Suffer the Children

As I sit here a little boy is crying. He’s not quite a year old, and he and his mother are from an East African country. For reasons unknown to me, this boy has attached himself to me and immediately crawls over to me every time I enter the Maria Skobtsova House (MSH). He reaches up and wants to be picked up. He cries whenever I hand him to someone else, sometimes even his mom.

He smiles a wide grin when I enter the house. He grasps my hand and pulls himself to his feet, unable to walk on his own just yet. His curly hair tickles my chin as I lift him into my arms. I genuinely feel an attachment to him in a way I don’t always feel with the women and children we welcome at MSH. His mom smiles and watches as I hold him and play with him. She has her son’s same round face, and her loving gaze is beautiful when she sees him in my arms. I’ve even joked with her about trading him for one of my own children, to which she readily agrees.

I wish that I could rest in these moments of happiness and joy, just hold this boy and comfort him and let him know that everything will be ok.

But I can’t.

Orthodox Easter Celebration

No matter how much happiness my time with this baby brings me, I know that it is temporary. Always in the back of my mind is the knowledge that one day, when the weather allows, he and his mom will leave us and undertake a perilous journey to a better life across the English Channel.

And it breaks my heart.

Through my time in Calais I have gotten to experience the joys and difficulties that having children around brings. At MSH, we primarily welcome mothers and children, meaning that there are almost always children in the house. Over the years I’ve been here, I must have gotten to know at least 50 children.

But the governments of France and the UK constantly forbid the children to come. The children, just like all the migrant population in Calais are forced to cross the English Channel on small, inflatable boats under dangerous conditions.

“Allow the children to come to me,” Jesus said. “Don’t forbid them, because the kingdom of heaven belongs to people like these children” (Matthew 19:14, Common English Bible). And so the question remains. How do I lead the children to Jesus, instead of forbidding them, as the disciples did in this story in Matthew? How do I show genuine love and share part of my heart with kids that, through no fault of their own, are in incredibly transient and dangerous circumstances?

This is a question I ask myself as I hold the little boy in my arms, the little boy who is content just to be with me, content to rest his head on my chest. I want to hold him tightly and never let him go, but I know that one day he’ll leave, like all the others.

And so while he’s here, all I can do is try to show him the genuine love of Jesus.

If you haven’t considered it yet, ask yourself whether volunteering among these vulnerable women and children would be meaningful to you. If you choose to come, you will be challenged and changed, but this work is worth it.