Break my heart for what breaks yours.
It’s the lyrics in one of my favourite songs, and it’s been
my prayer for this year. I don’t want to travel the world and see only the
good, touristy parts. I want to see the reality. I want to see the broken
hearted, the sick, the lonely. I want to see the injustice. I know it will be
hard, but I know that it is something that I have to see. That I have to be
aware of.
My prayer was answered yet again this week, and my heart is
broken for the sick in this country.
Emily has made friends with one of the girls in the bar this
month. Mae is Burmese and has an amazing story. (I will be blogging about parts
of it soon, but check out emilytuttle.theworldrace.org for the entire story!).
One of the saddest parts of Mae’s story is that she is sick with HIV. A couple
of months ago she fell quite ill and stayed in a house that is for sick women
and children who live in Thailand, but are from Burma. Since she has been
feeling better she has been visiting the house whenever she can. This week, she
took us along with her. It was a fairly small group, maybe about 15 people. And all
of them were either sick, or were with their children who were sick.
It was one of the most heartbreaking places I’ve been to. I’ve
never been in a place of that much sickness, outside of a hospital. These women
and children were here for medical care, yet it was just a house. The woman
running it was doing what she could, but there was so much sickness.
There was a child that was less than a year old. He was so
adorable. But he had a lump on his neck. We think it was a tumor of some sort (we were not allowed to ask questions), but it was half again the size
of the poor guy’s head.
There were women who were blind, women with HIV or AIDS,
women with breast cancer. All of them were Burmese. They came to Thailand for
medical care – because this house was better than anything available at home.
Emily, Tiffany, Kayla and I went with Mae to this house.
They gathered everyone together in a circle and introduced us. Then came the
standard World Race situation – the dreaded question of “so, what do you want
to do? What do you have planned?” This happens several times a month – we go
for a visit somewhere knowing nothing about it, but are expected to have things
planned when we arrive. So, we go for our old standby – inviting the kids to
learn the “Hokey Pokey”.
Not a single child joined in.
So after we finished dancing around like fools, we sat down
and just simply asked if they had any questions about the USA or Canada that we
could answer. After talking for a while and answering questions about the
education systems, we were given the opportunity to pray over them all.
I don’t think many of them were Christian, but they were
touched by us even wanting to pray for them. But there was one woman who caught
my eye.
She was here with breast cancer. It was blatantly obvious
that it was very far advanced. In fact, one side of her chest was about five
times as large as the other side. She spoke perfect English so we were able to
learn that she had been a teacher in Burma and was a Christian. One of only
four Christians I have met this month. And I think she was the reason we were
there.
We prayed for her, and I was convinced we were going to see
a miracle. She was not healed of breast cancer. But she smiled.
After we prayed we sang a couple of songs. We sang “Healer”,
“Jesus Loves Me”, and a couple of others. Then it was time to leave. We were
there for about 2 hours, but it passed in a flash.
I think we were there for a couple of reasons. I think we
were there for the woman with breast cancer – for her encouragement. She is the
only Christian in the house, and I do not think she is able to get to church
very often. I think we were there to encourage her that God is still watching
out for her. He will send foreigners to encourage her.
But we were also there for us. I was there to have my eyes
opened. I was there to see these women and children through God’s eyes. I was
there to have my heart broken. I was there to have my passion to fight for
those who cannot fight for themselves reawakened.
I leave Thailand this week and will not be able to return to
this house. I am not educated in Burmese/Thai immigration policies. I am not a
doctor. I cannot help these women. But I can, and will, pray.
This month I prayed that God would give me His eyes this
month. And he has. I prayed that he would break my heart for what breaks His.
And he has.
I see the women in the bars desperately trying to convince a
man to purchase her so she can eat tomorrow. And I just want to tell them about
the Bread of Life.
I see the men looking for love, thinking they can buy it
here. And I just want to explain to them that they’re looking in the wrong
places.
I see these sick women and children who do not know where to
go for healing. And I just want them to embrace the Great Physician.
I see the children in the slums and I want to just simply
tell them that Jesus loves you.
My heart is broken this month, and as much as it hurts, I am
glad to see Thailand with God’s eyes.
