I forgot to ask her name, but she was beautiful. Her dark face laden with wispy brown curls, naked doll clasped firmly in her arms. She looked at me with wide eyes, eyes that already knew of things I still have yet to learn. As I played with her hair, she stood still, watching the rest of my team pour water for her and her family that was not filled with parasites and bacteria. The piles of garbage that were as tall as mountains were our backdrop. Obviously the smell was not pleasant, but I kind of got used to it the longer I was there. 
My goal was to make her smile. I sang to her in english, knowing full well that she had no idea what I was saying. I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t speak spanish, she doesn’t speak english, but it didn’t matter. I wanted to tell her how much Jesus loved her, how much I loved her. I wanted to explain to her that she was free, that she didn’t have to live like she was the least, even if that is how the world saw her. I asked God for the devine knowledge of spanish so I could tell her that she was the most beautiful princess in all the land. 
But I couldn’t. All I could do was play with her hair and sing over her. 
I was torn because a part of me felt guilty that I was not helping to put the water into the jugs, but another part told me that I was doing exactly what Jesus would have done. I tried to talk to the other kids as they ran around, excited and a little scared of the gringos, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. 
As we piled back into the truck and clung on for dear life as we flew down the highway at what I’m sure was a very unsafe speed, I tried hard to stop the tears. I couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between my life and her’s. I have a house in a nice neighborhood with a kitchen stocked full of more food than I know what to do with, I have an insanely comfortable bed, hot water (or any water for that matter) at my disposal. I have more money in my bank account than she can probably fathom. She has probably been in the same clothes for days, though not by choice. She needs missionaries from North America and Ireland to bring her clean drinking water.
Earlier in the day, I was reading from Matthew 19, the story of the rich young man. In verse 23 Jesus says it is impossible for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, and I realized in that moment that I am considered rich to over half of this world. I am a rich young person. And it is impossible for me to get into the Kingdom of Heaven while I am rich.  I decided in that moment that I don’t want to be rich. I would rather have eternal life while living on the street than to have money and nothing else. 
I prayed that God would always keep me in a state of need. I don’t ever want to have enough money to make me think I can do it on my own. I don’t ever want to make money my God, and risk being turned away from when I am face down at the throne on Judgement Day. 
I don’t know if I will see that precious little girl again next week when we bring more water, but even if I do, there are no words in english or spanish that I could use to tell her how much she awakened my heart to the reason I am here.