Friday morning began just like every other day since I’ve been in the Philippines. There’s not much sleeping past 6 (at the latest!)–the sun is shining directly in my eyes and the sounds of life are heard all around me. In Manila, it was the motorcycles long since in need of a tune up. Here in Mindanao, it’s the roosters beginning their day that cause me to begin mine.
But on Friday, we knew we’d be pouring the stairs for the new Children’s Home. Here in the Philippines, you pour out the mixed concrete (no mixing by hand!), shovel it into buckets and swing them down a bucket line to be poured at the end. The trick is to use the momentum from the swing to keep the buckets moving. However, passing them up stairs makes that a little more difficult. I was afraid my incredible strength would make others on our team feel bad, but fortunately, that didn’t happen. At the beginning, you could see everyone attempting to protect their clothing and skin from the concrete. Quickly wiping it away when a bucket would brush (and by brush, I mean slam) up against us. It’s only natural, after all, we don’t exactly have an unlimited wardrobe. But you quickly realize that there’s no keeping clean when working with cement and just embrace the messiness. We worked hard, and as we worked, I was struck by the the power in pouring our prayers into the very structure of the building. Of inviting the Spirit into this building that will be home to so many forgotten children. Children forgotten by the world, but never forgotten by their Heavenly Father.
…….
And then, just when our arms were getting tired and our backs began to ache, our little multi-cab (small bus) pulled up with all the kids from the Children’s Home. They had the day off of school and came to help. We heard their shouts and laughter long before they made it out of the bus. “Ate Kelly! Ate Jill! Ate Helen!” They couldn’t have been more excited to come help us. So we took a break to love on them and as we did, I saw something amazing. Oneil (6) and Joshua (3) ran right towards the slab where we’d been mixing the cement. They got right down on their hands and knees, playing in the concrete leftovers like sand at the beach and they couldn’t have been happier. Squeals of delight rose up all over the site. And there was something beautiful about their childlike simplicity and delight. But I also couldn’t help but feel a little sadness at the same time. That they have so little and don’t know any reason to not be content in the cement. And I remembered a quote from C.S. Lewis,
When infinite joy is offered us, [we are]
like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in the slums because
he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are
far too easily pleased.
like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in the slums because
he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are
far too easily pleased.
And I prayed that these children would continue to be content with a little or a lot, in plenty or in want…but also that they would know the infinite joy their Heavenly Father offers them and that they would live as the princes and princesses they are in God’s great Kingdom. Amen.
