Dirt-stained feet

I was awakened early this morning by tears spilling from my eyes. I couldn’t unsee what I saw yesterday. That’s the problem with seeing and hearing things – you can never undo the senses. I had been traumatized by my single experience which is someone else’s daily reality.

There is a family of four living nearby that we help periodically. Children going hungry is unacceptable for us so we help by providing food and as often as we can, we give the unskilled father whatever work we can muster. The children are sweet, innocent and always smiling. They are beautiful people.

Typically, I pull up at their gate and deliver whatever gift I have, but yesterday, they sent me a message that they had a gift for me. The young man, who has taken to calling me mother, remembered that I wanted large stones for my garden and seized the opportunity to get me a load from his neighbor who needed to dispose of his. I was more than touched by their gesture of gratitude and jumped into my truck eager to receive my unexpected gift. I pulled up to the gate and upon seeing the large pile of stones, which he bought with some of the money I paid him the day before, I got to work helping to load the smaller ones that I could manage, into the truck bed. This was the first time I walked into their yard.

It was also the first time I walked into the entrance of their very broken down, wooden, dirt-floor structure they called home. Complete with chickens wandering in and out.  I immediately thought 'this, my friends, is what poverty looks like. I have spent many decades doing ministry work and missions, so I am not a stranger to helping the less fortunate, but THIS, my friends, is what poverty looks like.

The local council, or whatever political entity is it, has granted them a house. Yes, a prefabricated concrete structure and it is almost ready for them to occupy.

Their joy and my joy for them is only tempered by their distress of having no furniture and having to move what’s left of their mattress into their new structure with indoor plumbing.

I returned to my 2200 square foot air-conditioned house with colorfully painted walls, despite its many quirks, and tried to remove the images from my mind.

 It didn’t work because here I am at 4am doing the only thing that frees me – writing about it and then figuring out how I can help them.

If you can help me to help this family, quietly without fanfare, no tax deductions – just the desire to do unto others as you would have done to you, please let me know. I will always remember Jesus’ words “whatsoever you do to the least of these, you do unto me.”

Someone suggested I start a gofundme. If you want to help, here it is https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-a-family-in-need-bed-and-fridge

Selah!