Little Explosion, Morning Prayer

With chopped hair and a husky voice, her studded earrings are the only sign that she is not a little boy. Her skin is unlike the olive shade of most Arab girls, but is blackest black, meaning she came from a Bedouin tribe in the Jordan Valley. My first day at the orphanage last November she only spoke to yell at the other girls, and during the game of Go Fish she steathly switched the cards in her favor. When I attempted to give her a hug goodbye, she slipped out of my arms and refused to look at me. Her name is not easy to forget. "Fajer." "Explosion."

The change came gradually, perhaps after my friend praised her for not cheating, or as she calmed and warmed to the presence of both Jordanian and American women who came to love her. A gentleness began grow in her spirit.

Fajer doesn't have a mom to brag on her, so I will brag on her. I want people to know that she is the best color-in-the-lines eleven year old in Arabia. She loves approval of her pictures and points out her ability to color Sponge Bob in perfect shades of pink and purple. At the end of the day, she is a superb helper and often scrapes away at the play dough stuck deep in the carpet and gathers paper clippings. When other girls cry, she runs up and whispers in my ear that someone is in need of help.

The statistics of Fajer's future is not in her favor. Fifty percent of all girls who leave the orphanage at 18 become prostitutes, and 10 % commit suicide. In this culture, decisions about who to marry and even who to hire are based on family. Businesses are hesitant to hire a girl 'without a name' even if she has the skills and capabilities. Money is not the solution needed for Fajer right now- its hearts that are open to accepting a girl without a family name, Arab women that encourage their daughters to play with her at school, and local businesses that risk hiring girls without any name or honor.

Last night as Fajer and I finished an Arabic cartoon, I asked again, "Your name means 'explosion?"

In her beautiful, raspy voice she answered, "It can also mean 'morning prayer."

We said goodnight, and I watched her walk down the hall in her over-sized coat and in steps that had the sway of a tired old man, as I thought about the real meaning of her name.

Morning Prayer. Little Explosion is really a morning prayer.

"His mercies are new every morning."

I am brought to my knees in grief for Fajer and for her future, yet I place my hope in the One whose mercies are new every morning and the One who adopts sons and daughters as His own.

"In the morning, You hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation." Ps 5:3