Never Once

At a ripe 6 years old, his life intertwined with the streets and the life it brings. Bored and searching for adventure, he races with cars and dodges in and out of bushes and secret hiding places. His tummy begins to growl and the search for food ensues. Bath water and breakfast are as infrequent as goodnight kisses and good morning hugs. His clothes seem to have protested soap and his shoes are playing out the seen of David and Goliath. House slippers against the rough streets of Lambert's Bay, South Africa.

People see this boy and furrow their brows. "poor child," they mutter, shaking their heads, "shame". Their day goes on as usual, and his without consistency. Others see him and yell from their stoops "go home!" "where is your mother?!". He runs to avoid another confrontation. The race continues, the game goes on. Survival.

Never once.

After a long day of playing with moving vehicles and hiding from adults. His day ends after dark on his lonely journey home. Mom represent the woman passed out at the assigned address where he sleeps. He has been gone since the sun came up and is home way past the sun's departure, but no worry has passed through her mind. It would be a wonder if he, even, passed through her mind. He is 6, life is a game and the goal is to hide and survive.

Never once.

See, I know this boy. He has a face, he has a smile that could brighten up New York City in a blackout. He has a heart that's being lied to and a mind that is being underutilized. On occasion he attends school, but since no one asks, those occasions are rare. Two times has he step foot in a church. Both were in the last two weeks of his life. We see him everyday roaming the streets and he plays with us, laughs, runs, jumps and eats everything he can actually get his hands on...and doesn't stop until its gone. Tonight I got to play with this boy. The sun was setting and we were waiting for youth to start, the play ground was screaming for attention and I followed behind him to the swings. At first I was spinning him around, and then pushing him as high as I could muster. I'd tickle him as the pendulum he was riding moved towards me and laughter came flowing. Straight from the belly. The way every six year old should laugh. I could tell the stress of his day was gone and for once that day he got to be a kid. I prayed for The Lord's shield to wrap around him. I sang Jesus Loves Me, which I never fully understood until that moment.

Never once.

I may not change this boys life in the few weeks I am here. Our group may not have any effect on his outcome. And that's a hard pill to swallow. However, we will encourage a community to rise up and claim those children. To fight for those kids, to change not only his life but the countless others whose parents care more for alcohol and drugs then the innocent lives they are responsible for. More so, I know never once has this boy ever walked alone. His mother may not even know what he ate today, or what he wore or where he spent his time, but His heavenly father does! His father knows every hair, every thought, he knows his favorite hiding spots. He knows how fast he can run, how high he can jump and how much he loves sweets. He knows because He was there. This boy has never walked alone and he never will. His life is impossible and I don't know how he finds the strength and I know with the coming years it will only get harder, but I know His father will be faithful. I pray with my entire, helpless, hopeful heart that this boy will know the love of His father. I pray that his spirit longs for God, that he won't be satisfied with any other thing and that the power of that longing will bring him to The Answer. That one day he will look back and realize he never walked alone, never once.