asks, “How about I come for a month?”