Words matter.
As a teacher, I tried to avoid referring to “my students.” They didn’t belong to me, and claiming them as mine seemed sort of presumptuous. We played different roles, but I tried to view the classroom as a community in which the students and I worked together toward a common goal.
“My students” sounded a bit kingly.
But it feels different when I refer to the kids at the Home of Hope. We’ve partnered with them for more than 12 years, watched them grow from little munchkins until a few of them graduated and entered college. We feel a little bit like distant adopted aunts and uncles.
I refer to them as “our kids” because there’s a sense of kinship. It’s intended as a term of endearment, an indication of the special place they occupy in our hearts.
The kids at the Home of Hope don’t “belong” to us, or to anyone else. They were rescued from slavery in the brothels to live lives of freedom.
Like you and me, they are God’s kids.