You should probably go back and read part 1 before reading this blog. If you don't…well, then, you might be a little confused.
So I began to feel refreshed and actually excited about going back to Southville for ministry. I missed the kids and the community, which definitely wasn't the case when we were living there over the last week.
We got up that morning and got ready for the 7 AM service at the bigger church. The service was really good, and we learned that later that afternoon, we would be helping with a feeding program in Southville.
All afternoon, we could smell the food being cooked, and it smelled delicious. When it was ready, we loaded up the huge pot of soup, and headed back to Southville.
When we got there, the kids were so excited to see us, and crowded around us, holding our hands, and asking for the millionth time, "What's your name?" Because many of them don't go to school, they know very minimal English.
The kids ran to get their dishes, and formed a line outside of the church. They were all excited and ready to eat.
As I spooned out the soup, I noticed that they all had different sizes and shapes of dishes. I spooned in two scoops, and told them to be careful because it was very hot. I was really enjoying it, and it was cool to see the kids wait for their turn, solemly take their bowl back, and then be excited as they ran off to eat it. It was cool to see a tangible way that I was helping to serve the community, and making it a little better, even if it was simply a smile and a full belly.
Then, it was his turn. He wasn't a super skinny kid, didn't have a distended belly from worms, and had a pretty clean shirt on.
What caught me by surprise what what he held in his hands. While the other kids held plastic bowls or cups, he held a tiny dutch oven pot with a spoon inside.
One just like my Mom had when I was younger, except in a much smaller form.
And that's when it all became clear. Like I had been looking through a lens that was focused on my image in a mirror, but what was behind me was out of focus. And I just shifted the focus from me to the little boy with the soup pot standing next to me.
And then, the kids didn't seem like a huge mass that was trying to take over our lives and our time. They became kids to me. Individual kids. Kids that are so desperate for attention and love, not because we are novelties as Americans, but because they truly desire to be known and loved.
We didn't say anything to each other. I just filled up his pot with two scoops, and handed it back to him. I don't know his name, but after we got back and I was looking through my pictures, I saw that Brittany captured the moment on my camera.
And yes, the human side of me is slightly not looking forward to moving back next week to a smaller space and fewer fans, but I am excited. I'm excited to invest (fully) in the community and the people, and to love them with the Unending Love that I have been given, because even when I am at the end of myself, that Well never runs dry.
