This photo came through 2 days ago from our friend Cedrick. He visits the orphanage frequently to check on things. He is a faithful man of God, and we are so blessed that God brought him on this journey with us.

I’m going about a normal day in Oklahoma, and I open the message and see the photos, and the flood of emotions comes again. Look at the children dressed in their Christmas best. Look at those smiles that capture your heart. And then I saw it. Some are giving thumbs up, and some are doing a sort of sideways peace sign. Not a big deal to most, but whoa, how that hit me. I know those children were taught those gestures.

Taught by 3 white boys…abahungu batatu b’abazungu. A year ago, we were at the orphanage, and the abahungu batatu b’abazungu interacted and played with all the kids. Whenever they take a photo together, our 3 boys would do a sideways peace sign or thumbs up, or some hand gesture. As a mom, my thought is, for the love, can we just get a photo where you’re smiling normally and not throwing up hand signals? But alas, it’s a futile thought.

I thought I was going to be in Burundi longer. I thought things were going to go differently than they did. My deepest pain by far in saying goodbye sooner than I wanted to was that they would forget how much we love them. Though it was God opening the doors for us to come back to America, and I simply had to obey, my heart broke every day with the lingering question, “Am I not abandoning them?”

So, when this photo of these precious orphans came through the other day, and I saw the hand gestures they were giving, it was God’s way of answering that most painful question for me again. They won’t forget. I don’t care if they forget us or me, but I wasn’t there to give them me; I was there to give them the love of God in the most imperfect ways. As the messages flooded my phone this Christmas from Burundian after Burundian, this photo summed it all up. They haven’t forgotten the message we took. They know they are loved. As long as God allows, I will keep fighting for them, keep serving them, keep encouraging them, and keep loving them even across the ocean. They’re my brothers and my sisters. They’re children I love as my own. They’re family to us, and I thank God they haven’t forgotten that. More importantly, I believe they know our love for them isn’t of us, but of the God we know and who has saved us.

Today, 1 of the orphans is in the hospital fighting malaria and a blood infection. She is very ill. They estimate her hospital bill will be $75. If you’re interested, you can give here. A year-end gift of any kind would be a huge blessing. Most of all, please, pray for them. Life in Burundi is so hard; life for an orphan or widow is even harder. I never want to downplay the reality of struggles in America, because they exist. We have friends battling cancer, walking through divorce, and experiencing the death of a loved one. There are hardships in this world. The majority of Burundians struggle in ways we cannot fathom due to extreme poverty. So, as I reflect on them, not forgetting, I am also asking you to not forget them. You may not know their names or even be able to pronounce them if you did know them, but God knows. And He does care so much for them. You, just like me, cannot save them or rescue them; we cannot even make a dent on the grand poverty scale, but we can pray and ask the God who parted the sea, who raised the dead, and who moves and acts on behalf of the widow and orphan to do so even now to these children and people in this small country across the world. Don’t forget them.