Today was Good

When I see what I see, it makes me feel guilty to be happy. And yet happy is what they need. Not happy as in ignoring reality and plastic Barbie faces, but happy as in joy from the Lord that goes deeper. And sometimes, I just don’t have it. They meet me at the door of the car, with their faces plastered up against the glass, making a dirty smudge: “so and so broke their arm! So and so had surgery.” And so it begins.

I didn’t get enough sleep last night. I just found out that our faithful worker, who I respect and appreciate and always encourages me, has to work on Saturdays from changes at his job. It hits me hard and I swallow tears because I can’t be looking mopey for the kids—they don’t need one more sorry, sad face in their ugly world.

It is ugly. I can’t stop my lip from curling when I think about the smell, the flies. They live and work at the dump. They make their living from the fact that no one takes the time to recycle. All they’ve known is trash. All they’ve been treated is like trash. Where do they throw their wrappers? Anywhere. It is all the dump.

And so I tell myself now is not the time to cry—it is to be strong, to be loving, to be God’s hands to these children. We have a bubble gum blowing contest. We form a conspiracy and surprise Washington with little notes and a loud, off-key “Happy Birthday” song. And as we fold up the dirty blankets that we sat on, one girl looks up and says,  “Today was good.” And I agree. And then I go home and cry.

Because I am not that strong. To tell you the truth, when I woke up, I didn’t want to go. I was hoping the rain would cancel our trip. Because it is hard. And I am lazy. But I went because I love those kids, and I am always blessed when I go. I know this. I remind myself of this. But I also went because I knew there were people going. People counting on me. What about when our worker has to go back to work? Who will be the faithful one…the one that everyone knows is going, even if they are alone.

I don’t want to be that person. I wish I had a Saturday off every once in a while. That responsibility is so heavy, and it so quickly becomes a burden. And I feel so small. I feel guilty. I wish I could tell you I jumped out of bed this morning to go to the dump. But I didn’t. And after my cry, I wash my face and say “Today was good.” 

(The bracelet that Henrique made for me)