Little Faces, Little Hands in Cuba

As time went on in the mission work in Cuba, a deep burden fell on this consecrated servant of God. When she left India with a breaking heart and with apparently no remedy for the sad situation, she was comforted from above. Part of the solace that came in that dark hour was an assurance that, in His time, God would give her a part in this beloved work in future years.

She relied on God’s sure promise, and as the years went on, things were ripening toward the very experience. The awful conditions prevailing in Cuba among the poorer classes and the sight of little children in the doorways at night, on benches in the parks, or on the streets in their destitute and helpless condition, stirred her heart to its very depths.

She writes in 1943 of one particular case, showing the picture of two pretty, intelligent boys:

These children were practically born in the church of God; today they are destitute and helpless. What shall we do with them? Save them for God and for the Church, or give them to the Roman Catholic home? This is the only free open door there is in Cuba. The answer for this question for these and for many others is in your hand. We are ready for service, but awaiting your reply. What shall the answer be?

The parents of these dear little boys were brought out of darkness into the marvelous light of the Gospel of Jesus Christ through the changed life and finally the death of their oldest child, a girl of thirteen years. Just one year after becoming a Christian and after four days illness, she went to be with Jesus, leaving a clear testimony of being ready to go. She had very faithfully attended one of our mission Sunday Schools and was converted.

Both parents were converted soon after her death, so these little boys have been reared in the fear of the Lord from birth. Last January, a few hours before the mother passed away to be with Jesus, she earnestly asked that the children be kept in the church. The father, also being a Christian, has struggled nobly to keep the children, but the extremely low wages he is able to earn, together with the terribly high prices on all necessary articles brought on by present day war conditions have made the situation impossible.

This dear family has been reduced to where they have, for a long time, been existing on one scant meal daily. The father, seeing the deep suffering of the children, has searched far and near to find a home where he could put the boys for care and protection. Only one door has been thrown wide open where they might have food, clothing, and educational advantages absolutely free. Yes, in every land, we find the Roman Catholics with their doors wide open for the children, for they know the value of work among children.

But it seems that God’s children have been slow to see the great opportunities offered and the deep responsibility there is in helping to save the children of the land. But I am convinced that God expects His people to stretch forth their hands to save the children, “His little lambs,” so that the cause of Christ may be strengthened, especially in the mission field.

I have now finished many years of labor in Cuba, and I have at different times seen much suffering among the poor people, but never before have I seen such depth of suffering among the laboring classes as I have seen these years; and each month the conditions are growing more serious. The case presented is by no means an outstanding one. Many families who formerly managed to keep their families together are utterly unable to do so now. Only last week, a dear girl who had long attended one of our Sunday Schools was turned over to the Catholics by her mother because she was unable to stand the struggle of trying to support her child any longer.

A short time ago, one of our ministers found a fourteen-year-old boy dying by the roadside. He rushed him to the hospital, and when the doctors pumped his poor stomach, they could pump nothing out, and they declared that the boy had long been without food. A note was found in his pocket saying that he could not endure life any longer, that he had no parents, no place to sleep, no food, and was almost naked, so he had taken poison to end it all. Thank God, his life was saved, and he was placed for a time in a country home. But the future holds nothing for him.

The hearts of many of our workers have long been stirred over these conditions, and we are resolved that something must be done, at least on a small scale, to save a few of these poor children and to give them an opportunity of being reared under the influence of the Gospel of Christ. Has not Christ said: “Suffer little children, and forbid them not”* (Matthew 19:14)? And also that “to the poor the gospel is preached”* (Luke 7:22)? Let us stir ourselves, and by saving them and giving them an opportunity of preparing for life, we can thus extend the kingdom of God in the hearts of men.

Again she writes:

We feel a new responsibility is thrust upon us by existing conditions. In Cuba, as in all lands, we find many homeless children. Can we continue to see them taken into homes where they receive strange doctrine, and be guiltless before the Throne of God on the day of Judgment? Brethren, we cannot afford to let this continue longer.

The war has caused great suffering in Cuba. Prices on all necessary articles have increased greatly, and there is no more employment than formerly. The suffering among the poorer classes increases as time goes on. These conditions have caused many more children to be destitute, and we feel that God places upon us the responsibility of doing something for these helpless little ones. So, after much prayer, we have decided to open a small home where we can take in and care for those whom God sends our way.

