Finalist 4: Courtney Andexler Vote Now

We Didn’t Know What Love Was Until Love Found Us

There he was in a blue collared shirt standing at the top of the cement ramp looking into the far distance. His little brown eyes glossed over as he choked back tears. I've never seen him cry. I've never seen him care so much before. I didn't think a ten year old boy could love me, a blonde foreigner from a different country, this much.

My team and I decided to go on a nine month mission trip. During that month we were asked if we could help Nicaraguan refugees in the poorest area in Costa Rica. Our days were filled English lessons, crafts, laughter, talks, sharing stories, and learning to love each other well. At the beginning of that month I was told that there was a little ten year old boy who wasn't well behaved and that I should be cautious of him. They told me he was an angry child with a troubled past who did some mistakable things. Although, the women's intent was to keep me safe there was this intense longing to know who this troubled child was. Their words didn't scare me. In fact, their words encouraged me to seek out and get to know this little one. There was an urgency in my heart to love him, for he did not know what love was.

As the weeks went on I saw him with his two younger brothers everyday. His hair was always gelled back and I could tell his momma always told him to look nice. He had fear in his eyes, but pretended to shove those feelings down into his broken heart. He tried to act tough. He tried to take care of his brothers. He tried to be the father he never had and I understood. I was once him years ago. He didn't know that though. He pretended like I wasn't there most days, but day after day of seeing his face my heart broke for him. What a burden it is to carry the weight of perfection, being stripped away from your childhood in order to a man, and enduring this pain in his heart.

There were some days that he helped me clean up crafts and gave the crafts to the women who accidentally left them. He loved to help and I could tell deep down he longed to be a good boy. Then there were some days he had a hard time listening. He would scream, say hurtful things, and even hurt other children. He would say these things to my face, but it somehow didn't shake off the feeling of love I had for this little boy. I wanted to show him love even though he didn't know how love me back. It was a decision to surrender myself, be vulnerable, and love with no expectations. Every time there was an incident I smiled at him or ask him a question afterwards and I could see the extreme guilt in his eyes. He couldn't even look me in the eye when ever he did something wrong. He was always told that he was a bad child. He was always told that his identity was found in his actions. He never knew right from wrong because he had no one in his life to show him. He never knew true love because the only love he knew was rooted in anger, bitterness, and pain.

On the last day we were there to help these Nicaraguan women and their children I watched him walk into the building. He looked shy. He helped serve food to us in silence. We ate, laughed, talked, and cried with the women and their families. It was a beautiful moment with all these people that I grew so fond of and longed to surround myself with. Then came the worst part: saying goodbye for maybe forever. This very poor village had become my home for the past two months. I felt an overwhelming sense of love and belonging there. I loved the people and the community. There wasn't anything I didn't like about it. Even though it was covered in trash and there wasn't anything physically appealing to it, it felt like the place I was supposed to be at. As we were saying goodbye to this community I now called home I watched him from the other side of the room. He stood there in silence with his hair all combed back neatly and wearing his nice blue collared shirt. He was sad I could tell. A few moments later I felt a tug on my arm. It was him staring up at me. He asked if he could take a picture with me. I said yes and before I knew it I had three other little boys in my lap including him who wanted to take a picture with me. That was the first time I saw him smile. It's one of my favorite pictures that I have.

As everyone started to leave me, my team, and his family were one of the last ones to go. Before I left I knelt down beside him. In the best Spanish I could I told him that I loved him. I told him that he is a good boy and just because he made some mistakes in his life that doesn't mean he's a bad person. I reminded him that we all make mistakes but our mistakes don't define our identity. He started sobbing. Just watching the tears streaming down his face hit my heart strings. We both cried together. He hugged me and begged me not to go. He asked me to stay forever and told me that he loved me too. I cried even more and told him the same. From the distance I heard my teammate shouting my name and I told him I had to go. I quickly ran down the cement ramp. When I got to the bottom I heard him call my name, "Corny". As soon as I heard his small voice I spun around and watched him run down the ramp too. He ran down the ramp, jumped, and gave me another hug. I hugged him back and put him down. I started to walk away and I turned back to see his precious face in between the trees. I shouted, "I will never forget you. You will always be in my heart forever. I love you buddy, you're a good boy."

This is one of the stories that I will never forget. It will always be special memory kept safely in my heart. I tell you this story because there is power in love. I’m not here to tell you how good of a person I am or boast about the experiences I’ve had or to even tell you that I have it altogether, because I don’t. I share this because I’ve been changed by the Lord. I wouldn’t have ever been able to love this little boy without first knowing what love is. I wouldn’t be able to love without the overflow of Christ’s love within my heart. He takes all the credit for that and I’m just thankful to have a memory such as this that I can keep forever. In essence this story isn't about me; it's about love. It's about the power of the love of Christ moving through the barriers of culture. A love that breaks down walls, chased after us, establishes our identity, stands in truth, and is not like any other. It's a story of God's love for this little boy and God's love within me. I am love because Jesus is love. I am because Jesus is.