Laughter

I don’t really know when it happens along the day, but somewhere in between the fourth fifth or sixth presentation, the faces begin to be blurred by time and repetition. After you’ve been in front of thousands of students their stories, smiles, schools and uniforms all seem to mesh together to form an immense pull on your heart. A deep longing in your heart develops, a desire to be able to rescue all of them and save them from the loneliness and darkness that covers their lives. Somewhere along the day you can’t seem to get away from the realization that what you’re doing is most likely the only time in their lives when they can escape the reality in which they live.

We provide them with a short break from the day to day. We are there to rescue some and awaken others. The school assembly is our invitation to them, to leave their burdens for just a few moments.

Because those few moments are when their lives seem to be better, their father’s are home again to care for and love them, their mother’s don’t have to depend on their income of selling candy on the streets to tourists. They are not abused every morning before they leave to school and they’re not fearful of returning home that night. Those minutes when something in their hearts stirs and tells them that this is what they’ve been looking for. This message these Americans have brought brings hope where the failed relationships or the drugs and alcohol could not.

The assembly begins with some reservation, why have you come to my school? What are you going to expect from me? Soon the realization is made that there is truth in the message and the only thing the American’s expect or ask for is my attention. Then the laughter begins, things that are said or a funny face from one of the actors causes waves of it across the schoolyard.

The children’s laughter is heavy, but filled with a hidden joy. Filled with the sounds of stolen innocence being shaken off. Their laughter is full of the life that has been hidden and pressed down through their few years. The children are allowing themselves to be children. The children are allowing themselves to laugh if even just for a moment to relieve themselves of the real world they struggle to survive in. And the laughing feels good.

But then the stories continue and a message of hope is heard in it all. The opportunity to be able to understand the same joy these people have and the chance to live every day with the same peace that is present in this moment. Where and how can I find this?

As the presentation continues the anticipation builds, what is this book that you keep talking about? Who is this best friend that cares so much about you? Does he care about me as well? Tell me again that someone cares for me, that I can have a friend that will never leave me. Tell me again that someone knows my name and I have a purpose. Tell me again that everything is going to be ok. Tell me again that the things that happen to me aren’t my fault.

Everyday, in countless countries, in nameless cities and villages and counties God’s Word is being distributed to children who are hurting and searching for a message that will bring some sense of hope to their lives. Something that will bring even the smallest gleam of hope that things in life can be better.

And as I sit here writing these thoughts, the street is filled with that sound of children. I look out the window and see them running through the streets in their blue and white school uniforms with torches lit to mark a celebration of their schools anniversary. The same students that we will face in a few days are now running past my window hand in hand with each other. I hear them laughing and it brings back memories of the kids in the schools who’ve already received their books, whose lives’ have been altered. Yet in the same moment I am reminded that there are still many more.