2,1, tata :(

Day 2: Sabbath, the last day with my kids. Amongst a blur of last tastes of Shati’s food, last minute little letters, gifts, and taking pictures, I taught my last Sabbath school, sang my last Bengali song(in front of people that actually understand it), and played for them I’d Rather have Jesus on the pastor’s violin. When I love these kids so much, and they are pleading me, with sincere yearning in their eyes, to take them home with me, it breaks my heart. In those moments, more than anything else, I really wish I could take them with me. But, more than I want to take kids home with me, more than I want to stay longer at the orphanage, more than I want to see them again….more than all of that, I’d rather have Jesus. The afternoon was filled with branch sabbath school with Jehanna(yay she’s back!) in the Gohara village, a birthday party for 1 yr old twin boys, and my last game of ‘catch catch’ chasing and tickling all these giggly precious heart-stealers around the playground.

Branch Sabbath School at Gohara village school with Jehanna!

All too soon the time came to say goodnight for the last time and goodbye to the most precious 112 kids in my world. I started out strong, for the kids sake, giving them each a big hug and kiss telling them how much I loved them, and if they loved Jesus I would see them again in heaven. Caleb was the first of the boys to get me—after a tearful bear hug, kisses, and reminding him to talk to Jesus when he was sad and He would be with him, I had to put him back on his bed and he just cried and sobbed and cried and sobbed. I don’t know how I pulled myself away, but as soon as I got into the next room, I just lost it. Though the little toddlers were mostly asleep in their cribs, I just walked around crying, whispering to each one how much I loved them. Shooley, Mitali and Danny were being so patient with me, following me from room to room, waiting for me to cry with everyone.  The caregivers, teachers, and other staff I’d grown close to were equally as hard to bid farewell too. So much for being strong--I was a walking, sobbing mess! My 1^st graders and my little 8 yr old mother really got me. I picked them up, kissed them, and gave them huge hugs as we cried on each other’s shoulders and I choked out how much I loved them. Only God knows if I will be able to come back to Bangladesh, but we all know if we love Jesus we will see each other again in Heaven. My hope and prayer is that I will see them all again soon, whether it be in Bangladesh or Heaven.

Day 1: Early the next morning, we must leave for Dhaka to catch our flight. At 6 a.m. some kids were up already, and along with a few staff, weren’t going to let us go without more tears. I said my last goodbyes with only a few tears, but when Mitali shut the van door, they began streaming down. I shoved the window open, and through a screen of tears waved ‘tata’ as our driver took us away. Down the familiar little roads for the last time, the tears would not stop until we reached Joypurhut. I have left part of my heart and my love at BanglaHope, and taken with me their love and memories. God, I know that you can unite us all again. Please make it soon.