Robin of Pensieve is my blog-friend-turned-real-life-friend, and she's is a fireball of energy, personality and heart. She is so dear to me, and I have been especially moved, on a very personal level, to watch her passionate participation in Compassion's India blog trip. She has shared words that are profound, gut-wrenching, beautiful and honest. Before she left, I asked her if she'd be willing to guest post here at my blog while she was overseas, and she graciously agreed. Robin's powerful words and photo arrived in my in-box this afternoon, and I can hardly wait for you to read on...
I'm standing in the shower while a perpetual army of water soldiers fights off the day's sweat and filth and emotion when I notice the shelf in front of me. I mentally tick off seven miniature bottles whose purpose is to clean, condition, soften and fragrance the top of my head to the bottom of my feet..when I lose it.
It's the second time today the tear dam burst when I didn't even know there was a crack in the dike.
I've seen things this week I shouldn't have.
I've seen things this week I shouldn't have because they just shouldn't "be" to begin with.
January 26, 2009 is a significant date to me; it's when Shaun Groves called me for the first time to discuss the possibility of me joining him on the next Compassion Bloggers trip. While there's an entire level of insanity for me to leave my husband and children to go, observe and write about a people I don't even know, it was never even a question I had to ask myself. I said it to him, and in the ensuing months, over and over again to others, "I can think of no better reason to write than to lend my voice to those who have none of their own."
for the rights of all who are destitute.
Speak up and judge fairly;
defend the rights of the poor and needy."
Proverbs 31:8,9
If I'm not mistaken, God's tellin', not askin'....
And yet, less than a week ago I was blissfully, ignorantly living the cliched American dream when God appointed a time for me to fly.
For 18 hours and forever, He's given me wings.
Poverty is no longer a word defined by Webster's; I've seen its generational reach as it self perpetuates. It's a Machiavellian assault on the innocents. I despise the injustices I've seen. I'm angry at the inequity of life. And oddly, though the potential exists almost to romanticize the poor, I see God at work in and through these circumstances. Maybe it's in those who suffer, but maybe it's in those who have the means to relieve the burden.
If you're a regular RIMD reader, you already know Shannon's a Compassion advocate; now, you've heard some of my story. Compassion International isn't the only child advocacy organization making a difference in children's lives, but it it's the best one I'm aware of.
Look at these kids--they have hope! Compassion kids are different, you can see it in their eyes (it's always in their eyes...). We visited four different projects this week and I could see joy...peace...hope in their countenance, something that was noticeably absent in street kids or those wandering villages.
If you've finally reached the tipping point and are ready to sponsor a child in need and release him from indignity of poverty, please click here and you'll meet children who are waiting to hear from you. At least click through to learn more.
It might just be the first move in a domino effect that breaks the cycle of poverty in a family forever...
because young girls and old women shouldn't have to bathe in the streets.
