This month we have been working with an organization called Vision Nicaragua which helps the community in many ways. We are helping to build a kitchen building for a woman named Conni that I just LOVE to pieces. I’m learning sooo much about concrete, cement , and how to build walls. I may even be able to build a house one day! We also help with gardening on the property. We have beds, wifi, and good (gluten-fee) food is cooked for us by two lovely women!
One morning I decided to help with gardening around the property. Liz and I then found out that we would be loading all the trash from two huge piles into the back of the truck. After getting quite dirty, we headed to the local dump. I saw two large city dumps last month, so i figured I would be prepared for this smaller one and even prayed on the way there that I would not be unphased by it.
My first exposure to people living off trash was in India when we would see women and children dig through the field of trash across from our ministry site, throwing plastic bottles into rucksacks over their shoulders. The dump in Honduras was huge, like a business and we went with a group that goes there often to feed the people that work there. In Guatemala we went to the neighborhood next to the dump and saw houses built of tin and cement blocks. The organization we partnered with called these people treasures. I love that perspective, shifting the organization’s mindset and that of those who scavenge, that they are not scavengers but seen as treasures in the eyes of the Lord.
When we turned off the main road we could see the dump in the distance, surrounded by fields, at the foot of a beautiful volcano. Liz commented about how ‘poverty is often found amidst breath-taking beauty’ and I agreed. When we turned into the dump we saw a few houses on the outskirts and people standing by them. I use the word houses very loosely for they were shacks held up by wooden beams chopped from trees and siding made of cardboard boxes.
I thought I had seen people living and working in the dumps before, but I had never experienced their houses being so close to garbage. A middle aged woman and two men began pulling our trash out of the truck with tools they had made out of wood. When they found plastic or metal they threw it to the side to collect later. Once the truckbed was empty I went around to shake each of their hands and say ‘gracias.’ As I held their dirty hands firmly, not one of them looked me in the eyes, their low self-worth so evident.
As they walked back to their shack homes with their ‘treasures’ in hand, I began to break down. What makes me so special that I was born in America with parents that gave me everything I’ve needed? That I’ve had the opportunity to get a college degree. That I have had the opportunity to travel the world Why me, while I’m sure the children running around will most likely end up like their parents.
On the way home I heard God’s whisper again “What are you going to do about it?” just like I did last month in Honduras. As I quietly sniffled with tears running down my cheeks, I heard God say “See, you are compassionate. You care about what I care about.” Then I remembered how before the race I saw compassion to be not one of my strong suits.
At Parent Vision Week in Guatemala one of the moms, who admitted to stalking my photos throughout the race, mentioned that my eyes have changed over the past few months. “They look more like Jesus” she said, and I’d like to agree. I feel different and feel emotions differently.
Thank you Lord for beginning to break my heart for what breaks yours and for allowing me the opportunity to step in and do something.
