Stray Dogs

Walking to the train station with our heavy packs we obviously look out of place. We pass by old women, heads covered and eyes downcast. We pass by some men sharing cigarettes and beer, daring us to challenge their way of life. We pass by a couple of street kids, neither one older than ten yet both holding a plastic bag with cans of paint used for huffing.

 

 

Walking on, my heart breaks. By the time we reach the station, I feel like I’m about to fall apart. Everything feels dirty and tainted and hopeless. I cannot wait to board the train. Stray dogs come in and out of my line of vision; I’ve never seen so many in my life. A woman covered in filth, barefoot with one pant leg cut off stumbles by. No one pays any attention. As I quietly rock myself back and forth praying for the train to come, a single tear slides down my cheek. Where is God in all of this?

 

While everyone else is in McDonald’s eating dinner, I sit waiting outside with our backpacks and a few of the girls. I can literally feel the pain and oppression of this city and it hurts. I wonder how I will make it through the next ten months as we continue to encounter dark and hopeless places. Sometimes I get frustrated at how sensitive I am; it’s just not in my nature to walk by someone in need and not feel anything for them. My team jokes about how often I have cried already on this trip, and I know there will be many more tears shed. I don’t mind the tears, I’ve always been emotional, it’s the pain that seems unbearable at times.   I can only imagine the heartache God feels for the whole world…