Angry on behalf of the Children
Cold, dry factual reporting. That’s what this post will be. Because I don’t yet have words for what I’ve been learning as I come alongside of these children and their situations, each day. My heart is breaking for these kids, and I don’t have answers, and I don’t have wisdom, and I don’t have interpretations ; I’m still processing everything that I am seeing. I am crying out before the Lord, on behalf of these children.
What happened the other morning: One of our little boys, a six year old, did not show up at the Center the other morning. At eight o clock in the morning, S. went to investigate – she knows exactly where each of the kids live. The child was stretched on an old dingy loveseat, totally conked out. Dead to the world.
“What has happened here?”, S. asked. “This child seems drugged or poisoned!”
Sheepishly, the big sister, in her mid-teens, explained. Mother had come back to the room, very drunk, at seven a.m. Her little boy woke up and asked his mom for his breakfast. (Traditional Bolivian breakfast is always bread and hot tea.) In her drunken state this mother gave her little boy hard liquor instead of tea, thus poisoning his little system, and he was stretched out on the filthy furniture sleeping it off.