Honey Come Home

Never more than now has it felt more important to show love to the community of Lakhtokia...

Arriving home last week I made my way to the slum as quickly as possible expecting to see the homes rebuilt and all of the kids back in place. Instead I was greeted with glowing embers and fresh ash of the continued burning of the homes. Barb wire had been placed all along the perimeters of the community as the governments attempt to prevent rebuilding. My stomach dropped and twisted and my heart shattered into about one million tiny pieces at the sight of all of this.

I don't understand

I don't.

I can't.

In the most respectful way possible, I literally don't understand how this has been formulated as the solution to overpopulation and extreme poverty. To an economy that feels as if it could buckle under the weight of its people. There was most certainly a group of executives that gathered and decided to raze these homes and place barb wire. To push these families under the rug or sweep them aside. To make the unwanted feel even more unwanted, and I didn't think that was possible.

World, wake-up... this is not the answer! I will be the first to admit that I don't know what is but its been nearly a year since our lives have become intertwined down in the slum and any progress we have made has been due to unfaltering love and consistency. So maybe I do understand, how easy it is to make a decision when you don't know the very people it will effect. But I know them, and you reading this, you do. Every one of those children has a face to me, a voice, a name. We see the differences in them when their already unstable environment just gets spun upside down. Every one of them struggles already to survive, to be fed to be safe. Not a single one of them asked to be born into this. Never have they done something to solicit their very basic homes to be taken from them... never. I would beg and plead if I met the people who decide to raze the slums, beg them to know the children like we know. To step in with us on just one Sunday. Hold one hand, pass one meal. Play one game. I know that if they did that, they would begin to see how much opportunity there is in each individual child. How much promise there is in this community that is just learning how much the world can love them. They would see how we use their barb wire fence to create a safe haven for passing the meals and spending time with the kids. That no matter how much these families are told they don't matter, we will stand up and say "you do." 

I just want for all of my babies to come home, to continue to bask in the glory of Sunday meals and the consistency that comes with it. To know that we have not forgotten them, we have not asked them to leave. That still, all these months later, they do not have to ask us for our love. That is given freely and without strings or expectations. There is no more time to sit aside in inaction. There is no better opportunity than now to love the unloved with us, in whatever way you know how. 


  1. Oh no! I am so overwhelmed right now. I don't comment much but I read every post you write and I feel like I know these kids, these families through your words. My heart aches. I am praying for you, for those children and their families.

    1. Thank you for your prayers Jodi and for taking the time to get to know these children <3

  2. It's something I can't even imagine...I don't really know what to say. I'm sorry and thank you for telling the world about these things. I think it's one of the best things you can do for those kids.