A child, his face sunken and emciated, teeth missing from his smile. His body, a pile of small mangled, deformed bones, birth defect or disability, difficult to know.
A woman, late 60's, crawling on her hands and knees. Old t-shirts wrapped around her knees to somehow protect her knees from scraping agains the gravel streets. Her skirt tattered and torn. Her feet bare, caked and crusted with dirt.
A man, mid 40's, paralyzed from the waist down. He moves around in a seated tricycle powered by his upper body. His face is sullen, his eyes filled with sorrow. A begging bowl sits beneath him, empty.
We've seen the bracelets, the necklaces and the bumper stickers. But what would Jesus do? I don't remember any accounts of Jesus dashing the leapor his spare change. Or dropping a few coins in the blind man's bucket. What did Jesus do? He healed them. He made the blind to see and the crippled to walk. Amazing.
And I understand why like I've never before. Have you seen a crippled boy laying on the street corner? Have you watched a grown woman crawl in the dirt scrounging for scraps? I never had. If I had the ability to heal, believe me I would, in an instant. But since I don't, it begs the question, what do I do? Sure, I can give money, but it dosen't seem like it's enough. I feel so helpless. It's not fair. It's not right. Why him or her and not me? These are questions that cannot fully be answered, but they are questions nonetheless.
The poor. It's easy to forget about them, because we're not. It was easy for me to spend my time on My Space, Facebook and e-mail. It took no effort at all to watch a season (or two) of Friends or Grey's Anatomy in a weekend. When I had nothing better to do I'd wander the aisles of Target, cruise the sale rack at Gap or grab a Starbucks just because. Never giving a thought to what a luxury, no what a privilege, it is to know how to drive much less, own a car. To have the access to constant electricity, to own a tv, to afford cable or to have a job that allows me the great gift of two days off in a week.
It's humbling friends. It's kick you in the stomach, break your heart in a million pieces, cry your eyes out, humbling.
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1 comment:
Not that working with intensive needs kids is anything like what your experiencing, but I think I understand what it is your saying.
The kids I work with are oblivious to the world around them. They feel as weel, but do not contain abstract thoughts. When they are happy, the feel sheer joy with little to stop their happiness. When they feel sadness or even anger, the feel the raw, unabridged, version of that emotion.
I think in a way that God shelters the weak. For those who suffer, it is up to the strong to shield and protect them from those who would do harm to them. It is this sense of honor and respect of God that 1 achieves a modern version of Bushido.
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