The little faces

Yesterday when I was checking my e-mails, I came across one of those " mass forwarded e-mails" that majority of people just delete with a click without thinking. Me, on the other hand, I don't want to feel like I'm missing out, so I have to check at least the first sentences to see what it is about before I press the delete button.
This time I was glad I did! It was about a courageous Polish woman, Irena Sendler who risked her life to save the lives of 2.500 children during the 2nd world war. When I was reading about this woman's life, I began to cry. She took risks daily, she was tortured, she was sentenced to death by the firing squad and escaped, she lived her life as if there was no tomorrow. She looked radiant at 98, and died later that year.
I have a few heroes in paperback, who challenge me, who take me to a deeper place, who encourage me to live a fuller life, surrendering mine into the hands of love.
George Muller was another of my heroes, a totally different kind, but also he saved children by giving them a home and an education, living each day by faith alone.
Irena said in her words, that the children were the ones who suffered the most, the vulnerable ones, and that's why they needed to be saved. The children.
I can't even imagine being in her shoes, it's overwhelming just thinking about it.
What an amazing life she lived, amazing things she did, an amazing love she put into practice.
If there was a little of that love in each one of us, I bet the world would look very different.
My dream was always to save the hurt, the vulnerable, to save the children, the overlooked, the mistreated, the abused ones.
When I think of them, the ones I have met face to face, it takes me back to a painful place. To a place that sometimes I want to escape from. Who likes to be in that place? Where is too much pain to bear.
I think of a little girl I met with Leukemia, almost 2 years old, who called me mama mama, every time  she saw me walk in the door of that South African hospital for terminal ill children. She loved me, I could see it in her eyes, or was it a silent plead for help? Her own mother couldn't be with her on her last days because she couldn't pay for the bus ticket and had other kids to look after (that was what the nurse told me). As I was feeding her in my lap, the nurse told me with a wink in her eyes: you know, she can feed herself perfectly fine, but she loves when you do it. My heart broke a bit inside of me that day. She was so tiny, so fragile. And that was just one face, there were many more on that day, on that week, on those months I spent there.
How many more in the world? I want to help more, I dream to make a difference. I want to go back to that place. I know it is painful, but I know it is love.
I believe we can all be part of it, either praying or giving towards the needs. Every little bit will be part of the big picture.
Every day that I spend with my son, loving, playing, cuddling, kissing, eating, comforting, singing, dancing, reading, laughing, tickling, my heart aches of love for my little one. I cry with him if he is in pain after a fall, I want so badly to make him feel better right away. Life is a hard place sometimes, and when I think of all the little ones that they don't get to have that soft touch, that tight hug, my heart aches a bit more. And that's what I would like, for a little one to be loved, to know that somebody loves them, that it can be tangible and warm whatever they will be.

I would like to thank to some friends that they are doing it right now, I admire you for it, and I want you to know that you are doing an amazing work!! Keep it up!