I love children. I love the way they laugh when tickled physically or by something you do. I love their smiles. I love their long stares. I love the way they hug you so your legs are in their full embrace so you can’t move. I love their simple “I love you’s,” which are so warm and sincere. I love their eyes and their beautifully long eyelashes. I love the way they want to whisper in your ear using their normal voices. I love the way they sing from their bellies with all manner of gusto and zeal. I love how they soak in every last word and action that you make. I love how they try to do things with such patience and grace. I love that they love mud and are content to sit in it for hours on end. I love the way they trust you even though they have no reason to. I love their big tears that splash on your shoulder and let you know your comfort alone is what they seek. I love children!

When I was in Haiti, I saw hundreds of children. Some children were roaming the streets. Some children were dropped off at an orphanage because they had some physical issue. Some children were just rescued from being sacrificed in the name of voodoo. Some children were given to the missionaries because their parents knew they could not feed them. Some children just hung around to see what someone so different from themselves looked like and acted like. And one child, Ellen, had her hands on me for hours on end, I guess just to claim me as her own.

The common thread of all the children I saw was the joy in their eyes.

They did not know that they had so very little, because they have never seen plenty.

They did not know that they were not getting their fill of food, because they have never seen a buffet table. They knew there were people who loved them, who wanted to take care of them, and who wanted to educate them.

Joy filled their hearts, their minds and their bellies. It did not matter if it was the girls’ orphanage, where there were only a few toys to play with; there was joy. It did not matter whether it was 12 boys being trained to be strong Haitian men in the Lord right next to the worst part of Haiti in Cite Soleil; there was joy. It did not matter if they were a part of a tiny orphanage where they slept in bunks 3 people high; there was joy. It did not matter if 50 of them were crammed in a small 10x10 room to learn their school lessons for the day; there was joy. It did not matter that it was 120 degrees out and that running and playing meant expending so much energy; there was joy. It did not matter that lunch might be their only meal of the day; there was joy.

There was joy in the simplicity of their living. There was joy in the air that they breathed. There was joy in the fellowship that they felt with one another. There was joy in memorizing and being able to recite their beloved scriptures. There was joy in being able to hug and be hugged. There was joy.

As we looked on these innocent faces we truly saw the face of God. The recollection of the faces still brings tears to my eyes, because in those faces you could see pure and unadulterated love.

And then as if the Heavens were singing in chorus, the children of one orphanage sang these words, a cappella:

I love you Lord, and I lift my voice,
To worship you, oh my soul rejoice,
Take joy my King, in what you hear,
May it be a sweet, sweet sound in your ear.

Their voices and the words they sung had me transcending into the heavenly realm. My greatest joy and hope is that one day I will hear them sing it over and over again.