She came out of no where. I didn’t see her coming. I was turning around, heading the other direction, and there she was. Grabbing my arm, looking me in eye, she was begging me for milk. Milk for her sleeping baby in her arms. Skin and bones and a messy face, one look and I knew he needed food
I didn’t know what to say or do. I was stunned. My squadmates were walking away down the street full of lights, music, and tourists. I was being left with the decision myself.
I had to go meet the rest of my squad for a birthday dinner. I had to go right now. They were leaving me and she was begging me. She needed food and a shower. I couldn’t say no. I grabbed my purse, reaching for my wallet, hoping the fifteen dollars I had would make her go away.
“No money. Milk. No money. Milk.”
I couldn’t say no.
I called after two of my squadmates and the four us walked to the mini mart to buy her milk.
Twenty-five dollars. That’s how much a decent size can of baby formula is. I set the can on the counter, pulled out my debit card.
In the recent months I have had a difficult time wrapping my mind around all the brokenness I’ve seen in the last seven months. Usually I am numb to the beggars on the street. I can walk past them without blinking an eye. Not today. Not with her grabbing me. Looking me in the eye. Begging me for milk.
Earlier that day, I had asked The Lord how I could love him today. I had been struggling and doubting God a lot since Thailand for no reason other than the fact I was mad. So I asked, “God, will you show me how I can love you today?”
I set the can on the counter, pulled out my debit card, signed the receipt, and said goodbye to the woman and her baby.
“This is how you loved me today“, he whispered to me as I walked away her.
It wasn’t even five minutes after we left the woman, when a nine year old boy started asking for food. He was angry, sad, crying, screaming, begging for food. Not just any food. Baby formula.
I wanted to buy it for him. I wanted to say yes. Why couldn’t I say yes? I bought the woman the same thing. I have enough to love him the same way.
My squadmates pulled me away. I couldn’t and shouldn’t buy him the milk. There was nothing that I could do. I was furious. I was so confused. I was broken. How could God let this happen to this boy, the woman and her baby?
When You travel around the world to various third world countries, you see every kind of tragedy imaginable. You want to save them all. Hug them all. Kiss them all. Give them all money, food, and shelter.
This is when it gets hard when you realize you can’t save them all. I can’t save them all. I can’t fix them all. I can’t make their life better. There is nothing I can do. I have to trust The Lord knows exactly what he is doing in this hard and broken world, because I have no freaking clue.
But I can do something.
I can look the woman in the eye and ask about her baby, allowing her to feel like a person rather than an annoying beggar on the street. I can take a bar girl out for coffee, ask about her boyfriend and family, and go shopping with her. I can hug, play, and kiss the baby girl who was born with alcoholism, loving her the way she deserves. I can smile and laugh with the hungry children in the slums as I hand them them their only meal for the day. I can teach English to a group of adults who have a desire to learn so they can have better opportunities.
I can be different.
I am different. Not because I am white, American, and college educated.
I am different because I have the joy of The Lord. Because I am a light in this dark, dark world. Because I have something, a life, that is worth living for. Because my Jesus is worth living for.
And I can offer this to them; a life worth living for. A life full of wonder, joy, adventure, and freedom.
I can do something because I have something.
I have a life worth living for.
Do you?
