We are all different. We all come from a different place. We all have a different background. These children come from the slums of our city. They live on the streets. They feel hungry, they get beaten, they are stripped of the right to go to school, they are forced to hit the streets to beg. Each and everyone of them are beautiful and I love them all.
Three times a week the pastor, my parents and I get into a rickety old truck to collect these children. Some days we have 25 of them, other days we have 10. When the truck wheels come to a stop, the children come running from all directions. We wash them and their cloths, feed them and teach them about the love God has for them. The saddest thing about these children is that they are not loved. People here don't want to associate with them. Yes, they are dirty, but they can't help that. Yes they are wild, but they know no different. Yes, they come from the slums, but they cannot do anything about that.
That is where my mother and I come in. We love them and give them attention. We hold them, dress them, do their hair and my favorite part, playing with them. Despite their background, past and where they just came out of, the children smile. They laugh and play. I love those precious children.