Tessa Hall of Haskell, Texas worked as a volunteer during a Buckner mission trip to Russia July 3-13. Her husband, Kevin, pastor of First Baptist Church of Haskell, led the multi-church team, which conducted a Vacation Bible School-type summer camp for children from St. Petersburg’s Orphanage No. 2 and worked in Orphanage No. 15, a hospital where abused, neglected or abandoned children are taken for treatment and assessment. Like many team members, Tessa Hall was affected in a personal way – as a mother – during her time spent in the hospital. While we were with the “big kids” at summer camp, I hurt for them because of their hunger for attention and affection. At the same time, they seemed so independent and accustomed to their situation. While I recognized their need for love and a Christian home, I didn’t ache so deeply for them as much as I did for the sweet, innocent, babies at No. 15, the street children’s hospital. I know that all of the children are in the same situation, but there was something about the babies that crushed my spirit. I was able to be strong with the big kids, but I just broke at the hospital, and I think I know why. I can easily recall every emotion I experienced during my pregnancy with my daughter, Alli, and the overwhelming emotions I felt the moment she was born. I was in love with her the moment I first heard her heartbeat while she was inside of me. I remember the first time I saw her on the ultrasound – I had never loved anyone the way I loved her at that moment. I looked at those sweet little people in that hospital and I wanted them and their mommies to have what Alli and I have. I reached out to touch several babies in some way. I didn’t just want to touch them physically. I wanted to reach their little hearts. I have never seen anything like it before. One little boy winced as I reached into his crib to rub his back. One little girl looked at me as I talked to her and then quickly looked away, almost as if to say, “Please don’t. Please just go.” Most of the babies just stared at me with empty eyes as I talked to them, as if they didn’t know how to respond. Several of us entered a room with four babies. We were walking in a line and would pick up the next baby in the row. But then I spotted a little baby boy at the end of the room who was obviously not next in line. I spotted him quickly because he immediately began to cry the moment he saw us coming. I went straight to him, because I needed to hold him. I recognized that he knew how to respond. He had obviously been held before. He knew that if he cried, someone would pick him up. I don’t know what’s worse: Children who don’t know how to respond to touch because they’ve never experienced it before or, like that little boy, children who had an abundance of touch at one time and are now going to have to learn how to live without it.