We realize that this is a big undertaking; however, we feel sure that God is leading in this step, so we fear not.

So with eighteen Sunday Schools and sixteen congregations, with the English and Spanish radio work, with the literature which also included the monthly issue of the church paper, Luz Evangélica, being published, now a new and daring project had been added in the fear and faith in God. Later we read her report:

It is now three years since we have put out a booklet on our work among the destitute children of Cuba, and since God’s dealings with us have been so gracious, we feel under obligation to sound His praises that others may know that He is still the Father of the fatherless and that even today, He does lead His children forward in their activities for His name’s sake.

We also desire that those who have labored among us in this great undertaking, either through sacrificial giving or through prayer, may be much encouraged to continue in the good work, knowing of a truth that God has been with us and blessed us.

The existing conditions in Cuba have resulted in despair and are the cause of much suicide and of many broken homes, and the innocent little children are always the helpless victims of these cruel circumstances which have surrounded their little lives. Many mothers have been left alone in the struggle to care for their children, either through the death of the father or through desertion, and are forced through these circumstances to enter the battle to sustain life by public begging. When sufficient food is not to be obtained by this means, they resort to searching through garbage tins in the alleys, or, through the pangs of hunger, are forced to steal, that they may live. Then they must also learn how to dodge the policemen.

When night comes on, they have nowhere to sleep but on the benches in the city parks or in the doorways of the homes of those more fortunate than they. Thus sleeping in the open and living the life of a common beggar, these helpless children rapidly drift on in a school of crime and shame until, early in life, many of them fall into the hands of the officers of the law who are forced by duty to lay hands on them.

Thus their doom is sealed for time and eternity. Many of these children are branded criminals while yet in their early teens. Many learn to blaspheme, to steal, and do many other wicked things before they are old enough to go to school. The cold, hard fact is that the only school these children know is the school of shame, immorality, and crime where they rapidly develop in their knowledge of vice, impurity, and immorality; and as they suffer (not knowing why) and daily look on more fortunate persons, bitterness and revenge soon fill their little hearts and minds.

And friends, remember, these boys and girls will be numbered among the fathers and mothers of tomorrow. Is it any wonder that crime and immorality are increasing at a terrible rate in Cuba?

Then we have another class of children whose lives are filled with sorrow and suffering such as never should touch them. We have many little ones who had a good father or a noble mother who could never see their little ones numbered among the common beggars on the streets, but who have been left alone in their bitter struggle to maintain life caused by the death of the other parent. Or maybe they have been deserted by the other companion and find it impossible to provide for their children.

Many of these have sacrificed their own health on the altar of parenthood, in their struggle to feed, clothe, and shelter their children. And if no helping hand is held out to such parents, many grow so desperate they commit suicide, or if not, their own health breaks, mentally or physically, and they go to an early grave, leaving their children to the mercies of the cold world.

It has been officially estimated that during the last year, over six hundred homeless children nightly slept either on benches in the open parks or in doorways of homes. The well-to-do pass by these homeless creatures, shrugging their shoulders and possibly exclaiming, “poor things,” and pass on to their comfortable beds for the night. You may ask, “And is nothing being done to alter this awful situation?”

We unhesitatingly answer, yes, something is being done to provide for the future. Jails and reform schools are waiting with wide open doors, where a little later they will undoubtedly be sheltered from public view. But for this present time, the only ones who are interested in these little ones are the city police. Some of these noble-hearted men have long sought for an open door where they could place these underprivileged children, giving them an opportunity to make something of themselves, thus saving them from a life of shame and degradation.

We have, during these years of service in Cuba, passed up and down the streets of the great city of Havana, looking on the very picture I have placed before you. I reached a place where I felt I could no longer refrain from putting my hand to the task, and doing what I could to at least change the course of things in the lives of a few.

Thus on February 10 of the year 1944, a small home was opened. Praying for guidance and looking about for a suitable place where they might be able to house a group of children, they finally located a house in Santa Fe. This small town is a few miles away from Havana. They notified policemen that preparations were being made for such a project.

