Mercy Falling and Failing

The team from Oshawa Canada left this morning. I want to and will blog about them, but something more urgent presses upon my heart today. Christ's compassion crowded out my insides and pushed sorrow into my heart as I drove to the airport this morning. Some time has passed since I began living in Bolivia, this impoverished yet captivating country. Poor, struggling people pass by my eyes daily to the point that they become part of the scenery. I don't care to admit it, but there are days when the poverty doesn't even phase me because it is so rampant and typical.

Rising at dawn to bid farewell to my Canadian compatriots, the Spirit stirred up my dormant empathy and tears. Sitting behind a strange man in his taxi, an emotional outburst would have been inappropriate, so I battled the billowing sadness within. Initially I was fine, driving past the regular beggars at their regular intersections as they approached vehicles asking for money. Then we drove past a young man, leaning against a wall, looking content, but clearly a street dweller. He had no hands. His arms went as far as the nubs of his elbows. Like an unexpected wave from behind, concern and worry for his well being hit me hard. I wondered what it must be like, to be limbless in a country where even the fully limbed find it difficult to eek out an existence. As a young man, what plagued him as he pondered the future? Profoundly bothered, I fervently prayed for all those with physical losses in Bolivia.

Shortly after, in a traffic filled part of the city, surrounded by noise and mayhem, an old man sat on a curb. Arms draped over his knees and head drooping between, the sight of him crushed me. On the ground, to his left, sat a yellow box of chocolate. Those bars represented his livelihood, a life of wandering from car window to car window, trusting that some gluttonous driver or passenger would give in to their cravings. What would it be like to be elderly and reduced to selling junk food just to survive? Again, I was deeply moved and prayed again for all the aged, despairing people in Bolivia.

My heart and emotions were moved tremendously this morning, but now questions mark my meandering thoughts. Why were young and old stuck on the streets? Did the old man not remember his Creator in the days of his youth, before his hands trembled and his eyes went dim? Proverbs says that lazy hands make a man poor and diligent hands bring wealth, but what if in trying to be diligent, the hands of a young man were lost? The children of a righteous man will never go hungry, so are they suffering for the sins of their parents? Could they have been so wicked that their income was punishment instead of life? Questions shaped by ancient words of wisdom, escaping answers for eons of years.

Endless need can overwhelm one person. It would be impossible for me to help every hurting, desparate individual in Santa Cruz, let alone Bolivia. Doling out time and love to twenty-six, attention-craved teenage girls is already a consuming and demanding task. A few verses come to mind as I travel this train of thoughts: John 9:3, Romans 3:10, and Proverbs 11:25. Check them out and chew on them for awhile. Put together with the help of Holy Spirit, I am able to handle the misery and misfortune of everyday life in Bolivia, but the truth is, I'm still chewing.