Recently, I was upstairs in the office, working on about ten different projects at one time. I have been blessed to take my work home during this quarantine, and along with my dissertation, taking a course through the college that employs me to become certified to teach fully online, and running UnFinished. I’ve been busier than ever. Not to mention sharing the office with Christine as she too works from home and also on her various projects.
On this particular day, I was deep into dissertation work, when Christian, our five-year-old, came upstairs and crawled up into my lap. This is not an uncommon occurrence. He’s a bit of daddy’s boy. However, this time, as he wrapped his arms around my neck, he began to cry.
This is an uncommon occurrence. Christian prides himself on being pretty tough and being able to handle situations. He’s a five-year-old attempting to function on a 30-year-old’s operating system. (The WWE is not going to let cry babies main event Wrestlemania).
I asked him what was wrong and, letting the tears flow, he told me he missed his friends. He said he missed his friends from church, and he missed his friends from school. While I’ve tried to be cognizant of him being under quarantine as an only child, I’d not really thought about how hard it is on him. He’s an only child. I try to recognize that, and I play with him as much as my 46-year-old body will let me. We’ve let him FaceTime his cousins, my mother, my brother, and he’s had Zoom calls with his classmates and Sunday School meetings.
However, Christian, like his mother, is a social butterfly. He longs to be with his friends. He tells me almost every day that he wants to go back to church and school. While he does not let on very much, it became clear to me that day, this has been harder on him than I realized. I never thought about the fact that his mother and I can escape a little. We will make quick runs to H.E.B., the bank, the post office, and other places we simply have to go. However, other than walks around the neighborhood, Christian has not left the house in over a month.
This caused me to think – if being locked up in a nice home, with Netflix, Disney+, all the other streaming services, an iPad, PlayStation, and more toys than he should have, what is life really like for the children of UnFinished? I’ve been to their homes, I’ve seen what life is like for them. They live in mud huts with no internet, no T.V., no running water, and many – no electricity. How stressful and lonely must it be for them, already living with a disability, back home again, locked away after months or years of finding freedom through the support you’ve given them? It must be heartbreakingly sad.
We continue to do welfare checks on the kids. But much like we all do, the caregivers tell us they are “fine” and “doing well.” It’s been our mission to restore hope to our children and their families, and we find ourselves now dealing with the effects of the Coronavirus. I’m sure our kids are more ready than Christian to return to their schools, their friends, and once again escape life in the village.
Please continue to pray for our kids. Honestly, they are safer from COVID-19 deep in the village than they are pack into schools. It is also reassuring to know they all have medical insurance should the need arise.
So, please pray. Also, it has been amazing to see our child sponsor continue their faithful sponsorships. We still have ten children who need sponsors. We have committed to refrain from bringing on new children until all of our current kids have dedicated, reliable support in their endeavors. I can attest to the joy of being personally involved in the life of a child in UnFinished programs.
We have incredible potential for growth. We have a proven plan that works and produces results. If your church or business is looking to impact the world through a federal 501(c)3 program, we would love the chance to talk (at a socially respectable distance, of course).
Thank you for your continued love, prayers, and support.