Acapulco, Mexico, has a story very different from the glamorous resort known to American tourists.

That story is the reality for the almost 3,000 street children of the city, ages 4 to 19 years old. It is a reality that has hits me every time I see these little ones on the streets of my community.

Last summer I invited a short-term mission team to prepare an outreach to these kids. That was the first time we approached them. Even though the group prepared very well, the event was not successful. The children were on drugs, they did not know who we were, they hardly cared for the breakfast we provided. They only wanted their drugs. In their presence we could feel a lot of bitterness.

Six months later, we prepared for another outreach. People from the churches in Acapulco volunteered to take part in the event, and this time it was different. They remembered us! We fed them breakfast, played soccer with them, sang some songs. When we said goodbye, they kept asking, “When are you coming back?”

Since that day, we have been coming back every month and getting to know “the family” better. This is a group of about 30 children, whose stories we have come to learn. Jessica, 17 years old, has been in the streets for 10 years. Hector, 9, comes and goes to his home, where his father is alcoholic, and apparently nobody cares for him. Samuelito, 8, who was recently raped in the streets. Marisol, 16, is now pregnant. Esmeralda, 15, ran away from her home, to escape from an abusive father.

All these children have a common background. They are unloved and unwanted. They feel the rejection of the ones who should protect them. Now, living in the streets, they experience the rejection of the society around them. They have found a cheap way to “be happy:” inexpensive glue that gets them high as soon as the substance reaches their brains, while slowly killing their neurons. They want to be “free” in order to have their glue, and they get in trouble getting it. But this is what they live for.

Lately, they have been hearing about the One who can make them eternally joyful. Along with members of the churches in Acapulco, MTW short-term mission teams have been visiting them on a weekly basis, and they have just loved it. A normal event with them begins with a breakfast, providing them with food which may be their only meal all day. Then we play games or do crafts. Sometimes we sing worship songs with them, or share testimonies. Through this time, that bitterness has changed, and now we have children who run to hug us and talk with us whenever they see us.

A week ago, the group of interns and I took 20 of them to the movies, with an offering from a short-term mission team that had visited them for a whole week.

It was an exciting thing to see them arrive on time at the meeting point, taking showers and getting clean clothes and shoes. It was so special for them to be able to walk in the mall where their entrance is always denied. They were normal children, having a normal life, watching a movie, eating popcorn and drinking soda.

In October 2001, Mission to the World offered their support to start a ministry for these kids. God has greatly blessed this project by giving us the relationship with this “family of 30.” I am very thankful to see how individuals and groups are helping us. This is an encouragement for the second phase of our project, which includes opening a drop-in center in the Acapulco area, so that the children who are interested in a change in life can have the proper environment and the discipleship they require for their spiritual growth. Once they have made this transition, our dream is to provide them with an adoptive family.

Last time we met with them, we overheard this exchange between two of the street children.

“Why do they do all this?”

“Can’t you see? They are different!”

Jesus is the One who made us different, and may He himself make the difference in all these precious ones that belong to Him.

Maggie González is associate staff with MiTW's StreetChild Mission International in Acapulco. This article was originally published in the Fall 2002 StreetChild newsletter.