This is an updated version of my first post from 2012. It's a beautiful story of God's hand sovereignly bringing two lives together.
HERE is a 2 minute video of Yididiya and I seeing one another for the first time in a year.
A BIG FYI: Those who have supported my going to Nazret, Ethiopia the last 3 years have been instrumental in me becoming a passionate supporter and Advocate for Compassion International. By the grace of God, this resulted in my having the privilege of not only sponsoring 2 children there, but introducing other people to Compassion International, and facilitating the sponsorship of about 80 children from Nazret between 2012 and 2014(this does not include the additional 30 or so children from others countries).
Below is the amazing story of how God miraculously brought my sponsored child and I together…thus stirring my heart for the people of Nazret, Ethiopia.
A LIFE-ALTERING GAME OF PEEK-A-BOO
Reflecting back, I cannot believe that I am getting ready to embark on my fourth consecutive trip to Nazret, Ethiopia. It has been not only humbling to see and be a part of, but amazing to observe, over time, the impact the ministry of Compassion International has on a child's life. Not only Yididiya, but countless others I've spent time with over the last several years.
On my first trip to Ethiopia with Compassion International in 2011, I had no idea that Jesus would forever change my life by way of a spontaneous game of peek-a-boo with a 4-5 year old little girl who looked a little different than her peers.
As team photographer, I snuck out the side door of the large church gathering in order to capture a few images of the overflow of worshipers who were congregating on the steps outside the back of the building. This church was the location of a thriving Compassion International project with over 200 children already sponsored. (UPDATE: There are now over 330 children in the project. About 120 have been sponsored by folks at South Bay Church in San Jose, CA)
As I stood in amazement at how many people were listening to the sermon from outside, I noticed a little girl- about 20 feet away from me- huddled behind her mother. She was peeking out at me with an inquisitive smile. I waved at her in the same manner we Americans wave at children (not quite a wave, but just wriggling the fingers). She paused, did the same wave back at me, and hid behind her mother who was listening intently to the preacher.
When she playfully peered out from behind mom again, I did the same wave. She giggled. We went back and forth with this little game of peek-a-boo for a few minutes...her trying to restrain the laughter...as not to disturb her mother. After a few more peek-a-boo's, she ran over to me said something in Amharic(local language), giggled, and ran back to hide behind her mom. A few minutes later...the same thing- she ran up to me, said something, giggled and went back.
She was lighter skinned than the rest of the kids and it was clear her father was not native Ethiopian.
I asked the Ethiopian man next to me what the situation was with this little girl. He explained that the husband(who was Ukrainian) had left his wife when was 3 months pregnant. Just after his explanation, the girl ran up to me again, said something while tugging on my arm, giggled and ran back to mom...this time looking back at me as if waiting for a response.
The man leaned over to me and said, "She thinks you are her father."
SPEECHLESS. My heart sank. I felt a strange mix of anger, sadness and flat-out indignation. I felt my eyes welling up. Time after time on this trip I had met children who's father was not present. Sometimes he had died. Sometimes drug or alcohol abuse. Sometimes he simply walked out on his wife and children.
I waved again at the little girl...and went to walk off my frustration. I did not see her again that day. It was the last day of our trip.
I found my self recalling and re-telling that story multiple times in my remaining time in Ethiopia. Also, back in the states, I told it over and over again.
I could not shake it off. What was going on in that little girl's heart? Does this happen each time she sees a white man: "Could that be my daddy?" I could not imagine. It broke my heart.
Fast forward 8 weeks. Back in the states. Compassion Sunday. Our church had an opportunity to sponsor over 50 children from the same Compassion project we visited while in Nazret, Ethiopia.
I was really excited to sponsor another child. I have a little boy named Luckson in Haiti, and it has been a joy to interact with him. I showed up at church and immediately went to the Compassion table and started looking through profiles of all the beautiful children we had the opportunity to sponsor. Face after face...after precious face. Sweet kids.
As I was going through the stack, I was stopped in my tracks as I looked at one of the profiles: Could it be? No...not possible. Maybe? No. Not possible.
I was stunned. There she was...the same little girl with whom I played peek-a-boo more 8 weeks ago…8000 miles away! The same little girl who thought I was her father was staring back in me in a photo!!! God delivered little Yididiya to me in a manner I could not imagined! What a gift she has been.
Her name means, "Loved by God." And she is. As am I. What did I do to deserve this miracle? Nothing. I am loved by Jesus. Period. And so is Yididiya.
Well, one year after sponsoring my little friend, I went back to Ethiopia to meet her officially.
I cannot put in words. This precious little one captured...no...captivated my heart. I believe Jesus gave me the same heart for her as he has for me.
She calls me "Abaye" (ah-by-hey), which means "daddy". Her mother, Genet, shared that "Yididiya is at peace now because she had so many questions about fatherhood". Her mother said this to me, "When someone asks who her father is, she answers, your name. Yididiya is not only my daughter. She is your daughter...because she loves you equal to me."
CHOKE. The humility of her mother being able to say that absolutely broke me. I realized that sponsoring a child has more impact than I can ever fathom...or put in words. WHAT A PRIVILEGE it is to bless this precious little child in the name of Jesus. There is not enough space to share my heart on a blog. You need to experience this yourself!
As a man called to serve and shepherd the body of Christ, my experience in Ethiopia has stirred my heart for those to whom I am called to minister in the states. The impoverished people on the African continent have a freedom in Christ that I desire to see more of here in America. They are indeed rich because they see Jesus as their ultimate treasure, and their affections are set on him accordingly!
God is Father to the fatherless...and he has given me the privilege of doing the same for Yididiya.
