Medicine Application or is it Feet Washing?

Most of my life I have been a pretty independent person, ever since I was a little kid I wanted to, and could, do most things on my own and for myself and I only asked for my parent’s help when it was absolutely necessary. I always just wanted to keep up with my brother who was 4.5 years older than me and he didn’t ask my parents to help a whole lot so from the age of 4, when I learned how to ride a two wheel bike by myself, on I didn’t ask for much of anything. The only time I remember really wanting and feeling like I needed my parents was when I was sick. When Mom or Dad would have to stay home with me and they’d make me special food and give me my medicine, I not only wanted them there but I felt like I needed them and I felt so special. When I was fifteen I had shoulder surgery and I remember a couple of days after it my mom went on a trip and I just wanted her home again, I needed her to help me take my medicine and help me get dressed and to put my hair in a ponytail... To this day when I am sick I just want to be taken care of and I miss my parents a lot at these times, there is something special about how a parent takes care of you...

Yesterday a couple of our kids went to the doctor, one had sores on her head and the other had sores/bites all over her body. They each came home with medicine that they needed to apply twice a day. At night, before she showered, one of them came up to me and asked me if I could help her with the medicine and applying it after she showered and quickly the other one asked the same. These are two girls that I am not extremely, extremely close with yet when I came in their room and was looking at the medicine and started helping them they where just glowing and turned to me and said, “You’re like our mom.” I laughed at the thought and yet knew that their was some truth to it... that I may be the closest thing they had had in a while, or ever, to a fully loving and caring and embracing female figure. As I thought about how much I wanted my mom to help me with medicines when I was sick and how I still miss her when I am sick it all started to make sense... they’d probably never had an older female figure care enough to take care of them when they were sick and help them with their medicines. It wasn’t quite washing feet and the Bible never speaks of Jesus applying medicine to the disciples but while I was combing through one girl’s head searching for the sores (something that to me was rather gross and I’d really prefer not to do) I couldn’t help but be aware that what I was doing was much more than just applying medicine. Just like when Jesus washed the disciples feet (John 13:1-17), it had much more meaning than just cleaning feet, I knew this moment and this gesture for them was far greater and spoke far more to their hearts than it looked like on the outside and that their hearts were being touched in a way far larger than I could probably ever know.

What Would You Do

When I was in eighth grade I remember a song coming out, the name was “What Would You Do” by City High, and I loved it. It was a very vivid, very sad song about a guy who used to be friends with a girl who was now a prostitute and asking her why and what happened and then her explaining that it was her only option to feed her child. The man goes on to question her and judge her and she explains how much she hates it and how it makes her want to die and how as a kid she ran away with her sister so her dad couldn’t rape her.

LISTEN HERE:

I came across the song again the other day and got excited because I remembered how much I liked it. As a 13 year old I remember thinking it was very intense, as a kid living in an upper-middle class, quiet suburban town none of these things had ever entered my mind and I didn’t know how to fathom them yet it grasped my soul and my heart broke as I listened to it; I was hooked. Little did I know at that time that 11 years later I would find myself surrounded by this on all sides. That I would walk daily and love deeply kids who had this type of a life. That I’d patiently have to explain the value of trusting someone and work tirelessly at helping a kid learn to trust who had been raped numerous times by three different step fathers and who had to run away to escape. Or that I’d walk alongside someone who is constantly acting up and just can’t seem to behave like a “normal” kid because for first first ten years of her life she’d stay at home alone with her brothers and sisters while her mom prostituted herself and her dad brought home all of his druggie friends. That I’d welcome into our orphanage three young girls who were just all raped by the man who was supposed to be protecting them. The stories don’t end there...

At the age of 13 I didn’t know what to do with this song other than hurt and think about how awful that must be. Today I find myself knee deep in it yet full of hope. I know this crap happens now and I hate watching the effects and pain my kids feel daily as a result of it all. Yet when I am in the courtyard playing with them, or in church or the car listening to them sing to God, I hear a hunger in their voices, one that is from deep down in their souls that only someone who has gone through Hell and seen the Light can sing out from. They hunger and yearn for God and look to Him and depend on Him for everything. They need a Savior more than my safe life has ever felt. What has happened to them continues to pain me, yet when I see Christ’s redemption at work I am reminded that He is in control and has a plan and I am thankful for the opportunity to get to walk alongside some of God’s beloved as He reveals His redemption and love to them.

The Kingdom at the Border

Yesterday I was doing one of my favorites activities in my new found job, sitting in line at the border. I seem to spend a lot of time sitting amongst hundreds of other cars for hours on end waiting to get into the US. I must say that over the last year I have become a much more patient person that before but I definitely still have a long way to go, thus this, waiting in line for hours on end is not fun for me in the least.

Yesterday I was crossing with Cris, one of the ladies who works with me. Our line was moving along and suddenly for about 5 minutes we did not move at all. We soon saw the problem, a woman’s car had broken down in our line thus all of the cars in our line had to get over (and people are not very nice when it comes to letting you over and in front of them). I instantly was annoyed, thinking ‘Why did this have to happen in my line. Come on lady, move your car!’ As I annoyingly tried to move to the other line Cris turned to me and said, “Oh poor lady.” To which I again thought, ‘Poor lady! Poor us! This is so inconvenient for us and its all her fault.’ As we got over and pulled up alongside her Cris said “I am going to talk to her” and she beckoned her to the car. They spoke in Spanish so I didn’t really know what was being said until I saw the lady start to cry and Cris give her a hug. Cris then told me she was going to get out and help her for a minute and would catch up with me. About 5 minutes later she returned to the car and told me about how the lady’s car needed to be jumped but she didn’t have money or a way and just kept telling Cris what a screw up she was and how she could never do anything right...

My response when I first saw her reasserted to her that she was a screw up but Cris was willing to look beyond our agenda and schedule and see a lady in need not only or a jump for her car but of truth being spoken into her and of love. I have no doubt that Cris was an angel to her and that spoke to her and her heart, that she is worthy and good and so much more than just a screw up.

I so often get caught up in only my life and agenda and miss those opportunities to be the Kingdom. I am the Kingdom when I want to be, when I put it into my schedule... this isn’t how it works, this isn’t have God calls us to walk. I am thankful I am constantly surrounded by people who get the Kingdom better than me so I can be reminded of who and what it is that God calls us to be.