Photo Credit: Eva Cranford
[continued from previous post]
So there we were walking the streets of Nepal with Amy barefooted, holding hands and praying out loud through the chaos of the earthquake aftermath looking for someone to help us since we got locked out of our house. We walked to another contact’s house and they so graciously allowed us to stay with them and their families for the next few days while we waited for the rest of the squad to return from the village. In those few days, the Lord showed me in such an intimate way of what these people were going through day by day and it broke my heart.
Often we see these horrific pictures of rubble on the news with headlines screaming about destruction and hunger which holds our attention because this level of destruction doesn’t even seem possible from our comfortable living rooms. There is a lot of places in Nepal that look exactly like those images and I cannot even imagine the pain that those people are feeling, but the Lord allowed me to see a very different side of the pain of Nepal.
Some places are untouched by the physical damage of the earthquakes and their family members are all safe. We don’t see stories about these people because on the outside they look okay; no injuries, their homes and families intact, camping out in a relatively safe place for the remainder of the aftershocks. That’s how I felt when I came to Nepal- my eyes were hungry for the damaged areas, I so badly wanted to go to the worst of the worst to minister there and bring back hope and life, and I overlooked the thousands right in front of my face who were just as needy.
Empathy means feeling what someone else feels and is a pretty important skill to have if your goal is to love people well. In the past I have felt it from the outside; cried with those I love, been caught up in their joy as they celebrate, or understood their outrage against things that just weren’t right. Understanding what someone is going through rather than just feeling bad for them is powerful- it’s like that old adage of ‘walking a mile in someone else’s shoes’ that shows you how to give that person grace.
After the first earthquake, Amy and I spent the day sitting on sandbags in a small clearing full of sand piles, construction debris and weeds so that if any of the buildings collapsed we would hopefully be far enough away from them to be safe. We were with at least 4 different families and other people from the community surrounding us- there was everyone from grandparents to toddlers finding refuge there. Suddenly, before I had any idea what was happening, the people around us were yelling and screaming at the sky while scooping up their children and running about two feet over and staring at a precarious looking building across the lot with obvious fear. I was confused and frightened! And then I felt it- it was an aftershock, a big one, and so I just sat there and waited it out while my heart pounded.
Why would they run when there was nowhere to go? When they told us the area we were sitting in was the safest spot around? When they told us to keep a good head on our shoulders and to not panic because that would be the thing that really hurt us? None of it made any sense to me.
The Nepalese really did adopt us into their family for those few days though and it was so selfless and beautiful! Meals were community style cooked on a gas burner outside and tarps were strung between trees and corners of buildings to provide some shelter. Everyone sat together under the tarps escaping the sun and ate together- there was laughter, there was banter, and there was children running around and sitting in many laps. It was a community, a family brought together in the midst of disaster and fear and brought such an odd sense of comfort and normalcy. Everyone was welcome, everyone was well cared for, and everyone chipped in to help others who were in need. It humbled me that these people going through this unbelievably difficult time provided me with so much love, hospitality, and selflessly served me when it is they who were hurting so badly.
And so I watched and I experienced. I ate the spicy noodles and I slept under just a tarp with a strange woman spooning me. I learned how they wash dishes outside and I dipped biscuits in tea. I watched as they burned egg cartons late at night because they would smoke the mosquitos away (supposedly) and I listened as the babies cried all through the night. I listened to the conversations mostly in a foreign language and I learned names of those around me. I tried to entertain a group of restless children in a really small area as their moms ran to the store for lunch supplies and got tired of swatting flies and mosquitos from my legs. I prayed with them, I got the best back rub ever from Mama Ruth and I sat through the aftershocks uncomfortably trying to choke back the fear that rose in my throat each time.
Through each of these simple experiences I began to understand
these people. I began to feel the terror they felt when they watched the crows fly out of the trees squawking because I learned that it was the first sign of another earthquake or aftershock. I feared for the tiny children around us; I got nervous when they wandered even a little and felt the weight of responsibility for their lives as we watched them. I felt more exhausted than I ever have- my body and mind could never relax as the adrenaline was constantly running through my veins. My muscles ached, my head hurt, and my heart would not stop pounding at any little noise or movement. I looked at the lines on the adult’s faces between their eyebrows, their eyes filled with worry and determination.
All I could think is that this is no way to live.
Please, don’t be hungry for more images of damage and death tolls- those are real people with real families and worries. I know the stories are interesting because they are so different and far removed from your life right now and something inside each of us is entertained by it. Instead, pray for the people and try and understand what they are going through because that will make your prayers that much deeper. The Nepali people will not stop suffering from the trauma they have been through recently any time soon, not even when the streets are cleared or new buildings are erected and the news moves on.
Sure, I experienced something tough and lived in community with these people that allowed me to see Nepal in a whole new light, but what keeps me awake at night is that I just walk away from it all at the end of the day. That’s not my country, that’s not my culture, that’s not my home, my street, my house, my family, my children. I don’t really belong there and there is no way that I will ever understand what they are going through fully. I packed up my bag and climbed onto another plane and left all of it behind me likely forever, but these people don’t get to do that. Their pasts and futures are all contained in country that is being torn apart- there was over 100 earthquakes in the time of one month. That is unimaginable!
So here I am on my laptop in Malaysia lounging on a couch and waiting for today’s ministry to start. As I look back on the month of Nepal and all that happened I am overwhelmed with gratitude. I know that doesn’t make sense even a little bit, but God allowed me to experience something special and showed me His children and their struggles in such an intimate way. He brought me to a point of helplessness where I had to fully depend on Him and trust that He is in control. This month a wall I had erected in my heart was reduced to shambles and I discovered and felt for the first time the Father’s unimaginable love for His children. I guess sometimes it takes the ground shaking beneath us to remind us that we are really never in control or safe and that each day you live and each person you meet is a precious gift.
Most of all, God taught me that He makes beautiful things out of the dust.
Photo Credit: Eva Cranford
