Throughout this month, I’ve seen and experienced a lot of things. And the thing that keeps blowing my mind is that this is real life. I haven’t entered some crazy documentary. I’m not reading a book. I’m not going to wake up from a dream. When we leave Nepal, these people’s lives are going to continue on in the way that they’ve welcomed us into.
Sure, it’s different from America. The past few days I’ve gone into the slums, which are “temporary” houses for people. Basically, they’re homeless, but all together in their homelessness. Their walls are banner advertisements. Their roofs are straw, or if they’re lucky, sheet metal. Their source of water is a polluted river. Chickens and cows and dogs run rampant, along with children. Clotheslines cross lots like trip wires. It sounds so hopeless, and for many people it is.
But then there’s people like Uncle and his wife. Uncle is the only believer in his slum community. But his smile, empty of so many teeth, is full of such joy. We got to pray with him yesterday, pray for healing; pray for community; pray for joy to continue to overflow out of him. We went back today, and we got to visit with his family and help him move dirt from one place to another. Uncle and his wife opened up their home, their home that flooded with every rain, their home that looked like it would fall down if you spoke directly at it, their home that they shared with their daughter and grandchildren. And they served us. They served us the most delicious, sweet, magical tea I’ve ever had in my life. And they laughed with us. And they laughed at us. They let us play with their grandchildren. They let us be loud Americans; asking questions shamelessly, but they also let us serve them.
This morning, we went to a different slum. Agape Ministry runs a school in this slum for children. Many of the parents are important Hindu religious men, who don’t have the time or money to send their children to school. So they asked Agape to open this school, to educate their children. Which means for an hour each day, they get to hear about how much Jesus loves them. For one hour each day, they get to feel loved, they get to feel heard, they get to feel important. The children are filled with such enthusiasm and life. They’re filled with such a desire to learn. And they’re filled with resilience. To keep the joy of childhood in a situation that seems so impossible to survive from American standards. To keep the joy of childhood when they’re expected to be out collecting trash all day. To keep the joy of childhood at all. They themselves are a testament to God’s grace and provision. Pray for them. Pray that the stories they hear and the love that they feel would enter their hearts. That they would grow to know and love Jesus the same way that they are loved by Him.
In less than a week, we are leaving Nepal. And you know what? Their lives probably aren’t going to change that much because I met them. They’re still going to live in the slums. They’re still going to be collecting trash; living in trash. But they let me enter into their reality. They opened up, unashamed of their situation. I know now, and I’m responsible now. And now you know. Sure, you didn’t spend time laughing with Uncle, or get jumped on countless times by the schoolchildren, but you now hold their stories. Their story is a part of your story. Pray for them. Pray for them often.
Their reality may not change because of me, but my reality will forever be different because of them.
