Two days before I flew to China to teach at a children’s summer camp, Jo Jo woke up very early and came to our room. As soon as I opened my eyes, I saw him standing at our bedroom door, waiting for us to wake up.
“Mommy, I am 4-YEAR-OLD today!” He said with a huge smile.
“Happy Birthday, big boy. Let’s celebrate!”
It was like Christmas had come that steamy summer morning in Hong Kong.
While we opened presents in our pajamas, I realized what made this day so special - besides the Transformers, Iron Man and the Hot Wheels loop track - was how it feels to be the special kid of someone who makes a day that is just for you.
And at the end of the day, just in case I didn’t remember, God reminded me again.
“I love my birthday!” was JoJo’s simple prayer before bedtime.
Then I flew to China with this word on my heart.
We had over 40 volunteers from different parts of China, the Philippines, Korea and America and more than a hundred children of migrant workers from outside town.
The second day of the camp, a volunteer from America came up to me,
“Cassy, I was just talking to Kate, (a wonderful girl from the Father’s House) and she doesn’t know when her birthday is. How is this possible?”
My heart remembered the word from God.
“...how it feels to be the special kid of someone who makes a day just for you.”
That night, I stared at the ceiling unable to sleep.
“How can I explain so people understand what it’s like to live as a migrant kid in China?”
I don’t know how long I cried.
The One Child Policy has been in effect since 1978. Second children are aborted. Some mothers hide. Those who can afford it go overseas to give birth or pay the fine.
Only the rich have choices.
The unlucky ones stay. The birthdays of these children may not be happy, and definitely are not days to be celebrated. For these children, their birthdays mean the beginning of a life of hiding, living as outcasts in the alleyways of society. Most of these children will never know their birthdays.
And yet, experts estimate at least 4 million of these children somehow survive in China.
NO birth certificate.
No I.D. and no chance of a passport.
They DO NOT exist.
They will never know a proper education and never have a proper job.
Unrecognized, uncelebrated, and deprived of the most basic human right - the right to existence.
I thought of JoJo’s face when he opened his first present - a Transformer, of course - but I can’t stop the pain knowing all my other kids at the Father’s House will never know what it is to have a special day just for them. A day when someone celebrates them.
I used to take care of disadvantaged children in China as a job, as a worker. Now, as a mother, I see these children as a mom does. And I want them to have nothing but the best.
Exiles in their Own Country.
On the third day, after all the skits and teaching. The kids were dismissed to activities.
A female volunteer came to me, a Chinese university professor.
“Thanks for teaching these migrant children. Our country has abandoned them. We should start a training school to train boys to be factory workers and girls as house helpers.”
I bit my lip. “Do you have children?” I asked, hoping I was hiding my true feelings toward this well intentioned idea.
“I did not break the law. I have only one child.”
“Where is he now?” I asked.
The proud mother replied, “We spent everything we had to send him to Canada. He’s graduating this year and he just told us on the phone that he’s not coming back. My husband and I are getting old and now we don’t have anyone who will take care of us. But I don’t blame my child for not coming back. We just want to give our son the best.”
This was a good woman with good intentions, but is it any mother’s dream for her children to face exile or be forced to survive as slaves of the Chinese system on $180 U.S. dollars per month?
The summer camp was a huge success in many ways. On our last day, all of the children heard that they were deeply loved by God and that with Him, Nothing is impossible.
Then we asked them to share their dreams.
“I’d like to be a teacher!” one boy proudly declared.
“I’ll be a lawyer. To make sure there’s justice.”
I yearned for God to hear their prayers.
I sought out Kate to ask her what she wanted to be.
At first, she didn’t answer. But then I watched as her face changed and she began to sob uncontrollable tears.
She may not remember her birthday, but she is old enough to know that if something doesn’t change, the best she can hope for... is to be someone else’s servant.
Today, as you are reading this, I pray that you will believe God can bring a special day for those denied existence and we will stand up for them to end one of the worst violations of human rights in history.
Will you stand with us?
