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The light has slowly filtered out of the breezy evening. Against the darkening sky I can see the outline of leaves standing tall from their lofty position several stories high. I sit cross-legged, my laptop balanced in my lap and music playing in the background.

Underneath this same sky is another young girl. Soft brown eyes and a gentle smile adorn the face of Zewan, 12 years old. Her story comes out as we sit together, the pain managed in her serious face. “He doesn’t love me,” she says. We are sitting in a church building within a gypsy suburb, the efforts of a nearby church who have effortlessly given to these often-despised people. The room is clean and polished, starkly contrasting against the rest of the village. Zewan is one of many children who has come to this place within the heartache of a dysfunctional family unit. She is speaking of her father when she tells us he does not love her. “He only hugs me when he is drunk,” she explains.

Parental abuse in these gypsy villages is common. Whether physical or verbal (or both), many of these children face the challenge of being fed the lie that they will never amount to anything. They will never push past the spiraling wave of hopeless despair. But here, within the two rooms of this second story church, they are told something different.

I take her both of her hands as we cry out to the Father Who will never leave or forsake her. We cry out together, begging our Savior for the work only He can accomplish. The Lord will not leave her fatherless. There will always be love for Zewan in the arms of her Heavenly Father.

* Blog article written by Sara Scott - Editor and writer for Changing a Generation. These are true stories written during Sara’s summer missions trip to Bulgaria. Names of children are changed for protection purposes.


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