care

Let me start by saying I don't think the Café Mocha I got today was decaffeinated. Oh dear. Buzz, jitter, jitter. Terrible feeling. Anxious and jumpy. Heart racing.

Makes it hard to read, research and compose two lucid posts for an on-line class on Major Prophets. And write a weekly prayer update. And sit and have a two-hour chat with a friend, which happened at the coffee shop, which is where the trouble all began.

But no, something happened on the way to the coffee shop that actually got me a little agitated, before I ever got a whiff of caffeine.

So, I was walking, and taking advantage of the slower pace to snap photos. I saw some big seed pods with twirly leaves—you know, the kind that make them spin as they fall from the tree. They were lying on a sidewalk made of hexagon-shaped tiles, and I liked the organic pod shape in contrast to the geometric shape of the tiles. I took a few shots and then heard a voice.

"Madame, madame!"

Oh no. I braced myself, preparing to repel him. He thinks I'm a tourist. What is he going to try to sell me? 

I looked up to see this guy about my age, coming toward me picking up the pods. He didn't have much English, but motioned that I should take photos. He then proceeded, grinning all the while, to throw the pods one by one up into the air so I could watch them twirl down. I was so astonished. My zoom was set wrong and I didn't get a single photo of those pods. If I had had my wits about me, I would have pulled out to a wide angle and caught him in the act of throwing the pods. But I was rattled by the whole scene. He was as carefree and happy as a school boy. Photo or no, I will never forget the eagerness on his face as he helped me experience something he thought was new and foreign for me.

It was so spontaneous, innocent, and simple. It made me want to weep. 

I thanked him in his language, which surprised him, and continued on my way, struggling to control my emotions.

The prevailing thought was, "No, God. Not now. You can't make me care about these people now. Don't break my heart for them. Not at this point."

We're leaving here at the end of the year. I have built up walls, defenses, having been hurt so often by my interactions here. And just as we're waving the white flag, admitting defeat, giving in to hopelessness, You give me a glimpse of why You love them.

Admittedly, I know the realities. These people are fun-loving and warm. They are easy-going and welcoming—as long as you stay on the surface. Go deeper and you can run into strong resistance. Ask for change and you meet hostility.

At least that has been my experience. And we came here to go deep, to see lives transformed.

But today I realized I had lost sight of the beauty that is possible. That seed of joy that lies dormant, just waiting for a chance to sprout. The potential of each human soul for dignity, laughter, and goodness.

It still makes tears come to my eyes. Why now?