There’s a sweet old woman down the street that has stolen many of our hearts.
She looks to be about a hundred years old, and every day she sits outside on her porch, watching us walk back and forth, back and forth. She waves at us and smiles, and even though we can’t converse in words, there is something so sweet about our interactions.
On one of our first days in Ville Tecii, my teammate Abby felt compelled to go and sit with sweet Annika. As I passed them by that day, my heart melted at the sight. I am convinced that even though there were no words spoken between the two, this woman felt the love of Jesus pouring out of Abby’s heart. She felt his touch.
Some time later, I discovered that Annika lives alone, and her daugher comes to take care of her every day. There are no such things as retirement homes here. Families take care of one another until their death. The only problem is that in the odd twist of how life goes, the daughter Stella is the one on her death bed rather than Annika. She has tumors growing inside of her stomach that are so big she looks pregnant. I’ve never seen anything like it.
Stella knows her physical body is dying, but there is little she can do other than enjoy her last moments. I have not asked her this, but I am sure she is more concerned with her mother’s well-being rather than her own. The next-of-kin in line to take care of Annika is her great-grandson, a boy of only twelve years. That’s a rather large responsibility for such a young boy, a child in all reality!
We went to visit Annika and Stella the other day, and I brought my guitar along. Once again, we weren’t able to converse in words, but music is the great transcender of all language! I played a few songs, and then the Lord said, “Amazing Grace.” As I played this age-old hymn, tears began to stream from sweet Annika’s face. I could see that Stella was in pain, but her face revealed the Father’s joy. I was humbled and touched.
Last week, the team leaders went for a little outing in Bistrita. We spent the day laughing and enjoying ourselves as well as ministering to one another. It was great! On our walk to the grocery store, we passed by a man and his two children sitting on the street corner, a sight I have unfortunately grown accustomed to seeing. We got about five steps away from them when Braedon stopped us and asked, “Should we go pray for them?”
As we knelt down beside this family, they looked surprised that we would stop. They soon discovered that we weren’t there to give them money and looked at us with questioning eyes. However, they welcomed us in. I felt the Father’s pain for their physical and emotional scars and at the same time experienced his deep pools of love for them. The man had a huge gash in his foot, making him unable to walk without a cane. I wish I could say that I saw it healed, but I believe that God is doing the healing work in his body. We prayed for them, and Kelly gave the kids a piece of gum. They smiled and seemed eternally grateful.
We got another hundred yards down the street and passed by another woman and her child on the street. Taking about ten steps forward, we stopped in our tracks, looked at one another and turned around. The woman’s eyes lit up as we sat next to her and loved her through our hugs and smiles. We gave her the only thing of lasting value that we had: the love of Jesus burning inside our hearts.
Unfortunately, I’ve overlooked so many others like them. I wish I could say that on the Race, I have stopped for every person who needed a smile or a hug. I can’t. The thing that touches me is that Jesus never overlooked the hungry. He always stopped for the one that needed to be loved, to be healed, to be touched. And in my quest to become more like him, it is my responsibility to do the same. I am not called to save the world, but I am called to do what I see my Father doing. I am called to stop when He compels me.
And I’m learning.
