“Football?” He asked. He was a skinny gypsy boy, probably 9 or 10 years old.
I looked around. “No football” I replied, shrugging my shoulders.
“Football!” He insisted and pointed to the church we slept in. His big eyes were too much for me, so I walked inside.
This church in Skopje, Macedonia was in the middle of a Gypsy-filled town. Mounds of trash lined the street, which gave Skopje it’s name, “Trash Heap”. It was just a building with an open room and a kitchen, but the giant Cross on the roof revealed it’s purpose: to be a light in the darkness, to bring hope to those living amongst the garbage.
I looked around for a football, (also known as a soccer ball to my American friends), and came back to the door empty handed. “No football.” I said, putting my hands up in the air again helplessly. My heart started to break as those big eyes became sad.
With shoulders haunched, he turned and started to walk back to the bench where two of his friends were waiting. The hopeful expressions quickly faded from their faces as they saw no chance of being able to play the game they loved.
Desperately, I started looking around our property. There had to be a ball somewhere. We play with kids every morning, surely a ball of some sort must just be lost in the tall grass. However, my search ended with the same conclusion, no football.
And then I saw it. An empty two liter plastic water bottle.
No, I thought, it wouldn’t work.
I stared at the empty bottle a little longer.
Or would it? I asked myself. It might not be a football, but it could definitely function as one.Yes! Yes, it could work! My eyes lighting up.
I walked over to the bottle. The boys’ heads perked up as I walked onto the field. I stopped and picked up the empty bottle. I motioned for the boys to come over as I screwed the cap on. They looked at me with curiosity, (actually more like I was a weirdo), but they joined me anyway. I motioned with my foot to kick the bottle. I received more curious looks. I motioned again. I knew they understood what I meant as huge smiles covered their faces. Dust started to rise from the ground as the game began.
We spent the next 30 minutes playing. The boys were rowdy, and even a bit rough at times, but mostly joy and fun filled the air. I laughed with them and smiled as I watched them play. My own heart became so full of joy as I began to understand what was happening. But how did it come about?
It was just an empty plastic bottle.
But no, it was so much more. Redemption was coming on that small football field. Through a plastic bottle, joy and happiness was born. A plastic bottle, something that was scattered all throughout the trash heaps that surrounded the church, a PEICE OF DISCARDED TRASH, was bringing joy to these boy’s hearts and to mine as well.
Looking back, I can’t help but wonder how those boys feel. They are Gypsy children, often left on their own throughout the day to care for themselves and wander the streets looking for food. Other Macedonian people couldn’t understand why we were spending our time in Skopje. When they asked us where we were staying, a look of almost disgust would come upon their faces as we responded. “Why would you want to stay there?” they would ask.
Do those boys feel like a water bottle, discarded among the trash, just dismissed as something that no longer has value or use? Do they realize that there is so much more for them, that they can still be filled with love and life and light? Do they know that they can bring joy, just from a smile?
Yes, it started with just a plastic bottle. But it was so much more than that. In that moment, the Lord gave me hope in the midst of what seemed to be a hopeless situation. In a time where I felt helpless, He showed me the way. And He showed me how to love those boys. He showed me how to pray for them.
When you live in a town named “Trash Heap” it can be easy to lose hope. Even in the hopeless situations, we can make the most out of what we do have. Hope can be found amongst the trash, in a building with one open room and a giant Cross on the roof.
