Last month, I met the families in our Family Strengthening Program in person for the first time. For the past year and a half, working remotely for Hope Station, I’ve saved, sorted, organized, edited, and shared countless photos and videos of the kids and parents in China. So many that before I even arrived, I had long memorized all their faces, their names, and — or so I thought — their stories. 

I thought I knew what to expect, that I’d heard their stories enough times to know the struggles they face. But nothing could have prepared me…

…to sit across the table from a grandmother pouring her tears and heartache out for her grandchild who will likely never walk or talk.

Or the teenager sharing the sadness of her first friend breakup, and her mother thanking us afterwards for the visits that gave her daughter something to look forward to.

The blind mother opening up about her worries of her child’s future and her fears of the chance her daughter will also lose her eyesight.

And the grandma who sat quietly smiling from a distance, watching her grandson’s hour-long therapy session, and then, on our way out, insisted on stuffing our bags with fruits and water. 

Through these visits, I came to one new heartbreaking realization: nearly every child had someone who could still not accept their disability. Whether it was a parent, a grandparent, relatives, or even their school heads and peers, not one child was 100% accepted by the people around them. And you can tell that they and those who love them feel this rejection. 

On the other hand, a beautiful blessing was that they all had at least one family member who had chosen to fight for their care. But for some, this meant doing it on their own with hardly any support from the rest of the family.

This is what makes the therapy, home visits, emotional support, community, and training they get from Hope Station absolutely priceless. 

To these families, being in our program is so much more than just financial support. In fact, I didn’t hear even one of them talk about that.

Instead, what I heard over and over again was: “I’m so grateful that I’m not the only person who cares about my child. Knowing you and many people out there care for them, too, gives me the strength to keep going. Without you, I would have already given up.” 

I know it takes all of us, together, to give them that hope, so I extend their gratitude to you as well.

I’m back home working remotely again. But now, every time the staff in China sends me photos and clips from home visits, therapy sessions, or events, I hear the endless thank-yous, I recall the anguished tears, and I remember the gifts from their hearts in the form of juice bottles and fruits.

My goal as Hope Station’s Communications Officer is to continue to share the real children and families and their authentic stories with you. I hope that as I share, you’ll get a glimpse of the beautifully moving experience I had meeting these brave families in person. 

With humility,

Jaymee Torres

Int’l Comms Officer