(In Part 1, I had been reeling and confused from circumstances from the previous month. We left this story last time with me looking out the window just in time to see 2 Haitian boys steal a basketball from the property where we were house-sitting. All I could think was…)
I had to get it back!
“Take your grubby mitts off that ball,” I screeched through the opened window. Furious, I tore after the little thieves. They ran away, tossing their loot aside. Not finding them, I began to search for the stolen ball outside the artificial protection of the property. From behind the rock wall, the boys suddenly lurched at me. “Me, hungry,” one of the boys asserted in one of his well-practiced English phrases.
Reeling from the turmoil in my own life…
And angry that they had startled me, I spewed out, “What? You steal from me and you want me to feed you?” My attitude clearly transcended our language barrier. Spinning on my heels, I stormed back into the house and flung open the refrigerator, ready to fix lunch.
The light went on, in more ways than one.
Those two boys were probably feeling the pain I had been feeling. Rejection and betrayal. Loneliness. A hunger only love could fill.
The sudden realization of God’s Heart toward them, and that they probably had no parents to feed them overwhelmed me. They were street children. REALLY hungry.
I heard Jesus say,
“If you do for the least of these…you do for Me…” I could sense His tears, and I wept, too. How I wish I could have realized my mistake in time to run after them to give them a luscious meal served with the compassion that is meant to heal the broken hearted. That would have fully satisfied not only their physical hunger, but also their emotional love-hunger. But they were long gone, and I had no second chance to serve them. They were still hungry.
It was hard to see my lack of mercy through God’s eyes that day.
“Yes, Lord, I have lost my opportunity, but never again,” I sighed, determined to set myself on a new course. And, thankfully – with His help – I did learn to deeply love the people of Haiti as much as any others in God’s wonderful world as I went onward from there to Mexico.
The road was long and hard.
But my Father did not forsake me, even in the face of my husband’s awful secret. The Lord became my Husband. I felt His love surround me. And each time I felt another’s pain, and loved them, my heart was healed a little more.
Maybe He would make me into a useful pot after all!
Until next time…
God bless you bunches!
Awaiting His shout,
The MomCourager™
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