Imagine.
It’s a thing that we’re all capable of but most days I
choose to forget because I want nothing to do with living in a world that’s not
my own. But then there’s times where we
get caught up in daydreams, we get caught up in living a fantasy that’s inside
of ourselves and we’re unsure how we’re to react. Sometimes there are certain words or phrases
that paint portraits of lives in our heads.
But then there are certain words, phrases, or stories that etch
portraits of reality onto our hearts that we can never escape.
We were walking the roads lining the refugee camp of Tambo
de Mora a few days ago. There’s nothing
fancy about it. The only beautiful thing
is the people and the tinge of hope that we seem to leave in our wake. Our goal was to assess some of the needs of
these families in an attempt to see if we can meet some of them. It’s just another way to show them Christ in
the flesh – that Jesus really does provide for them in the midst of their need. But then there are those times that we don’t
reach out to them… they reach out to us and etch their stories into the core of
who we are.
I’m beginning to learn that my own story is embedded in the
lives of the people that we run into here.
Jose Luis’ story really captured my heart because it resonated so deeply
with me. There’s really no particular
reason that it did other than I think it was the first time that I shed tears
down here. He told us about the night of
the earthquake and about his family and all that happened to them.
Imagine the ground becoming like liquid and sucking you into
the earth while the walls of your home come crashing down on you and the five
others you take care of. Try picturing
your wife’s arm breaking clean in two while you hear her and your children
screaming… then while being buried alive your ceiling collapses and crushes
you, the force of the blow causing you to do the splits.
Listen to the screams muffled by the debris surrounding you.
Feel the pain searing through your arm, your legs, and your
ears as you and your family lay there helpless… and while you lay there,
thoughts of doubt enter your mind – thoughts trying to figure out how the hell
you’re going to get out of this, how you’re going to fix your family, how you’re
even going to get out alive while others are being ripped from the rubble and
you just sit there, buried, thinking that this is the end.
And imagine this still being the case. Though it has been five months since that
nightmare occurred, you’re still buried beneath rubble. You’re still crushed by the uncertainties of
life. The only thing holding you up is
your faith and the hope that someone’s going to come by and rescue you from
your torment.
Jose has great faith.
I just know that this man struck a chord in me. He drew a line in my heart that I’m refusing
to step over, but probably will regardless.
I’m thankful we’re here in Peru.
I feel blessed that we get to be a blessing to these folks. Jose was the
catalyst to my own internal earthquake.
He proved to me that my faith isn’t as rock-solid as I thought it
was. This man’s story is etched into my
being now. His face is forever engraved
into my mind. And the intensity of the
flame beating off his heart has been captured by my own.
Gloria a Dios!
