Today was a day that pierced my heart. The children at the orphanage with their quick smiles and invitations (in Arabic and English, mixed) to play a game, their joy in beating me at the “days of the week game,” (I contend the girls mesmerized me with their eyes), and their helping me to pray the Lord’s Prayer as they do, I could not resist loving them. One of the young girls, as we finished praying, grabbed my hand and said, “The Abuna!” As I tried to remain in the background out of respect, she brought me to meet him with excitement. I think that may be what it means to have the faith of a child. The faith of a child is a transcendent light in a bleak world. It shines through adults, returning them to a place of vulnerability, if they are open to it. It is faith like a child that shares the love for the abuna, trusting in the genuine expression of love and grace. The faith of a child knows no division.

As I was preparing to leave, one of the young girls reached for my hand and kissed both cheeks. I was overcome. Other girls came and took my hand, doing the same. It did not matter that I am American or Lutheran or that I do not know much Arabic, I am their sister. Strangely, as one of the girls spoke to me in Arabic, I began to respond in English… somehow understanding what she had said.

At the second orphanage, we encountered a group of very energetic boys. One of the boy’s laughter was so infectious I could not help but laugh along. After the children had drawn their pictures, I was kneeling to comment on one of the pictures when a child placed his hand on my head, asked my name, and said the Lord’s Prayer, kissing me on the cheek afterward. The faith of a child blesses even if the recipient cannot understand the blessing. It reaches out, graciously accepting the bumbling response. I think children can see through people, piercing the walls we create for the illusion of protection. They unselfconsciously draw out one’s self, meeting Christ in their neighbor even as their neighbor sees Christ in them.