The drops are steadily falling against the window pane, and I hear the constant beating of the rain. It is unexpected, the forcast called for a sunny day and yet the water falls. This mirrors how I have been feeling lately, I don't know if it is because I have been reading these posts from Ann these last few weeks, about her trip with Compassion. I have an unexpected restless feeling.
I have been on missions trips, and I too have looked into the eyes of the hurting. My heart has beat love into the broken and I have read the unspoken look of thanksgiving from a mothers eyes. I too have smelled the dirt, which is sometimes how we have described it to others. You can see the pictures, and feel touched, you can hear the stories and be moved to give...but once you smell the dirt of the country, the people of that country never leave your soul.
So this past week I have looked at the pictures and I have read the stories and memories come flooding back. I look at the shingled roofs next door and I remember the steel roof my husband built for the man in the wheel chair down in the squatters village. The trailer that our church donated for a young couple to have a home of their own and a new future. The children playing in the streets with a balloon, a most treasured prize. The memories touch my heart. And my eyes well up. My heart is heavy. Today, I read a post that explains it all...how when you go to the ones in need...you see the heart of God. Upon returning home it is difficult to enjoy the blessings of this first world country and I too struggle with seeing After the Poverty.
And yet after I read this...my heart is encouraged, and I look out the window and see the sun peaking through. In this first world country I begin to remember the youth at the soup kitchen, the cans collected for the food bank and the money given to ones in need. My heart remembers the supper for the migrant workers and yard sales for the people in Mexico. I look around and I see the Son shining through and my heart is again full.
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