The hardest ministry days are the ones
that leave you feeling like you need to do something.
They are the days that you find yourself walking away
and trying to figure out how you can make a difference.
They are the days when all you want to do is cry
while searching high and low for a solution.
They are the days when you realize how sad the world really is . .
and how little one person can do on their own.
They are the days where you find Jesus a little bit more.
We've had those kind of days here in Nicaragua.
Part of our ministry is doing manual labor at a local orphanage.
Hardcore manual labor.
It takes us about an hour by truck to reach the orphanage every morning.
That leaves a lot of time to watch the countryside . .
or watch the people that we pass daily.
This past Wednesday on our drive out, I paid more attention to the individuals we were passing.
And I became more aware of their need.
There was a man who was probably around 60 years old,
manually dragging his leg with his hands so that he could walk down the street.
There was a woman about 65 pushing a cart filled to the brim with goods to sell at the market.
Attached to the cart was her 30 year old daughter; she was attached around the waist by a rope, like an animal,
and must have been suffering from some type of mental disease.
There was a child leaning against the wall of his home, picking at a mango,
and clearly dealing with Down Syndrome.
It became so clear how much of a need there was for understanding, for compassion, for knowledge on the current situation. I found myself wanting to grab Bethany, jump from the truck, and figure out how we could help; in any way possible.
The other part of our ministry is going to local colonies and building relationship with the people.
About a week ago, we were given the opportunity to visit a few different colonies in the area.
The first colony we pulled up to was filled to the brim with trash.
It's known as the 'dump colony.'
(Their street . . . )
The families that live there support themselves by digging through the dump;
finding valuables such as copper or plastic, and selling it.
Their houses are made from cardboard.
Some homes are merely a lean-to to help keep the blistering hot sun from scorching their bodies.
When rainy season hits in May and storms become a daily occurence,
most families will lose their homes from the lack of building material.
Can you imagine going 6-8 months without EVER being dry?
Living with your family of six, huddled under a piece of metal that you need to sell to feed your family?
Then, we walked over to the actual dump and came face to face with the reality of the process.
Kids playing in the trash, kids digging through the trash for their families, barefoot and hungry, eating whatever food they found amongst the filth.
Kids standing in black water, up to their knees. The 'dump kids.'
The ones responsible for helping with the support of their family.
Kids barely reaching the age of 6 or 7.
(Kids coming home from their day of work at the dump)
A few teammates struggled a lot last month with witnessing the children digging through waste so we walked back into the community to process.
That's when we saw him.
The CUTEST little boy with sun-bleached hair, amazing brown eyes, and the sweetest smile.
He was three but kept holding up two fingers with the most sincere look of accomplishment.
His name?
Allen.
And he stole all of our hearts.
(Allen, the boy we wanted to take home. <3)
When it was time to say goodbye, his father kept saying that he was a gift to us;
that we could take him with us.
He was being serious.
Not because they didn't want their son, but because they wanted a better life for him.
They wanted him to have opportunity.
(And I would have taken him.
I would have cuddled him up, tucked him in every night, made sure he got an education,
and given him the most opportunity I could.)
We all would have.
Sometimes life isn't fair.
Sometimes ministry is REALLY hard.
Sometimes you walk away just yearning to do more.
Yearning to wrap up all the kids in your arms and keep them safe and sound.
But usually, you can't.
As much as I want to, I can't just carry Allen on my hip into the United States.
I can't change the lives of the 'garbage colony.'
I can't heal the sick.
I can't bring understanding to mental illnesses.
I can't make a difference on my own.
But God can.
I just wish He'd help me understand the why behind it all.
I guess some things we will just never know.
<3tasha
