I know I wrote in my previous blog that my next post would talk about my team, but I felt that I needed to share with y’all about what happened yesterday:
Yesterday morning we went to Cigual, a community about an hour from Padre Las Casas, to spend time with kids and to hold an evening church service. What exactly transpired, though, was not what I expected. When we got to the church and opened the doors, women and children by the handfuls started pouring in. Our translator and two of our guys left to invite people in the town to come to the service that was going to be held later in the evening. That left me and four of my teammates in charge…with no translators. I felt like the most boring American ever. We don’t speak much Spanish…at least not enough to communicate some sort of game or song, and they don’t speak any English. We managed to play two games with them – Rojo y Verde (Red light, Green light), and Pollo y Vaca (Chicken and Cow – our version of duck duck goose). After that, though, it was chaos. The women were able to put a game together, but even then it was loud and chaotic. How I so desperately wanted to talk and play with the kids, but my efforts were almost futile, due to the language barrier. The thing that bothered me the most about yesterday, however, was what I wrote in my journal:
My heart is hurting. I thought I knew what poverty was. I thought I knew what it meant to be hungry or thirsty.
I was wrong.
I feel sick to my stomach – not because of the food I am eating, but because there are little kids watching me and my teammates eat in front of them. I feel sick because tons of kids saw our water bottles and asked to have some “agua” – water. I denied several children my water for sanitary reasons, but for some reason that excuse just doesn’t seem enough.
A little boy around the age of two kept following me around, reaching up for me to hold him. I wish I weren’t so hesitant at first because of the smell or that his bare bottom was popping out of this pants.
Lord, it’s times like these when I wish I were back home where I’m comfortable, well-fed, and healthy.
Lord, I almost want to turn a blind eye just because this makes me uncomfortable and causes me pain.
How selfish of me?
Father, please forgive me. Bring me through the fire – no matter how little it may hurt me in comparison to their pain, I know it must be done. Remind me why I’m here:
To serve You; to serve Your people.
No matter how crazy, chaotic, or uncomfortable it may be.
Thank you for loving me and being patient with me, Abba, in spite of my selfishness and hesitancy. Help me become more like you to these people. Amen.
