Kids will be kids. They will scrape their knees, laugh constantly, refuse to listen, attempt to take sugar from the fridge, and cry for attention as soon as they feel it’s necessary. Every day, from the rooster’s first crow to the cicada’s last hum, my full-time job as a house parent at Familia Feliz is to ensure that the needs of my 13 boys, ages 5-15, are met.

Even though I’ve been here for only about six weeks, my experiences have helped me notice daily miracles. And these miracles have made me view my kids’ lives in a different light.

As an orphanage/boarding school, Familia Feliz can reach the lives of many families that want or need help. Many of our children come from complicated backgrounds and didn’t get a chance to simply be kids. My experience with Eli,* one of my six-year-olds, perfectly describes this phenomenon.

It was a Thursday, the day off for my co-parent, Zoro. It was my second week here, and the boys had been learning more about me, just as I had been learning more about them. Everything had gone mostly smoothly that day until just before dinner. Then, the boys ran across a small bridge out front to avoid chores.

I couldn’t speak Spanish, and they couldn’t understand English. They knew what I wanted, but they looked at me with clueless expressions and occasional giggles as I helplessly tried to communicate the importance of being responsible. Finally, they relented and assumed their tasks, leaving me determined to expand my Spanish vocabulary.

After dinner, it was time for worship. Eli was yawning and sleepy, so I placed him on his mattress. I had just started a Spanish worship video for the boys when I heard distant crying. I left the video playing and ran upstairs to see what was happening. There was Eli in his bed, sleeping and crying.

I scurried over to him as the cries got louder and louder. When I arrived, I realized that I couldn’t do anything. He was asleep—a night terror. I couldn’t imagine what he was seeing. I don’t know where his dream came from. All I knew was that he had been smiling 30 minutes before. All I could do was hold him and pray.

Then, I began to hum any Christian song that came to mind. I don’t remember the songs, but his cries subsided as I continued. He was calmed by Christ.

Eli is a kid. He has no control over his dreams or the experiences that cause them, and I have no way of helping him other than praying and humming. Yet I trust God’s peace will heal him as he comes to Him as his Father.

*Name has been changed.

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