Yesterday, we went to the beach with Pastor Rony, his family & friends! It was just the type of day we needed to unwind. The ride there was exactly what you’d expect out of the World Race: four people inside the cab of a small truck, and the other 10 of us riding in the bed. Saying that we were squished is an understatement, but I loved it.
Our day at the beach was us laughing, swimming, swallowing a lot of salt water, getting sand in all the wrong places, playing soccer, hammocking, taking a bazillion photos and getting burned pretty badly. Sunscreen was a great afterthought that we will definitely use next time haha
Another part of the day that ran through my mind the rest of the evening were the people walking up and down the beach attempting to sell us their produce, jewelry, games.. you get the idea. A lot of those people were kids. Kids that should be in elementary school learning basic science, kids that should be in middle school playing volleyball during gym class, kids that should be entering high school and getting a chance to read the Great Gatsby.. Kids that shouldn’t be selling things to strangers in order to survive at the ages of 9, 12, or 15.
Two kids that tried selling to me finally told me their names (after I bothered them for a couple minutes), and I don’t know if they were being honest about them. Alejandro and Orlando. 10 and 12 years old.
What were you doing at 10 years old? Or at 12?
I was busy playing a computer game or watching That’s So Raven after finishing my homework. I was in school learning about things I didn’t care about, like math and science. I was reading two or three books a week for fun. I was playing with my dogs and fighting with my little brother and getting loved on my family. I was going to summer camps and youth conferences with my church. I was going to Disney World and Cedar Point. I was hanging out with my best friends, watching Hannah Montana and eating pizza and ice-cream until midnight. I was camping on holidays in the summer and getting presents at Christmas. I was figuring out the style of clothes I liked best, arguing with my mom about why I should be allowed to get highlights, and making blanket forts to watch movies. I was in the very midst of figuring who I was and what value I had in this world full of people.
These kids are doing that same thing. They are in the midst of figuring out who they are and what value they have, and every day they are waking up to walk back & forth on a beach, selling whatever they can. They are daily waking up to two realities within that job.
1. People ignore them and act as if they don’t exist, because it’s easier to do that than continuously say no and hold a conversation.
2. They get shooed away.
Both realities are telling these sweet boys that they don’t matter and aren’t seen, & that they are completely unwanted and bothersome.
The entirety of that day was spent in a paradox. My mind was at war with my heart. I was in love with the beach day and at the same time, I hated what was in front of me. I was ecstatic to spend time with our team & friends, and I was breaking into pieces for these boys. I was catapulting between joy and grief. I wanted to scoop up these skinny, tough kids in my arms and carry them somewhere that would equal safety. I wanted to hold them and tell them just how beautiful God thought they were and how valuable they are.
And I couldn’t.
What was I supposed to do? Ride back home and forget I ever saw them?
No.
I was meant to ask them their name and look them in the eyes. To ask how old they were. To laugh with them and simply be in that present moment with them. It was exactly what I was supposed to do and it didn’t feel like enough. It felt painful and small and worthless compared to what I t h o u g h t they needed.
That’s exactly where God comes in. HE alone knows what they need and regardless of their circumstance, He is fully aware of them & holding them so delicately in His hands!
And I would love to say that on the way home that night, I realized this and my heart was at peace again. But it wasn’t.
I know these truths, and somehow I’m still wrestling with the grief of not feeling like I did enough. The feeling of being helpless and worried about those kids and wishing that I could communicate just how valuable and seen they are. It sucks and I’m wrestling with God about how to do this well and not set the responsibility of being a savior on my shoulders, because EVERYTHING in me wants to save those kids and I simply can’t.
I see this vision for the rest of my Race, and it has a lot to do with allowing myself to grieve for those kids and all the ones I’ll meet. It’s allowing myself to feel the weight that I am unable to save anyone, and my sole ability in this is being Jesus to them. Serving them, loving them, encouraging them, and talking to them. They are seen when I take the time to invest in them. If that is all I can give, then I pray that every single day of this next eleven months is full of grief and full of hope.
I’m being undone.
It’s always been easy for me to push my grief, my frustrations, or my pain under a rug until it got big enough to require a clean up. God is calling me to deal with it as it comes; to hold it gently and allow myself to feel it fully, to grieve in His lap for His children and to also cling to the knowledge and the hope that He can do more than I ever could.
One of my favorite songs says, “When we would fall apart, You came running with open arms.” I am so in love with how God holds me in my pain, and how I can safely fall apart in His hands. I’m learning to let it happen.
