to the seventeen year old who broke my heart

I thought after ten months of hellos and good-byes, they’d get easier. Turns out, they don’t.

For me, they’ve gotten harder.

My team was placed at an orphanage during month ten, in Medellin, Colombia. I knew I’d love the kids. But I thought there would be one or two of the girls, five tops that I got close with. Turns out I was wrong. And it turns out it was the bros that I got to know and spent the most time with.

The first day, I was with the girls. It was pretty chill, and the girls were all pretty independent, so I sat with them and hung out while they did homework, but they were pretty self-sufficient.

The next day was the first day I met all the boys. There was one in particular who I assumed was the oldest, who had been here for a pretty long time.

He messed with the other kids in a kind and loving way. He helped them do what they needed help with. He loved them like they were his actual siblings.

I watched this kid a lot. Hung out with him a lot. I don’t speak Spanish, so we didn’t talk a ton. But I loved spending time with him and the other boys. They love so well. They love to play and have fun and be kids.

God told me this oldest broski in the house had a hard story. That it pained him to talk about it. But that the reason he loved so well was because of the pain he knew, and sometimes still knows. 

A few days before we left, I laughed through near tears because I found out he knew a bit of English. Enough to have a conversation. The next day we went to play soccer at the Park with some of the other boys. God made me bold and told me to ask him why he was at the orphanage. So I did. “It’s a story I don’t like. I don’t really feel like telling it.” We changed the subject and joked around about being siblings the rest of the walk home.

I never had brothers growing up. I have one older sister. And I always wanted brothers. Especially a younger brother. This kid filled that place in my heart. God gave me my little brother.

We leave Medellin today, to travel to Ecuador for our final month of our travels before going back to our homes. I started grieving having to leave this place two days ago.

Last night, this little brother said, “I have something for you.” He handed me a photo of him in a popsicle stick frame. Tears formed in my eyes. 

“Te gusta?” (You like it?)

“Si. Me gusta.” (Yes. I like it.)

Costa Rica was hard to leave, but Colombia ripped a different piece of my heart.

I’m already praying to return here. I’m already making steps to come back and visit, because I’m this place, I found another picture and definition of family. I found my little brother God promised me years ago, but it never made sense.

To the 17 year old who broke my heart, and yet filled it:

I love you a lot, my sweet and kind little brother. This goodbye is the hardest I’ve had to say in the past ten months. I’ll miss you greatly. I’m coming back as soon as God permits. Which hopefully is soon. Thanks for loving me well even though I’m very terrible at ping pong, soccer, and speaking Spanish. Thanks for always wanting to me on my soccer team just so you can laugh when I miss every goal, and high-fiving me like I made every single one. I will miss you so much.

Until I return, this is a goodbye, but hopefully more of a “See you later.” Because I have every intention of returning. And I believe with everything in me that God will grant me this dream and want in my heart. Keep your heart open and keep loving your siblings big. Chase your dreams and don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t do something. I believe in you and that you are meant for big and amazing things.

Thanks for breaking my heart. It’s been a lesson I learned, but in a different way. Love has a consequence. The consequence to me, in a lot of ways, is pain. But I believe with everything in me that it’s better to know the pain from loving hard than to not. I believe that hard goodbyes are actually a good thing, even though it doesn’t seem like it. Hard goodbyes means there was an exchange. That each party poured in, but also that they received. And that, truly, is the greatest gift in life.