I won’t ever forget the moment this little girl came up to me and placed her dry, cracked hands inside of mine. Her curious eyes gleamed with childlike wonder. It did not matter to her that we foreigners were surrounded by curious stares from onlookers in all directions. It did not matter that the area we were sitting in was gated to keep others out; she intended to know these strange white people in colorful kurtas sipping tea outside the home of a local. 

I glanced from my hands to hers. They spoke wordlessly about the different lives we have lived. My hands have been moisturized and manicured, and they have only reached for comfort, for want. Her hands were broken beyond repair, and they have reached out for help, for need. 

Gazing into the eyes of this little girl in this remote village in the Himalayas, I learned to love without words. She knew no English. I knew enough Nepali to ask her what her name was, but it was quickly forgotten. All I knew was that she needed love and attention, and that was why Jesus sent me there. 

She climbed, with struggle, up and over the low barricade I sat on. She pulled her tiny body up with the twisted face of determination and dirty snot dripping down her nose. She was unapologetically adorable. 

We played for what seemed like a very long time. The sun slowly slid across the sky, and still she was there. We played hand clapping games. I showed her a funny noise I can make with my voice. She asked me, without question, to make the noise over and over and over again. I would pretend I couldn’t do it anymore. “Chaina!” I tried to refuse in my broken Nepali. After taking a moment’s break, I would make the noise again and tickle her some more. 

The little boy beside her would watch us from a safe distance, never saying anything but always smiling, amused. As I played with the little girl he would slowly inch forward, sure he was unnoticed. As soon as he was within reach I would grab him and tickle, tickle, tickle. 

You know what’s funny about laughter? It’s the same in every language. 

During breaks between playing, I let the little girl sit on my lap and run her rough hands over my smooth hands. I prayed for her under my breath in between her giggles. 

My heart clenched later when an older man came and, after seeing how she fought for attention, yelled at her. She would look up at me with pleading eyes, talk quickly in her native tongue, and, despite the man’s disapproval of her plea for attention, I would make the funny noise again and wrap her in my arms. It didn’t matter that she was dirty and her behavior was frowned upon. Her joy made my trek worth it. 

All she wanted was love, and I knew the One who loves her more than anyone ever will. Oh, that I had the words to share! 

After the man reprimanded her a few times, she disappeared. 

I will probably never see her again. 

I would give anything to be back there right this moment. 

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 

There’s no feeling that compares to being right where God wants you to be, even if that place is one that most people don’t understand. 

Nepal, my heart yearns for you. 🇳🇵

photo credit: Bailey Plunkett