“Break my heart for what breaks yours.”
A couple of weeks ago I experienced my first heartbreak of the race. We were out doing door to door ministry in the village that we lived in, getting to know people and hearing their stories. As we got to one house, the door was swung wide open and a voice called for us to come in. When we walked into this house, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust from the harsh contrast of the bright sun outside and the darkness inside of the one room house. As my eyes adjusted, I first saw the woman laying on a thin mattress, talking in a distressed voice to our translator. I then took in the surroundings. The house was muggy with bugs flying around. There was a small area for a fire, a small stack of clothes, a table, and four soot-covered walls. Our translator told us that she has severe arthritis and has been unable to move for four years. She has been laying on that mattress for four years, looking at those same four plain walls. My heart instantly broke seeing the pain on her face as she strained to see our faces. We took some time to get to know her, and she apologized that she had no food to give us, but that she would share her one plate of pop with us. We thanked her and told her we didn’t need anything, we were just there to talk with her and pray for her. In that moment, she showed me the true meaning of generosity. This woman who has next to nothing was willing to share her only plate of food she had with us. I knew in that moment that this simple act had influenced me in a way that I will always remember. The woman with so little belongings showed me how to be truly generous.
A week later, we were returning to the same village. That morning before we left, I sat there and prayed for something I could do to brighten this woman’s day, because she had continuously been on my heart since I met her. The first thing that popped into my head was color. As I thought about it, I realized that there was no color in her house, no brightness. Because we don’t have many possessions on the race, I suggested to my teammates that we color some verses for her to have. When we got her house that day, she was so excited to have our company again. I sat down next to her and handed her the colored verses, as our translator read them to her in her native language. We then sang her some of our songs we had been singing at the local church. As simple as these things may have been, I watched as we sang and she held the pictures, holding back tears. She again offered us what food she had, which showed once again the beautiful, generous heart that she held. Before we left, I held her hand as we prayed over her. My last glimpse of her as I walked out the door was of her hugging the pictures.
