Joy

The children smile when you look at them. Some look away, shy and uncertain but always, always they eventually smile. A hug, a touch on the arm, a tug on a braid- any contact brightens their eyes,and warms our hearts.
Most of the children swarm Leisha and Vanessa. They are drawn to the purest hearts and truest love for them. It is a picture of Jesus. Leisha, and Vanessa are Jesus to them. They line up and ask to have their hair braided. And it gets braided. Leisha's fingers may cramp and she may be tired, but not a single child goes away without a pretty braid and a warmed heart.
Some of the boys follow us around and offer their help. Insist upon it. Before my hands get around something to assist, theirs are already helping.
We gave the first family a tub of clothes. There own, ragged and dirty. The family of six disappeared into the ten by ten structure they are living in and emptied the contents. The girl, eight or nine years old, oohed and ahhed over the pretty skirts and socks. One boy, whose shoes were too small for his feet peeked into the tub and pointed at a pair of blue sandals and then at himself. His smile is too difficult to describe. Too precious to mar with my word choice. I nodded to him and he scooped those sandels up so fast. He wore them the entire day. At times other boys would point to them and he would take them off and allow them to try them on. He always got them back.
Perhaps the hardest worker was the fourteen year old boy whose home we finished today. He was nonstop. From the moment we arrived to the minute we left. He would often take things from my hands and carry them for me. Always with the brightest smile. Aways. His shirt was riddled with holes. His jeans too small. When offered clothes he eagerly, but shyly nodded and thanked me so profusely.
I can't wait to see him tomorrow. His joy is contagious. His joy colours my own.