When my children were young, I remember reading them a story from the classic Pooh tales. Perhaps you’ll recall the scene on a snowy day where Piglet finds Pooh staring at some footprints. Pooh surmises they might belong to a heffalump, or even a woozle, and challenges Piglet to join his investigation. Piglet is reticent, but agrees if Pooh stays with him. After a bit, they notice the footprints have doubled in number: possibly two heffalumps or, maybe a pack of woozles. Pooh sings a little tune to overcome his nerves “How cold my nose, tiddly pom….” and they press on. Eventually they see four sets of footprints. Now Piglet is alarmed, and the two sit down to have a think. Happily they realize that they’re walking a circle and following their own footprints.
I laughed to the point of tears over it, but my little daughter sat motionless on my lap as I read. Her thin body was tight with dread, wondering what kind of creatures would overtake Pooh and poor little Piglet. Her fear was real.
Another time we took our kids to an IMAX theatre. My son was only three then and climbed into my lap. The giant screen and surround sound made him feel that he was actually soaring off cliffs, falling down waterfalls, and following a stampede. I felt his stomach muscles tighten as he leaned back into my chest, bracing his hands on the arms of the seat. His adrenaline pumped hard and his fear, just as real.
“Mommy, are we flying?”
There is an old saying that if a child has a nightmare about a roaring lion, there’s no use telling him it was just a dream. To a child it’s real. Perception is reality. Children feel and experience things deeply. 
Brent Curtis talked about this in The Sacred Romance. To paraphrase, he said that pain comes to us like an arrow in the heart and some of the most defining ones strike when we are young. It feels like an ambush and our response is at a gut level. We may never put words to it. Our deepest convictions are formed from the wounds of these arrows, and the effect is a shift deep in our soul. We make vows to never experience that sort of pain again. And this plays right into the enemy’s plan for our lives. He wants to kill our hearts, because he knows that all genuine love, all meaningful work, and all true worship come from the heart.
To lose heart, is to lose everything. Wise words from Brent. 
So how does that translate to an African orphan? While they may not know about heffalumps and woozles, the lion in their world might be real. They’ve no doubt seen some violence in an unstable culture. But worse are the deeply pernicious arrows of losing both parents.
We can close the book, or leave the movie theatre with our children, but the drama of feeling alone, scared and hungry was unending and far from imaginary for many of these children. That is, before they came to our village.
Last summer, in Kasozi Village, I held several of those kids on my lap as we read a story about crocodiles. Several other kids stood around me, huddling close to catch every word. We read the book twice, and then played I-Spy on each page. After that we counted everything that could be counted—especially crocodile teeth. We must have pored over every page five or six times, and afterwards, they wanted to read it out loud to me in unison. They pressed on it seems, so reading time wouldn’t end.
I didn’t feel any fear in their bodies. I didn’t hear any terror in their voices. I didn’t see any fright on their faces. Rather, I experienced them drinking up every drop of mother-like attention from me, even if it had to be shared by seven other kids. I realized that physical touch and closeness was a soothing balm on all the real fears they have lived with for years. And page by page, we will try to love these kids back to life.
Do you think simple things like this matter?
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Simple things do matter. I had the opportunity several weeks ago to spend time with a dear little 6 year old friend. She is a foster child. We went on walks, collected lady bugs, rolly pollies, and looked for flowers. I helped her with her homework, she helped me cook. We read stories and sang songs. She asked, “Would you keep me?” My heart broke…simple things do matter.
What a beautiful heartfelt account of your experience with the Uganda Orphans, Susan. In answer to your question, do these simple things matter? the children’s delighted response to your love is the best answer possible. I am reminded how totally lost and joyously abandoned I feel in Jesus’ arms, like this is where I am meant to be, was born to belong, and don’t ever want to leave. I want him to read to me, want to snuggle close and read back to Him, and do whatever will keep me in His healing Presence forever. You are the arms of Jesus for these precious children–who are the object of His deepest affection. Dearest Lord, teach us all to love who and what you love and cry over who and what you cry over. In your precious Name.
I sometimes think the simple things matter the most Susan. Not too long ago someone said “what you say to or do for someone will be forgotten, but how you make them feel, will always be remembered”. I have pondered that and believe it’s true. Those kids will remember your mother’s love for their whole lives. After my own Mom died we had a neighbor who had five kids of her own, but she always had time to connect with me on a heart level, and I remeber that more than anything during that confusing time. There’s no confusion for those kids when you’re with them like that-just heart felt love.
Those words are so true. It makes me so excited to be able to head out on outreach again; to be able to share love again with those who don’t know it. I often climb in bed with my girls or sing them songs or pray with them when they’re scared. Just my presence brings amazing peace to their little hearts, and that is so much less that the peace that God can bring! Thank you for sharing those words. You two are wonderful!
This is so amazing Susan, I so love how you weave words together! Loving children back to life is the perfect image/words for how the Father breaths into us the very life we were designed to express. The simplicity of His love reaching out to us through His Spirit and tangible things in the natural brings us back into the land of the living. Fear is a vicious tool of the enemy. As I think of the children in Uganda, see their faces in photos or my mind’s eye through their stories, I am continually cut to the heart. I realize that I too (we all ) have been have been crippled by fear in many different ways and injured by the lack of authentic love touches. It’s the invitation of Jesus lived out through present human hands and spirit-hearts that bring life to the children abandoned and abused. It’s always a reality check for me when I read updates about UOF. It causes me to look deep within and cry out, “Search my heart oh God! Heal me! Help me participate in what You are doing to heal others.”
Blessings!
Pam
That’s great, Susan! A top-quality blog for such a worthy cause. May God continue to bless UOF! Blessings, marilyn
People,touch, moments we feel we mattered and someone cared, heal. You susan, healed. To God be the glory.
it is so simple, so within our reach to give solace to these little ones.
you send arrows out in every direction that heal instead of wound.
thank you for caring with all your heart and spirt, soul, mind and body.
suzee b.
As I read your thoughts and reflected on the picture of the boy in my arms that day I remembered how sick he was and the tight grip he had on me..not knowing how God would touch my heart on this trip as I was able to be father-like to so many little orphans that have lost their parents and will never feel their loving touch. Yet God touched me through those lovely children and I will never be the same. I pray that all who read this will be touched and moved as much as those of us who went there and loved on these needy children. Uganda Orphans Fund needs your prayers as well as your generous support to continue this endeavor of love to the least of these in the eyes of the world. God Bless!