Twenty years had passed over since the last tearful farewells had been said to dear ones in India. In those days the sorrow was so great and the load so heavy that she called on God in mercy to let her forget. Never in all the years was she ever again to look upon those loved faces where she had continually endangered her life to rescue them. After that, the long blank period, the prayer of supplication, and the assurance that God would again someday give her a part in saving His lambs; and now after long hard years of service in Cuba, the light again was burning, and she was actually preparing for another effort beginning in late years of life.

There was only twenty-eight dollars in the treasury with which to buy supplies, but there was expectation and eager looking forward on the part of the missionary and her two workers who had been appointed to look after the children. They put up cots in the rooms, and policemen also came bringing cots folded up under their arms. They were told that only the most destitute children would be admitted as only fifteen could possibly be admitted.

They threw open the doors of the cottage in Santa Fe, and the policemen began to bring the children in off the streets. Dear little suffering children in the hands of these strange men, the policemen, and fearful, but going somewhere and promised a home and shelter and food. But many of these children do not even know what the word home means, as do you and I. They have never had a home and shelter and a proper bed. Some of them slept on doorways and benches so long that they have forgotten what they really were, if they did once have them—helpless little children, drifting along in the tide of life as the seaweed drifts along the shore, pushed by the great forces back of it. Dressed in rags called clothes, undernourished, often unclean, uncared for, neglected, they began to come in one by one or two.

At last fifteen cots had been set up, and the last bit of space consumed, and fifteen children, one for every cot, had been brought in. There was no more room. Just then a policeman came bringing in two little waifs from off the streets.

“We are sorry,” they said, “there is no more room, not even to lie on the floor.”

“Do you mean that I must take these little children back, after promising them a shelter and food and bringing them all the way here?”

“We have done our best, and you can see for yourself that there is not room for one more child.”

Sorrowfully, the policeman turned away again with the little ones to the hopeless streets and hunger and suffering. A cloud of sorrow was hanging over the happy day of the opening of the new home. There was a short service of dedication, and all who had gathered soon departed except those who remained to care for the children. They told the departing policeman that the matter would be taken before God, and that as soon as He supplied larger quarters, they would notify him, and he could bring the two children back.

Then alone, they faced the fact that they now had in their care fifteen hungry children and nothing for supper. This was indeed a faith venture, and they cried out to God. All through the dedication service, they had been sending up a silent cry to God to supply the food. A little later, a woman came in from the surrounding neighborhood with a large tray with eighteen rolls on it, and on the platter, underneath the rolls, lay a dollar bill. Soon another kind neighbor came in with enough oranges and bananas for all.

With the dollar, they purchased cocoa, milk, and sugar, and so managed that supper and breakfast were taken care of at the proper time. Oh, the marvelous goodness of God; truly His ways are past finding out!

She writes:

On February 10, 1944, a small home was opened where we could, by crowding, take in fifteen children. This was a very definite venture of faith, as our mission work in Cuba never has been supported by any Mission Board, but through all these years, we have trusted God to supply the necessary means and to guide us in every step. In answer to prayer, we have advanced step by step, but this new undertaking was a great one, as it would naturally involve heavy expenses. But believing that God is the Father of the fatherless and that He was definitely laying on our heart to care for some of His little lambs, we believed He would also touch hearts to supply the financial needs of these children.

So when He called us forth in this new field of service, we placed on Him the entire burden of the support of the institution, and He has never once failed us. Praise His Holy Name! Our hearts on the day of dedication were overwhelmed by sadness as so many destitute cases were brought to us that we had to turn away more than we had room to receive. So before even the dedication of this small building, we went in secret in a closed room, and there on our faces before God, we poured out our hearts in humble prayer, asking God to step in and in some way give us larger quarters.

Perhaps few who read this narrative will realize some of the problems of such a venture. One family of children that came in had practically lived on the streets. There had been no former training, no set rules of life. Not only was theirs the task of washing and ironing and even feeding these children by faith, but the patient endeavor of training them little by little, fifteen children all brought up together under one small roof, to live together in harmony and order. Some had never slept on beds; some had no idea how to eat at the dinner table or how to get along in peace with others. Those days were full of adventure, full of problems and discouraging experiences never gone through in the land of India. This was a harder field in every way, in this sunny isle so close to the United States.