I am grateful.
HERE is a 2 minute video of Yididiya and I seeing one another for the first time in a year.
A BIG FYI: Those who have supported my going to Nazret, Ethiopia the last 3 years have been instrumental in me becoming a passionate supporter and Advocate for Compassion International. By the grace of God, this resulted in my having the privilege of not only sponsoring 2 children there, but introducing other people to Compassion International, and facilitating the sponsorship of about 80 children from Nazret between 2012 and 2014(this does not include the additional 30 or so children from others countries).
Below is the amazing story of how God miraculously brought my sponsored child and I together…thus stirring my heart for the people of Nazret, Ethiopia.
A LIFE-ALTERING GAME OF PEEK-A-BOO
Reflecting back, I cannot believe that I am getting ready to embark on my fourth consecutive trip to Nazret, Ethiopia. It has been not only humbling to see and be a part of, but amazing to observe, over time, the impact the ministry of Compassion International has on a child's life. Not only Yididiya, but countless others I've spent time with over the last several years.
On my first trip to Ethiopia with Compassion International in 2011, I had no idea that Jesus would forever change my life by way of a spontaneous game of peek-a-boo with a 4-5 year old little girl who looked a little different than her peers.
As team photographer, I snuck out the side door of the large church gathering in order to capture a few images of the overflow of worshipers who were congregating on the steps outside the back of the building. This church was the location of a thriving Compassion International project with over 200 children already sponsored. (UPDATE: There are now over 330 children in the project. About 120 have been sponsored by folks at South Bay Church in San Jose, CA)
As I stood in amazement at how many people were listening to the sermon from outside, I noticed a little girl- about 20 feet away from me- huddled behind her mother. She was peeking out at me with an inquisitive smile. I waved at her in the same manner we Americans wave at children (not quite a wave, but just wriggling the fingers). She paused, did the same wave back at me, and hid behind her mother who was listening intently to the preacher.
When she playfully peered out from behind mom again, I did the same wave. She giggled. We went back and forth with this little game of peek-a-boo for a few minutes...her trying to restrain the laughter...as not to disturb her mother. After a few more peek-a-boo's, she ran over to me said something in Amharic(local language), giggled, and ran back to hide behind her mom. A few minutes later...the same thing- she ran up to me, said something, giggled and went back.
She was lighter skinned than the rest of the kids and it was clear her father was not native Ethiopian.
I asked the Ethiopian man next to me what the situation was with this little girl. He explained that the husband(who was Ukrainian) had left his wife when was 3 months pregnant. Just after his explanation, the girl ran up to me again, said something while tugging on my arm, giggled and ran back to mom...this time looking back at me as if waiting for a response.
The man leaned over to me and said, "She thinks you are her father."
SPEECHLESS. My heart sank. I felt a strange mix of anger, sadness and flat-out indignation. I felt my eyes welling up. Time after time on this trip I had met children who's father was not present. Sometimes he had died. Sometimes drug or alcohol abuse. Sometimes he simply walked out on his wife and children.
I waved again at the little girl...and went to walk off my frustration. I did not see her again that day. It was the last day of our trip.
I found my self recalling and re-telling that story multiple times in my remaining time in Ethiopia. Also, back in the states, I told it over and over again.
I could not shake it off. What was going on in that little girl's heart? Does this happen each time she sees a white man: "Could that be my daddy?" I could not imagine. It broke my heart.
Fast forward 8 weeks. Back in the states. Compassion Sunday. Our church had an opportunity to sponsor over 50 children from the same Compassion project we visited while in Nazret, Ethiopia.
I was really excited to sponsor another child. I have a little boy named Luckson in Haiti, and it has been a joy to interact with him. I showed up at church and immediately went to the Compassion table and started looking through profiles of all the beautiful children we had the opportunity to sponsor. Face after face...after precious face. Sweet kids.
As I was going through the stack, I was stopped in my tracks as I looked at one of the profiles: Could it be? No...not possible. Maybe? No. Not possible.
I was stunned. There she was...the same little girl with whom I played peek-a-boo more 8 weeks ago…8000 miles away! The same little girl who thought I was her father was staring back in me in a photo!!! God delivered little Yididiya to me in a manner I could not imagined! What a gift she has been.
Her name means, "Loved by God." And she is. As am I. What did I do to deserve this miracle? Nothing. I am loved by Jesus. Period. And so is Yididiya.
Well, one year after sponsoring my little friend, I went back to Ethiopia to meet her officially.
I cannot put in words. This precious little one captured...no...captivated my heart. I believe Jesus gave me the same heart for her as he has for me.
She calls me "Abaye" (ah-by-hey), which means "daddy". Her mother, Genet, shared that "Yididiya is at peace now because she had so many questions about fatherhood". Her mother said this to me, "When someone asks who her father is, she answers, your name. Yididiya is not only my daughter. She is your daughter...because she loves you equal to me."
CHOKE. The humility of her mother being able to say that absolutely broke me. I realized that sponsoring a child has more impact than I can ever fathom...or put in words. WHAT A PRIVILEGE it is to bless this precious little child in the name of Jesus. There is not enough space to share my heart on a blog. You need to experience this yourself!
As a man called to serve and shepherd the body of Christ, my experience in Ethiopia has stirred my heart for those to whom I am called to minister in the states. The impoverished people on the African continent have a freedom in Christ that I desire to see more of here in America. They are indeed rich because they see Jesus as their ultimate treasure, and their affections are set on him accordingly!
God is Father to the fatherless...and he has given me the privilege of doing the same for Yididiya.
I am grateful.
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