a notification popped up on my phone today: it’s Danise’s birthday! i remember when she put her name in the calendar of my phone for october 10th. she requested pink shoes and a pink watch and some snacks. i couldn’t promise her the watch, but i think i’ve got something up my sleeve to make sure she gets a new pair of shoes today.

i know danise won’t see this today, but I still wanted to write a little tribute to share why I think she is so special. so many of my sweetest memories come from moments with danise. we’ve spent hours dancing in the rain, giggling, snoozing through the early morning, cuddling on the top bunk of a creaky bed frame. my most favorite thing about danise, though, is the softness of her heart.

in august, danise came with us for a couple days to buy and distribute mattresses. we were hanging out in the street outside the mattress store waiting for the rest of the pieces to arrive. a begging man came through our group and hassled some of the guys for money. everyone presently ignored him. he made his way down the line, even asking our girls for food or money. we all took one look at this man and shot our eyes to the ground. if you don’t make eye contact with him, rejecting a starving man is less convicting. right?  a few minutes later, we bought some crème off the street to cool our whole party down. the man had returned, and motioned at all of us for our sweet treat. cecilia tossed him the remaining third of her crème. he slurped it down, crushed the cup in his hand,  tossed the trash into the street in front of us, and walked away. 

although common, experiences like that always make me slightly uncomfortable. as he walked away and moved onto the next tent, I looked around at my girl crew. danise’s face had hardened over and tears welled up in her eyes. I asked her what was wrong, and the tears broke and streamed down her face as she shook her head. after a few moments, danise composed herself and pulled on my dress. in a very soft voice–the voice she uses when we need to talk about something serious–she said, “I cry because of that man.” I held her hand and asked her if he made her scared. she shook her head no. “I cry for that man. he say, ‘give me crème.’ I am sad for that man.”

I was completely stunned. this haitian orphan, who has already gone through more trauma in her 12 years of life than I ever will, was broken under the thought of another human being that desperate. when everyone else turned their back on this man because he was nothing more than a nagging beggar, danise watched him walk away and cried for him. I am blown away by the power in that moment every time I think about it. I think about the power danise has to feel that much, even after all she’s been through. I think about the empathy it takes to feel some stranger’s hunger pains. I think about the courage it must take to be that young, live in such a broken place, and still choose to hold other people’s burdens. i think about the hardness that haiti has brought over the hearts of so many people that live there, and it makes sense. it would be so much easier to choose not to feel that pain of suffering for everyone. but danise still chooses to be soft. she still chooses to feel my sadness with me, and she still chooses to feel that man’s sadness so deeply.  and after i’ve thought about all these things, it reminds me of something: Jesus.

Matthew 9:36–When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.

the softness of heart that danise demonstrated that day reflects what I imagine to be Jesus’ heart for us. over and over again Jesus is moved by compassion when he looks at us. God knows the outcome of our suffering. he knows the promises that are to await us when we are in the midst of our storm. but even so, He does not distance himself from our pain. He goes there with us. our pain moves Jesus with compassion to dive into our human afflictions, and weep with us. sometimes, crying with us is all He does in that moment. He knows the goodness to come, He knows that one day we will look back at this season and say, “can you believe I wept over that?” but still, our current suffering pulls at Jesus’ heart in the same way that man pulled at danise’s heart. danise reminds me to go back to loving like a child. she reminds me the sweetness that comes from choosing to take on each others burdens. dansie chooses this, and sometimes she is overcome with sadness and can do nothing other than weep. but because danise chooses this, her ability to love becomes so much like Jesus. her heart mirrors the Lord. and that is my most favorite thing about her.

so, happy 13th birthday angel. I pray that this year will bring you learning, security, friendships, joy, and a whole lot of jesus. I am overwhelmed with gratefulness that the Lord has brought you to a place where I can meet you. I am undeserving to be loved by you, but I am forever changed by your heart.