The gloves were covered in trash juice or TJ as we lovingly called it. Someone had used them all morning to clean up what is perhaps the dirtiest backyard I have ever seen.
There were piles upon piles of trash, old clothes, paint, what the family who lived there called “antiques” and loads of TJ-dirty water that was just sitting there in the midst of the garbage because of how much it rains here. In the garbage there were unidentifiable bugs, worms and the occasional maggot. There was definitely some dry heaving that went on while I grabbed some of the trash and put it into the city-council-approved garbage bags. When the dry heaves came, I’d switch jobs with Jen and when she couldn’t handle it anymore we’d switch again.
So when the little girl, who was probably about 8 or 9 years old, put the TJ covered gloves on and walked up to me and clapped her hands (hard!) on my cheeks all I wanted to do was scream and if I’m honest, react in a not-what-you’d-expect-from-a-missionary type of way. When she threw the worm at me, I wanted to react in a not-what-you’d-expect-from-a-sane-person type of way.
During our second week of ministry in Galway, those working with Discovery Church have walked the streets of where the Irish travelers live. Travelers are looked down on by society because apparently a large group of them are known for being dishonest or stealing. Like any subgroup or culture, many suffer because of what a few (or maybe the majority, I don’t know) have done. We knocked on doors and just asked if anyone needed help with anything. We took out a lot of trash.
I don’t know where the Irish travelers fall as far as suicide rates go, but in this little girl I saw the start of a life of someone who obviously does not have the attention she needs at home. Why else would she smack a stranger? Not having a stable home with attentive and loving parents is fertile ground for future depression.
And my reaction sucked.
While there have been good – many times amazing – moments this first month in Ireland, there are also the realizations of how much I still have to grow. In the midst of grieving friends, family and luxuries that were left behind (I know that sounds dramatic, but I am seriously grieving leaving my pillows at home) there are growing pains.
The first month of ministry has been about finding out where exactly I fit into this whole World Race thing. What am I good at? It’s not dealing with attention starved children, apparently. Will I be good at it eventually? Is what we’re doing actually making an impact? Will the people who had the dirtiest backyard ever remember the group who braved the bugs, worms and TJ and think, “Hey maybe Christians aren’t so bad after all” and as a result turn to God one day? And what will come of the girl who smacked me? Will she remember the Christians who came to clean up her neighborhood and Emily, who played with her and talked to her no matter how much she screamed? Or will she remember the reaction of the girl she threw a worm at instead?
