"Ya Eh Na"

For weeks I've watched it.

Little girls and boys--sometimes even big girls and boys--come popping up over the edge of the hill, smiles wreathing their faces. They come up to the porch, and Sharon or Hannah or Brenda is dispatched to get the band-aid basket.

After the little ones are taken care of, they head off, a little happier than before; sometimes after leaving flowers or hugs with the band-aid bestower. Because really, this isn't about band-aids.

It's about love.

These kids will come and show you things that aren't a problem. Old hurts, old scars; hoping that they'll have something worthy of getting a band-aid. Why?

You give a band-aid, you give attention. Something each one of these kids is starved for. It's not a band-aid--it's love.

I sat on the porch, writing a journal entry. Sharon and Brenda are in Mae Ta--on a hospital run. Hannah is still here, but she's on the phone. Harvey is...well, I don't know where he is. But he's not here. The bottom line is, I'm the only one that's free. 

The kids just recently took their baths. After bath-time and in the mornings are when the kids come for band-aids. And sure enough, here comes a little boy, maybe 10 or so. He came up and sat on the porch.

I wondered if Hannah was going to take care of him. I knew she'd seen him. And she'd gone inside right away. A little bit of eavesdropping soon convinced me she wasn't.

Now what?

My pen traced letters on the paper, and I kept glancing at the boy out of my periforals. He just waited patiently, knowing that someone would take care of him in a moment. The only problem was that the only someone to take care of his hurt was me.

The battle raged for a moment. I knew what to do----but it was that age-old struggle with fear. What if I do the wrong thing? I don't really know this little guy very well...

Rebuke from heaven.

And who's fault is that? Get up out of your chair and show that boy that someone loves him. 

Then, Mu Nu Nu and Buh Suh Paw (literal sound-spelling) appeared with Peh Peh Wa in tow. Mu Nu Nu called out to me, saying hello and that she needed worm medicine. Well, that did it.

The journal flapped shut, the pen hit the floor. I took a look at the problem the boy had and went to get the band-aid basket and tell Hannah, who was still on the phone, about Mu Nu Nu's need.

Having watched Sharon and Hannah do this so many times made it fairly simple. He had a patch of skin that was pretty raw, but took about half a minute to bandage satisfactorily. He smiled, said, "Thank you Teacher," and off he went.

I returned the basket to its place and sat back down in my chair. Band-aids. It's so simple. 

A moment later, here came two more little girls. I was ready for them this time.

Before I went back for the basket, the smaller of the girls handed me a red hibiscus. I thanked her in Karen, tucked it behind my ear, and went to grab the basket.

Both had small hurts to deal with, and the band-aids came out. Once they were bandaged, the bigger girl gave me a big--and, by extension, rather long--hug; and then the littler one hugged me. Her mouth got close to my ear, and in a voice that was so small I almost couldn't hear it, said, "Ya eh na, Teacher."

A smile broke out on my face. "Ya eh na..." I whispered back.

They left with radiant smiles.

That's what it's about. Not the hurts, not band-aids. "Ya eh na."

Mu Wa Wa was next. A scrape of some sort on her knee. She was fixed up, and off she trotted. I'm still on the porch, half-expecting another to show up.

Yep, I was right... Here they come. Just a minute.....

.......................................

Again, two little girls.

I repeat myself.

This isn't about band-aids.

It's about what that little girl whispered in my ear. "Ya eh na."

I love you.

There's no more precious phrase on the planet. None. It's misunderstood, misused, abused, and UN-used; but it is still the best, most glowing, and precious three-word sentence that one can speak.

There's precious little love in this world. These children have known so little of it.

And yet, they know enough of it to speak those simple words to someone like me.

Trust me, that's sobering. And touching. And heart-wrenching.

Am I worthy of that love? Am I worthy of the trust it takes for a child to wrap their arms around your neck and whisper in your ear?

No. I'm not.

What am I doing here?

Living. Teaching. Being. Loving.

This place is full of children. They all need love. I'm here, for but a short time; and I've been called to love each of them as much as I can.

But not only me.

God's calling you.

There are over 200 children here.

And we've got lots of band-aids.

Come. Come help me put band-aids on. Come experience what I am. Feel those little arms around your neck and feel the love that God must feel for each of us when we run to Him to thank Him for what He's done for our wounded hearts. Listen to the whisper, shyly spoken, but truly meant....

"Ya eh na."

You'll never be the same again.