Driving down the bumpy dirt road in the 15 passenger van with my team, as we all wonder what the next school will be like. I look in the distance at the most beautiful view of the mountains of Guatemala. One of the active Volcano's has giant rings of smoke coming out of the top as it rests on the horizon. I sit (or more so bounce around) and soak in the thought of how intricate, creative, and beautiful His creation is. I just hear Jesus saying, "I painted this for you." I sit in awe, with a full heart, feeling the love of my father. I pray for Him to prepare my heart, give me His eyes to see these children, and energy so I can be present and love these kids we are about to meet. I figured it would be like the other schools we had been serving breakfast at. We would say hello to the kids, feed them, talk to them (or push out as much broken Spanish as I could until they would just giggle), and of course bust out a fun game of soccer. And we did just that, but this time it was different. For the few hours we were there, Jesus broke my heart.
We indeed have a Father that loves unconditionally, a Father that looks down on His children with a fat smile on His face and is well pleased with each and everyone of us. A Father that is in a much better mood than we could imagine. A Father that loves us with fierce intentionality. A Father that showers grace, peace, and hope into every facet of our life. But we also have a Father that sees us, knows the finest details of our hearts. A father that not only knows your pain, but feels your pain. A father that not only hears yours cries, but is weeping with you. A Father that knows His children are Hungry, that they are hurting, and that they need Him. Jesus did not only give me His eyes to see His perfect beautiful children, but he gave me His heart for them. I stood there frozen at one point, in the soccer game, with my complete attention on the sweet little hands that lined the fence outside the small school. Soon to find out, it is the school kids younger siblings, waiting for the leftovers of broth for lunch. Their sweet little fingers wrapped around the fence, eyes peeking through the gate, patiently waiting. I felt helpless, I felt like nothing I could do would be enough. I didn't have more food to feed them, I couldn't fix their small town so they would have running water. I wouldn't be able to bring their mommy's and daddy's back, I wouldn't be able to give them all shoes, or clean clothes, I wouldn't be able to sit and bathe them all and get the matted tangles out of their hair. I wouldn't be able to build a bigger school so the six different classes were not crammed into 2 different rooms, so they could actually get an education. I wouldn't be able to hold them everyday and tell them how loved they are. My heart was broken, overwhelmed by the fact that I could not help these children more, and there was so much I wanted to do. My heart pounding in my chest, trying to calm myself, I just heard my Father say, " I called you to love my children." I took a deep breath, calmed my fears, wiped my eyes, and walked over to the gate, knelt down, reached my hand through the gate and held their sweet little hands, looked in their eyes and just told them they are so loved, whether they understood me or not. That I could do. I may not be able to give all those kids a life that I think would be best, but in that very moment, I can give them a glimpse of our Fathers love. . . A Father that sees His children, a Father that loves unconditionally, A Father that looks down on His children with a fat smile on His face and is well pleased with each and everyone of them. A Father that is in a much better mood than we could ever imagine. A Father that loves us with fierce intentionality. A Father that showers grace, peace, and hope into every facet of our life. A father that sees His children, knows their hearts, and showers them in a love that knows no bounds. Thank you Father, for breaking my heart for what breaks Yours.
Broken for Your love,
Erica
