Being in any city has its sorrow and joy; but being in a third world country city seems to have a different dynamic. Here is some of what I have been seeing and feeling. Though humbled and thankful that God gives us eyes to see, what he needs us to see, I am also weighed down. The people of the Philippines are truely amazing, but so many need our prayers and our help….don’t give them pity for they have weathered well. Give them truth, love,……give them your time and prayers.
Their soiled hands are clasped
Their soiled hands are clasped
weeks of dirt making their
dark skin darker.
With bones protruding,
they move down the street
on worn out feet, broken sandals.
A plastic bag slung over his shoulder
full of empty plastic bottles
income for the day.
Broken souls, broken stories,
where they have been
is distant, the path rugged.
Their life, now, is survival:
food, water, strength, a place
to lay their weary heads.
She sits cross-legged
outside a bakery, a gypsy
reaching out her slender arm.
Her child runs around
pantless, diaperless, wide-eyed
collapsing in exhaustion.
The women holds the
plastic Nestea cup, waiting for
a blessing, hope, a redeemer.
The sound of the change
I throw in, echoes as it falls
to the cups empty bottom.
Her pleading eyes weigh
Her pleading eyes weigh
on my soul, as I walk away,
nagging me like a bindweed.
I run back frantic, angry at what
I didn’t give her…..everything.
Mother and child are gone.
Two days later, a tap from behind
desperate brown eyes
pierce my heart, my soul.
She clings to her child……...
My mind swirls
an anchor on my heart
I’m grasping for clarity.
Walking skeletons, blind beggers, 
children desperate to sell
you a bag of peanuts.
Hotels for older white men
supplied with younger girls
Human Markets, wicked games.
Relief in Christ
is all we have, as we
learn to guard our hearts
from anger, bitterness,
judgement, sorrow,
and darkness.
We stare evil in the face
across the game of life
holding swords of Truth,
shields of Love,
and armor of Faith.
and armor of Faith.
