Okay picture this.
Kathmandu, Nepal.
Beautiful mountains
Surrounding a city
A world within a city
Ministry on a not-so-average Monday
Our first day of ministry in Nepal.
Ready and amped
To go out
Share the love of Jesus.
We arrive at a home
Full of the forgotten.
Women
Once beggars.
Once “unworthy”
Unable to support their families,
Let alone themselves
These women are hurting.
How can I show them
Show the love of the Father.
I walk over and sit
And I pray.
For healing
Physical.
Spiritual.
Emotional.
One woman stands out
I go to her
She looks up at me
She has a story in those eyes.
And I long to know it.
Next
I choose to simply grab her hands
Her beautiful, delicate hands.
In mine.
We embrace one another’s hands and
I start to pray
For her to know our Father
To feel His overwhelming
His ABOUNDING love.
So rich in love.
Tears well up in my eyes.
She doesn’t know her Father.
Yet.
She is Hindu
I yearn for her to know our creator.
To know that she is so deeply wanted
Sought out.
That she is never, ever forgotten.
I point to my camera.
Ask in hand gestures
Can I take a photo
I feel her emotions in that moment.
The longing to feel more
To feel loved and cherished.
She has so much more to her story.
I wish to know it all.
Those eyes.
There’s more.
But I am okay with simply holding her
Fragile hands.
It is enough.
She will not be forgotten
By me
But most importantly
By our Father.
