Those eyes. Those big deep brown eyes. You can see a lot in someone’s eyes. They say the eyes are the window to the soul. In Africa there are many dfferent eyes. There are joyful eyes, hurting eyes, lost eyes, knowledge seeking eyes, and empty eyes.
During the clinic on Saturday, I made a little friend. I was walking and out of the corner of my eye I saw this little boy coming out of one of the shacks on the school grounds. I walked up to him and he gave me his hand and came up into my arms. He was so meek and mild. In his hands he was holding onto about 7 bottle caps as if they were precious jewels. He wore a blue, orange, and yellow striped shirt with holes worn into it. He had no shoes, and his fingers and feet were dirty.
I looked into his eyes, his beautiful brown eyes, and I saw emptiness – I saw an absence of some sort. It was like he was overlooked. Nobody was taking care of him. Nobody seemed to know him. He spoke no English. He may have been 3 or 4 (maybe older, Kenyans are smaller so it’s harder to tell.) so we communicated in other ways. I taught him how to do a high 5. We counted his bottle caps. Then we went and hung out with a few more children from the village. None of them spoke English so we drew in the sand. I drew a heart and then they drew a heart. They laughed a lot. Slowly my little friend’s eyes began to change. He began to laugh and became more joyful. He drew in the sand. His fear and meekness began to leave. We continued drawing in the sand. I wrote my name and pointed to myself, then they wrote my name. I wrote Jesus and they wrote Jesus. I wrote Kenya and they laughed said Kenya and then wlrote Kenya.. Communication at its finest haha.
Then I got my phone out and took pictures. They kids love seeing themselves in pictures. For some of them it may be the first time they’ve seen what they look like. This is a poor area. They don’t have mirrors or cameras. In almost all of the pictures my litte friend has his head down. He’s meek. I had to say goodbye, not knowing if I’d see some of them again. Then Sunday, we went to church. To my surprise I saw my striped shirt friend. His eyes slightly lit up when he recognized me. I motioned for him to come. He slowly walked over and I picked him up. Again he seemed to be on his own. He had been standing on the outskirts of the group – a loner. I loved on him and tried to show him that he had value. He sat with the other kids during church. He watched as people sang and towards the end began to timidly mouth the words and join in. After the service I walked out of the church and he followed me. I took his hand and we walked up the hill. He followed me into where we would eat a snack and have some water and coffee. I made sure he got water and some food. He ate, heartily. At first he used his hands. Then after looking around, he began to use the spoon. In the beginning, he dropped most of what was on the spoon into his lap as if he’d never used a spoon before. I’m guessing he hadn’t but maybe he has. He eventually got the hang of it. After he finished, he scurried off. I learned the. That his name was isaac.
Isaac. What a beautiful name. A promise, a future, the father of the Jews. Isaac. I believe and pray the name is a prophetic name. My little Isaac has a promise over his life. He will go to school. He will work hard and get a job. He may be the first in his family to attend university. Isaac you are loved and you will be prayed over, your life is valuable. You are valuable. So, if you’re reading this, say a little prayer for Isaac tonight.