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What’s In a Name?: The Importance of Remembering Orphans

Even though Seth Barnes Jr. was visiting Magdala, he ended up visiting several orphans in Haiti desperate for remembrance. Seth was applying the call in James 1:27 in his walk.

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Here is Seth’s story:

 
“After both my parents died, my aunt took care of me. And then she brought me here.” 
Magdala’s voice rang in my ears as I approached her orphanage where she lives with 125 other orphans. I imagined the feelings that might be most familiar to her: loneliness and rejection.
 
As I approached the orphanage, a little boy greeted me with a huge smile. Taking my hand, he placed it on his upper body covered in scabies and turned around. He surveyed the room, as if he finally felt safe enough to take in his surroundings.
 
I impatiently looked up from him to the end of the hallway behind where we stood. Other children appeared from the courtyard, running by, stopping and making faces. A surge welled up in me with each girl that appeared. I asked the little boy that was with me his name.
 
Jubie.
 
As we rounded the corner at the end of the hall, I tried my luck at conversation with one of the men. I asked him about Magdala.
 
“Magdala?” he asked. “No Magdala. No.” He shook his head and looked at the ground. 
 
I wondered what sort of harm had come to her. 
Maybe I was pronouncing her name wrong. I tried several different ways. Nothing.
 
Jubie wandered off with some friends, and I felt strangely alone.
 
A woman came up to the man and me to see if she could help.
 
“Magdala!” the man shouted, excited that he had remembered.
 
The adults yelled her name all around. A minute later a little girl in a white princesss dress slowly and diffidently walked up. Her hair was put up in hair ties, poking in several different directions.
 
Magdala.
 
I told her how loved she was and how people were thinking about her and praying for her back at my home. We brought her into a separate room and gave her a doll and some letters. One of the orphans peeked through the window behind me and started crying. 
 
After a few minutes, I made my way to the front room and sat down. Jubie found me again and held my hand. I asked him his name another time. I wrote it down this time. Two others quickly ran up to me and told me their names.
 
They motioned for me to have their names written down on my scrap piece of paper as well, as if to say, “Remember me too!”
 
Billie. Wenley.
 
A little girl tried unsuccessfully to hold back a smile as she told me her name. 
 
Sagafina.
 
They wanted to be remembered like Magdala was remembered. Starving to be noticed, they hung on me and fought for my attention.
 
Five minutes later I made my way out of the orphanage. Jubie followed close behind, hanging onto the back right leg of my shorts. He stopped and waved with the other orphans as I walked off.
 
I headed back to our safe house with air conditioning, with an abundance of food, with an accommodating environment, with a loving community, and with my newly accosted heart.