Worth the Trouble

There are some small experiences that I've had here that I've been so glad for. Every once in a while, I'll see an opportunity to do something small, something that probably won't make a life-changing impact, but that makes an impact nonetheless. I actually just finished reading a book called The Shack by William P. Young. It definitely challenged my view of God and gave me a lot of profound insights into the love and character of God. But there was one line at the end of the book that has really encouraged me.

Lately I had been feeling kind of like a failure. I came here to be a missionary, to touch people's lives for eternity, and I'm afraid that most of what I've done is just make some really good friends and help to heal people physically. There's nothing wrong with that, and I know it's good work. But I had really hoped to make some kind of lasting impact on someone's life. Anyone. Even just one.

Then I read this line, spoken from the perspective of God in The Shack: "...with every kindness and service, seen or unseen, my purposes are accomplished and nothing will ever be the same again."

Since then, I have had a new perspective on things, and when I see opportunities to do something for someone, I try to take advantage of it, to accomplish God's purposes. Which, by the way, I believe that quote is very true. Anytime we choose to show love in any way, we are witnessing to the universe that we believe that God's way is the best way.

The other day I had a unique opportunity to show love. Ansley, Caroline, and I were walking back from the market with Simeon, a 10 or 11 year old boy who only has one arm. It was super hot because it was the middle of the afternoon, and we were tired from having walked to the market and buying things. Along the way, we saw a girl, maybe 6 years old, with a baby strapped onto her back, and another young girl who looked to be about 18 months old following behind. We watched as the smallest girl stumbled and faltered in a zig-zag pattern behind her sister, falling and then standing up to walk forward again. It looked like her legs were somewhat crippled, possibly from Ricketts. Then Simeon told us, "You know, she's four years old." We were in shock. It didn't seem possible that she could be that old.

Ansley shook her head and said, "Malnutrition." She's probably right. So Caroline took one of the girl's arms, and Simeon took the other and helped her walk along the path. She was still having some trouble walking and continued to stumble despite their help, and she was breathing hard. I asked Simeon, "Do you know where she lives?" He said he did.

I then picked her up, and she looked at me with little to no expression on her face. I was glad that she didn't cry because some of the young children here are really afraid of white people. We walked all the way to her hut, which was only about 2 minutes out of the way, and I walked into her yard and set her down on the ground. She stared up into my eyes, and then unexpectedly, she laughed. Her eyes smiled with her mouth, and that laugh was the most beautiful sound I have heard in a long time. I smiled back at her and waved goodbye to her older sister and the baby, and we continued on our way.

As my time here is coming to an end, I've begun to realize that it's the experiences like this that really make everything here worth the trouble.