He wasn’t wearing any shoes. His face was dirty and his hair full of lice eggs. He ran up to me, and reached out his arms wanting to be picked up. We were taking a walk through the San Mateo community, praying over the small mountain village, and asking God if He had anyone specific for us to talk to.
It’s usually when you’re least expecting it that God changes something in you or the people around you. I had no idea what His agenda was; I just had to make the choice to show up and trust Him.
Not sure if this little boy spoke any English, I asked, “What’s your name?” Through a smile he mumbled back a response. “Winston?” I guessed because I couldn’t hear him clearly. I found out later that his name was Windon.
I picked him up and we continued walking. Even though we could not communicate well with each other, he radiated joy and laughed and giggled the entire time we walked.
On this trip, I’ve felt a lot of compassion for people I have encountered, but there’s also something in me that causes me to back away a little bit. It might be a defense mechanism; knowing that I’m not able to solve their problems it feels safer to keep a small distance.
After walking awhile, I started getting tired and tried to put him down. His legs just clung tighter to my waist. “Keep loving him.” It was a gentle whisper from my Heavenly Father. As we continued to walk, my heart started to break for this boy. “Does he have a family? Where does he live?” I started to wrestle with God, “This boy needs a home. Where are his parents? He looks like he’s only six or seven years old.” Because I knew it’s not possible for me to give him a home, it was hard for me to stay engaged. It’s hard to stay present when someone has a need and you’re not able to do anything about it. I didn’t understand what a walk down the street on my hip could accomplish.
“Keep walking. Just trust me in this.” I chose to trust that still small voice and I carried Windon down the street until he saw a new group of people he knew and wanted down. Leaving him was harder than I expected. I wondered who was feeding him and taking care of his basic needs. I didn’t think I would see him again.
About a week later our group attended a large community worship festival. As I was watching the program, in large crowd of people, Windon comes right up to me with a huge smile on his face, and without thinking twice plops down in my lap. He sat with me through the majority of the show. I got to scratch his back and let him rest his head on my shoulder. Every time I’d stop scratching his back, he would pick up my hand and put it on his back.
He still didn’t have shoes on & still had lice eggs in his hair. I still don’t know anything about his family or where he sleeps at night, but I was filled with joy to see his smiling face. My heart continued to break for him, and that’s exactly what the Father wants. He wants my willingness to sit with people when they need someone the most. Windon didn’t ask me to fix any of his problems. He just wanted a back scratch.
If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship, that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. (1 Corinthians 12:24)
