Compassion

Compassion. So many people have so much compassion for animals. Like every time that commercial for animal abuse comes on TV and there are all these sad puppies and kittens with that lady singing in the background “in the arms of the angel…” We’ve all seen it, and it makes us all want to go out and adopt 100 kittens…or maybe that’s just me. I change the channel every time it comes on. It ruins my whole day.  People have funerals for their animals, people have clothes and fancy refrigerated food for their animals. We love our animals. I can’t help but wonder how the world might be if everyone had that same compassion for people. I met a girl today named Rachel. Rachel is blind. Rachel’s eyes were eaten by maggots. Rachel is a year and a half old. Rachel’s mom dropped her into a latrine and left her for dead. Until someone came along to use the bathroom and noticed a baby in the bottom of the pit. Rachel survived. She has had four surgeries and still can’t see. Maybe if we put Rachel in a commercial and played a sad song, we would compel people to have compassion. Or maybe they would just change the channel. It’s easy to avoid the hard things in life, especially in America. But each and every day, Africa forces me to face the hard things in life. The things like babies being thrown into sewage. The things like how Rachel will feel when she asks how she lost her sight. How Rachel will feel when they tell her that her mother threw her away. Rachel is at a baby orphanage with about 20 other babies who were put in similar situations. Most were left at the doorstep. How is this ok? How do things like this happen? What ever made someone think that this is ok? How can we be ok knowing about these things? How can we change the channel? No, maybe you didn’t meet a baby who is 6 pounds and 6 months old today. Maybe you didn’t rock a baby to sleep that has no one in the entire world, who was left on a doorstep. But I did and I can’t change the channel. I’m not saying we should all go out and adopt African babies. I’m saying it happens. And we should care. I’m saying we should have more compassion for people. God asks us to love Him, and love people. No more changing the channel.

“He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.” Psalm 40:2

Rain Boots

Missing rain boots wasn’t the most tragic thing that had happened in my life. However, I was fond of my rain boots, I had gone on a long quest looking for the perfect pair. They had black and white designs, complete with a nice buckle at the top. I was styling in those rain boots. You can imagine my concern when they went missing. Yes, I had been the one to leave them outside my door to dry but the thought that they may up and walk away did not cross my mind…Considering that Africa has two seasons: rainy and dry, my concern was justified. Thankfully, it didn’t rain for a while and my worries over my missing rain boots were mixed into the sludge of all that was consuming my thoughts. As I went for a run to clear my thoughts a few weeks later I stopped and prayed for myself and the girls. I prayed specifically for a girl I had become close to named Naomie. She had been having a rough time since I arrived at MITS and for some reason she had cleaved to me the past weeks like my long lost twin. She may be 17, but she thought I was her new mom. Naomie had a known reputation and very few friends, thanks to her reputation. I had been told she had no family and had been thrown from one children’s home to the next since she was little. Naomie has a tattoo on her arm that her mother gave her when she was three. I prayed that our relationship may grow and that I may have more chances to talk to her one on one, that I may be able to help her through whatever issues she was dealing with. That I may be a constant friend that wouldn’t waiver despite what she had done or would do. As I ended my run, I walked to the gait to knock and finished my prayer for Naomie. After a few knocks with no answer, I peered through the peephole into the girl’s compound. I didn’t see anyone. Except for Naomie, crouched down, leaning against the wall, and crying. God answered my prayer with impressive speed. Once I was let in the gate, I asked her if she wanted to come over to our apartment and talk. She said yes, and we spent the next hour painting nails and toenails and listening to music. She didn’t want to talk about what was upsetting her so I didn’t push. I told her if she ever did want to talk that she knew where to find me. We prayed together and then she left. I wasn’t sure how to feel, she hadn’t talked much, and I felt like I probably hadn’t done anything to really improve the situation. I couldn’t help but wonder if I had done any good. About 10 minutes later, there was a knock on our door. Kristin answered it and when she closed the door, there were a pair of black and white designed rain boots in her hands. I was more than excited to see my long lost rain boots, I didn’t think I would see them anytime soon. “Naomie brought these by,” she said as she handed them over. And with a pair of rain boots, I knew that the things we do, no matter how small or insignificant they may seem, can make a difference.