Dear Friends,
Having returned from a full month in Africa, I have a number of images lodged in my brain.
— A young girl who won the 100 meter race for her 6th grade class. She had no running shoes. She ran across a field littered with rocks in her socked feet. Her victory smile was radiant.
— A young girl with a congenital heart condition. The condition was not diagnosed at her birth. In the United States, the problem would have been easily fixed. Now she will be lucky to live another 10 years.
— A mother who makes $3-4 per day washing clothes. Next to her one-room house is an open sewage ditch. When it rains, the house is flooded with sewage. She needs a retaining wall which she cannot afford.
— A jazz band from one of our schools in the Kibera Slum. A boy is playing the bass … another on saxophone … another on keyboards … and a girl on drums. They beam with pride.
What does it all mean? What is God teaching me in/through these encounters? Well, the lessons are endless. Perhaps at the end of the day for sentient beings, every encounter is fraught with lessons. There is simply so much to be taken in.
Here are a few conclusions. I am grateful for running shoes, and other shoes that protect my feet. I am grateful for doctors. I am grateful that sewage doesn’t run through my house when it rains. I am grateful for every child born into poverty who has the courage to smile. I am grateful for children who are in love with their musical instruments.
Some of the above images make me sad because I am acutely aware that my privilege is nothing more than an accident of birth. For a brief moment, my sadness gives way to gratitude; but then in a flash it returns to sadness. For it is my unsettled heart that beckons me to hand out shoes, build retaining walls, and set the stage for a world committed to serious transformation.
Be grateful. Be satisfied. Be sad. Be inspired.
Carter