Despite the setting...in a dump... there was so much beauty.
I was struck, as I walked out of the house of the woman with the baby, that the view from their hut was gorgeous...all mountains and greenery. There were beautiful flowers and trees.
We walked into a home that was probably 12 x 12, again dark, and sweltering hot and housed 18 people. These people were almost piled on top of each other in this house. I am sure they felt like they were on display when we all shoved ourselves in there with them to greet them and say God Bless you. Seemed so odd to me that we were saying God bless you... I know in my heart of hearts God does love these people. I believe he grieves for their plight... I believe he grieves for the losses that they have incurred, that I can't even fathom.
But I also think we should grieve for ourselves for the things we are missing that they have in abundance. These people aren't alone. They have formed a community of faith and shared pain, as well as joy. They may lack in stuff... but they don't lack in bonds that we here in America just do not form. They were willing to open their homes to us so that we could come in and shake hands... or stumps... or to hug them... to share a moment with a blind mother holding her baby.
I am not saying these people aren't crying out for help. They mourn for what they have lost. They mourn for the children that they see working in the dump to collect food or things to sell to get food instead of going to school. They mourn the lack of basic convieniences such as electricity and plumbing... just clean water.
There's such a contrast here.
Such beauty in the faces, such beauty in the plants and mountains, such beauty in the faith of those that come to the church and praise their Father in heaven. It was a huge lesson for me to praise my Father as well...in all things. Cause I honestly have nothing to whine about... only praises to give.