Monday we hopped in the back of the pick up truck (last month is to tuk tuks as this month is to Nissan’s) and headed the 15ish minutes to Pontanal for the kids feeding program. Let’s call Pontanal a suburb of Granada. Though it’s not technically a village, that’s what I think best describes this place. Poverty lines the road in the form of concrete slabs for homes. And bare bone dogs roam through the trash everywhere. It’s hard to see.
There are a lot of ministries we are dippin our toes in this month – so I haven’t really had time to focus on what lies ahead. That being said, we pulled up to a little building that had kids sitting at tables and it dawned on me that we were gonna get to interact with sweet babes. Before we fed them, we had time to play and help them with their reading. I am my mother’s daughter because I love children’s books so I was right in my element! …even though the books were in Spanish. And I got a real low score in class the other day (yes, we are taking Spanish lessons) because I can’t recall anything from high school. So, I had absolutely no idea if they were pronouncing the words correctly. Let’s just say thank the Heavens for picture books.
I volunteered to ladle drinks. So when it was time for food, these babies lined up, most of them clutching their own cup and bowl. These cups weren’t pretty. Some of them weren’t clean. But it’s all they had. Their bowls were cracked. One little guy used a Country Crock butter bucket. For the ones that didn’t have bowls and cups, the feeding program provided them. At first when I had to hand a little guy a pink cup, I felt bad for not grabbing him a blue one. But y’all, he didn’t look at the color. He just wanted a drink. How different our mindsets are.
Monday was hard for me.
God has placed us where we are at this exact moment for a reason. He knew that I would be at this feeding program Monday and he knew that my heart would hurt. But why would He bring me there long enough to wreck me? I didn’t solve any problems. I couldn’t help with pronouncin words in the book. I couldn’t tell them anything except my name and I like your hair. I didn’t buy them new dishes. I didn’t even wash their plates. So what was my purpose, God?
I feel like my Race is a lot like reading a children’s book in Spanish. By looking at the pictures and the context clues, I can figure out the gist of the story. And sometimes, I can tell exactly what’s goin on. Sometimes I got nothin.
Though I don’t know the exact reasoning for placing me at the feeding program, I can pick out that it made me more appreciative. It solidified my love for children. And y’all know what? That page in my story may never be fully explained. And maybe later on I’ll be able to say “ohhhh!” Whatever the circumstances may be, I pray that I can continue to trust in God and know that even in the hard times, He is with me.
Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.
James 1:2-4
