Reconozcan que el señor es Dios, El nos hiso, y somo suyos; somo su pueblo objetas de su prado. Salmo 100:3
I am writing from the bottom of my heart, and nothing less than that. I know some of you will read this, and question me, because you do not fully understand where I have been, where I am coming from, and where I am going.
I’ve written many entries about my trip to Tijuana, Mexico, but I’ve yet to stop writing, breathing, and thinking about los niños de la promesa de Jesús Christo. It wasn’t JUST a mission’s trip, it wasn’t JUST a few months, and it wasn’t JUST to hold babies. It was where I learned to love, where I learned the value of clean water, free worship, and safety. Tijuana was where I learned about hardship, poverty, the value of my home sweet home in Canada. Often we run to third world countries wanting to save them, change them, evangelise them, help them, when really we are the ones who need to learn the true meaning of being saved, being changed, evangelised and helped.
I reflect constantly on the things I witnessed living in a place like Tijuana, full of corruption, poverty, human trafficking, prostitution, homelessness, and orphans. I’m tired of sitting around feeling sorry for these people. Let me explain, I sit around with a wallet full of cash, hair done, new clothes on, riding in my best friends vehicles, talking about how bad Tijuana was, and how I feel really sorry for them. BUT I AM DOING NOTHING ABOUT IT. My heart aches as I think about my selfishness. I feel like I should be doing something more than praying. I’m not underestimating the ability of prayer, but I want to do MORE.
At the Purple Palace I struggled to find my purpose for the longest time. I arrived in Tijuana in shock at the amount of babies lying in lifeless cribs, knowing that there were thousands more on the streets. The women who worked with the babies were lifeless themselves. Recovering addicts, prostitutes, and single mothers ran the baby room, but of course this was strictly a job for them. The love I could give these children would never be enough, and I searched for the fruit I was instilling in them, to find nothing until I fell in love.
Tortuga and Emily taught me how to love without boundaries. I fell in love with them, I cannot imagine living without my mother. Tortuga (Bernice) was two months premature, and three months old when I arrived, consisting of nothing more than skin and bones. As I held her, I loved her, more than I could even imagine. Her little body & soul depended on me to hold her, support her, sing to her. After watching her grow sicker and sicker, and returning home to Calgary, she was diagnosed with the HIV virus. Such a small baby, not much hope for survival, I began to realise that I was watching her slowly die, and as soon as that thought popped into my head, I killed it with the fact, that I wasn’t watching her die, I was watching her live. Although tomorrow may come, and she may die, my Father will carry her little body directly to Him. Emily on the other hand was healthy, but not happy. She was just two when I met her, and there was an instant need for each other. Most of the children in the baby room were not held, therefore, when I come along, and pick them up, we are filled with smiles and joy to just receive physical touch. I was part of Emily’s firsts. I taught her how to take her first step, I taught her how to say my name, well, mama is close enough. I taught her how to trust me. And I taught her that I love her, and I always will. I tell myself every day that if Emily ever came up for adoption that I would adopt her in a heart beat. I don’t care if I have to sacrifice the rest of my life, it will be a bridge I will have to cross when that day comes.
Yet I failed them. Or my heart tells me I did anyways. I left them, just like everyone else. I don’t know when I will be back. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I never wanted to say goodbye .I got sick, and I copped out. Theres always been something in the way. In two weeks I was supposed to be on my way back to Tijuana, back to my children. But something got in the way. I don’t belong here, and I don’t think I ever will. I want to live where my hands are always dirty. I want to live where my God lives. I want to live where there are children without families. I want to live where my love matters. I want to live without material items. I want to HAVE to pray when I walk down the street. I want to live where frijoles and tortillas are eaten three meals a day. I want to live in a place that needs God’s light. I want to live where I am the minority. I want to live in faith. I just want to learn what living really is.
As I reflect on my time spent with God in Tijuana, I remember one thing very clearly. I felt God stronger than ever before in those children. Their forgiveness, grace, love, and hope even though their lives were horrible, they believed. I want my children growing up knowing their stories. I want to be humbled, thankful, faithful, and dirty. I want to get my hands dirty.
These thoughts run through my head a million times a day. I’m tired of speaking about how I want to see things happen. I need to start doing them.
