Skip to main content

Playing UNO with a 3 year old.


“We get seven cards each”, she exclaimed enthusiastically as she with great concentration dealt two piles of just that. We picked up a pile each and started playing. It was a special moment of playing UNO with my 3 year old niece at the coffee table and having quality time when distance keeps me from seeing her as much as I would like.  We didn’t include the most competitive aspects of the game (like slamming your hand down on the pile when a 10 appears or being silent when there is a 7), but we did play the real game, and of course I helped her a bit by suggesting things like she should swap colours to a colour she actually has in her hands.

Colours.

As my niece confidently declared the colours she was in possession of, my mind flashed back 13 years to a slum in Brazil. I was playing the very same game (with a slightly more worn and dirty deck of cards) with a 5 year old, and finding my heart sink as it became very clear that when she’d get a colour right, it was a lucky guess, and really she had no clue of what colours were. Where spending time with her was about so much more than another one of the many loving people in her life playing a game with her. It was about someone taking time to give her attention that included positive words, where the rest of the time she was mostly told how useless and worthless she was.

I wonder where she is now. Her journey while I was there was horrendous at times and heart wrenching at others, and she went through the lowest of the low of exploitation, addiction and abuse. Yet it also took her on the path of getting off the streets and to a beautiful orphanage that became home. It led her to encounter Jesus and find freedom and love in Him.

She is now grown up. For a while those closer to her kept me posted on how she was doing, but last I heard they had lost track. I don’t know where she is or what is going on in her life. But I hope she is well and that she is walking confident of how loved and special she is. Maybe I’ll see her again some day... and get to remind her of her value.

When my niece would win the game she would jump up and down exclaiming “I won! I won.” If I won (playing UNO is serious business and in spite of the age difference we still played it correctly) I would tell her that she “won” second place, which would also bring her bursts of joy.

I pray that the other children like that 5 year old can have moments of unburdened joy like that, no matter what their circumstances are. And that someone would take time to teach them the colours and tell them they are loved.

Popular posts from this blog

Taking in the familiar and a heart connected.

Amsterdam. It still has that muggy feeling in Summer, and a constant flow of people which if you stop to think about it, it's quite amazing that there would even be space to accommodate them all. But then I guess they are not all staying. Just passing through on their way to or from somewhere. It's always good for the heart to visit somewhere that was once home. The familiarity of streets and customs makes it easier to embrace what might be new as well as the joy of being reacquainted with old friends. Friends. So many of them to be found in this city, ready with hugs and good words that are uttered when seeing someone who was away again. Friendship. A treasure that cannot be bought. Cobblestones trodden by many, including myself. Sitting on a bench. Praying. Remembering the first time I stumbled upon this area lined with windows with red lights and curtains. An area which has come to represent no longer windows, but people to me. Some still behind a window. Others who have ...
Read more

Getting to know the local culture.

Life is a strange thing. Last week went…not much happened, and then it was over. The weekend was quite calm without too many wild and exciting things happening. Except, of course, a wee outing to watch the National Championship for Veteran Ploughing. Now, like me, you might be sadly lacking an understanding of what this actually means. So I am delighted to be able to enlighten you in this respect. It’s basically (for the “farm-language-illiterate” like myself) a competition where you use old (hence the name “veteran”) tractors and ploughs, and plough up a stretch of field which is then evaluated and the one scoring the highest sum (accuracy, depth, how well the soil is turned is all given points) wins. I must admit that this information I got by eavesdropping on a conversation next to me where a man was explaining to some of my friends how it all works. So that was a fun adventure….although we only stayed for a bit. What is sort of occupying my mind at present is my upcoming travel abr...
Read more

What was your dream?- scraping the surface of the heart of Albania

“What was your dream when you were 20?” That was a question our guide asked us as we were standing outside a huge derelict cement monument in Tirana, the capital of Albania. We’d spent the day touring and hearing a lot about the history and journey of Albania, a young country with more Albanians living in other countries than in Albania itself. A country where tourism has only really been built up the past 30 years. It was eye opening to hear more of the history, and it made me realise that this country is so much more than meets the eye. A country where the beaches and tourist area of Durres Riviera was packed with tourists, mostly from the Balcan area. A country where hospitality is ingrained in the culture, and where the friendliness of the people was noticeable. After a pause to let us reflect over the question of dreams, for some thinking further back than others, our guide told us that for him it had been to own a pair of jeans. That simple fact said so much. Both of what he...
Read more