It's after midnight and I'm up writing.
Why? Because I have to. Because I think I finally found some words.
In July, I went to India. Two and a half weeks. Thousands of miles. Different time zones.
And somehow, during all that, God was working on me.
When I came home, everyone, and I mean EVERYONE asked about my trip. I told them how great it was and if they had time, I'd tell them about the traffic (which was insane) or about what I did while I was there. I was happy to tell them, share what I had experienced.
Here's the thing though: I said the trip was great, which it was... but what I really wanted to tell them was how heartbreaking and heart filling it was too.
I just don't know how to put into words what I saw there-
the brokenness, the sadness, the longing...
Whenever I close my eyes, I see those four girls. We sang a silly ABC song and did puzzles and took photos and played Duck Duck Goose and giggled all messy, laughter spilling and eyes twinkling. Whenever I close my eyes, I see all those kids walking home from school barefoot so they didn't ruin their only pair of good shoes on the extremely muddy road.
Whenever I close my eyes, I see the kids lined up, waiting to for a single piece of Juicy Fruit gum. They smiled big and said, "Thank you Aunty."
Whenever I close my eyes, I see that girl with the two braids, holding up that marker we gave her, saying, "Excuse me-what is this?"
Sometimes I lose sight of it for a bit. I fool myself into thinking that other things (like waxed eyebrows and a shirt that lays just right and a room that's not too hot or too cold) are more important. My tank top shrunk in the dryer and I step in a huge puddle on the ONE day I actually wear sneakers and I flash back. I see girls running to the rooftop to grab their few items of clothing before the rain starts pouring, soaking them all over again. I see the kids with no shoes and big, flashy smiles, walking through trash-filled mud puddles.
And sometimes when I'm driving home from work or church, my heart starts beating heavy and I can feel my throat tighten and I try to blink back the tears. I don't have to close my eyes to remember how her eyes looked. There was such a hollow-ness, such a longing, such an intense sadness... it was unlike anything I had seen before. I'm told that she has become withdrawn and stubborn, refusing to sing along with the others. And I wave for her to come over to me. She walks to me that day and plops on my lap a few days later and I fix the crooked clip in her hair. She writes some of her letters for me with her broken piece of chalk. I help her write the rest. And by that Sunday, she's up with the other kids singing and smiling and being silly as ever.
I can't unsee those things. I can't forget the pain and brokenness. And I don't want to.
I also don't want to ever get to a place where I forget that there are children out there with no one loving them. There are children out there, dying because they're hungry and there's just no food. There are children smiling, even though they have nothing..and why do we think that we can only be happy when we have stuff? I don't ever want to get to a place where I'm not moved with compassion to DO something!
Jesus tells us to love our neighbor like we love ourselves and to feed the hungry and mourn with those who mourn and whatever we do to the least of these...
And if we're honest... We love ourselves more than anything and we don't even think about the starving people, let alone feed them. We send a card to the one who is mourning and maybe send flowers, but we rarely send ourselves. And the least of these? We close our eyes or roll them, we walk away, we laugh, and we maybe give some loose change so they'll leave us alone, but we never think to invite them to have lunch with us or even tell them about Life-Changer named Jesus.
We are so far away it seems.
And the tough question we have to ask is this: If we are not living as Christ commands, then are we really living at all?