I am writing from the bottom of my heart, and nothing less than that. I know some of you will read this, and question me, because you do not fully understand where I have been, where I am coming from, and where I am going.
I’ve written many entries about my trip to Tijuana, Mexico, but I’ve yet to stop writing, breathing, and thinking about los niños de la promesa de Jesús Christo. It wasn’t JUST a mission’s trip, it wasn’t JUST a few months, and it wasn’t JUST to hold babies. It was where I learned to love, where I learned the value of clean water, free worship, and safety. Tijuana was where I learned about hardship, poverty, the value of my home sweet home in Canada. Often we run to third world countries wanting to save them, change them, evangelise them, help them, when really we are the ones who need to learn the true meaning of being saved, being changed, evangelised and helped.
I reflect constantly on the things I witnessed living in a place like Tijuana, full of corruption, poverty, human trafficking, prostitution, homelessness, and orphans. I’m tired of sitting around feeling sorry for these people. Let me explain, I sit around with a wallet full of cash, hair done, new clothes on, riding in my best friends vehicles, talking about how bad Tijuana was, and how I feel really sorry for them. BUT I AM DOING NOTHING ABOUT IT. My heart aches as I think about my selfishness. I feel like I should be doing something more than praying. I’m not underestimating the ability of prayer, but I want to do MORE.
At the Purple Palace I struggled to find my purpose for the longest time. I arrived in Tijuana in shock at the amount of babies lying in lifeless cribs, knowing that there were thousands more on the streets. The women who worked with the babies were lifeless themselves. Recovering addicts, prostitutes, and single mothers ran the baby room, but of course this was strictly a job for them. The love I could give these children would never be enough, and I searched for the fruit I was instilling in them, to find nothing until I fell in love.
Tortuga and Emily taught me how to love without boundaries. I fell in love with them, I cannot imagine living without my mother. Tortuga (Bernice) was two months premature, and three months old when I arrived, consisting of nothing more than skin and bones. As I held her, I loved her, more than I could even imagine. Her little body & soul depended on me to hold her, support her, sing to her. After watching her grow sicker and sicker, and returning home to Calgary, she was diagnosed with the HIV virus. Such a small baby, not much hope for survival, I began to realise that I was watching her slowly die, and as soon as that thought popped into my head, I killed it with the fact, that I wasn’t watching her die, I was watching her live. Although tomorrow may come, and she may die, my Father will carry her little body directly to Him. Emily on the other hand was healthy, but not happy. She was just two when I met her, and there was an instant need for each other. Most of the children in the baby room were not held, therefore, when I come along, and pick them up, we are filled with smiles and joy to just receive physical touch. I was part of Emily’s firsts. I taught her how to take her first step, I taught her how to say my name, well, mama is close enough. I taught her how to trust me. And I taught her that I love her, and I always will. I tell myself every day that if Emily ever came up for adoption that I would adopt her in a heart beat. I don’t care if I have to sacrifice the rest of my life, it will be a bridge I will have to cross when that day comes.
Yet I failed them. Or my heart tells me I did anyways. I left them, just like everyone else. I don’t know when I will be back. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I never wanted to say goodbye .I got sick, and I copped out. Theres always been something in the way. In two weeks I was supposed to be on my way back to Tijuana, back to my children. But something got in the way. I don’t belong here, and I don’t think I ever will. I want to live where my hands are always dirty. I want to live where my God lives. I want to live where there are children without families. I want to live where my love matters. I want to live without material items. I want to HAVE to pray when I walk down the street. I want to live where frijoles and tortillas are eaten three meals a day. I want to live in a place that needs God’s light. I want to live where I am the minority. I want to live in faith. I just want to learn what living really is.
As I reflect on my time spent with God in Tijuana, I remember one thing very clearly. I felt God stronger than ever before in those children. Their forgiveness, grace, love, and hope even though their lives were horrible, they believed. I want my children growing up knowing their stories. I want to be humbled, thankful, faithful, and dirty. I want to get my hands dirty.
These thoughts run through my head a million times a day. I’m tired of speaking about how I want to see things happen. I need to start doing them.
So I wanna change the world, what am I waiting for?
No comments:
Post a Comment