So the World Race has begun for all my squadmates and I. Through the tunnel of more training days, countless hours of sitting on a plane, waiting in airports, and one final bus ride, we’ve made it to the other side. Let me just say that it was worth it. I’ve witnessed in my heart a subtle and yet undeniable sense of belonging, as if I was home. I’m where I’m supposed to be. You can’t just give someone that, it has to be received.
So, for this month we’ve taken up residence in the guest house of a children’s ministry. To be honest, the accommodations are more than we expected. We actually have beds, showers and get to eat 3 times a day. It’s the little things. I’ve consider how this might be the grace of God on our behalf. It might be a little jarring going from a hotel at pre-Launch training to sleeping on the ground with no running water, or WiFi to maintain contact.
For this month of the Race, my entire squad consisting of over 45 people will be sticking together for the duration of the month. The ministries that we’ve participated in thus far include: working the mission’s library for children by helping them read, venturing out into the villages to assist with feeding children (one of my favs), and organizing the mission’s donations. For today, we’ll be working a Vacation Bible School (VBS) doing devotionals, games and leading worship.
It may be literarily inappropriate, but I rather share now than in a separate blog my experiences feeding children. I’m going to ask you to take a moment to imagine a small village with houses held together by cement, corrugated metal and rotting wood. Our path was ground patched with unkept grass and soggy mud. Our presence made known as we setup our station at one of the first houses. Little children with cups and bowls or whatever container they could find appeared from around houses and bends as several of us shouted “Feeding!” continuously as we ventured deeper into the village and further from the feeding station.
I didn’t feel pity or sorrow for these children, because they didn’t express it for themselves. Even in poverty, they smiled gratefully for the warm meal and the company of adults that would share their names and much to their amusement, numerous ‘Hi-fives’. I didn’t walk away when all the food had run out feeling guilty for having more than they did or that I had accomplished some great ministry deed. Rather, I was thankful for this small opportunity to serve these small children who did more for me than I could ever do for them.
