When you See, When you Smell, When you Feel
Ten o’clock at night.
I can see expansive galaxies in the night sky that remind me of how miniscule is
our presence in God’s creation.
My senses are cocooned in 80 percent humidity producing a constant stream of condensed sweat that rivers down my back in the 85-degree night,
a teasing breath of breeze promises little relief,
the not quite deafening sound of a diesel generator drowns the yapping and
occasional howling of stray and unwanted dogs.
I could find some comfort if only the breeze would be just a bit more
willful.
Then the smell of a constant stream of fermenting human waste that flows
in open gutters would move up the bare mountain on which sits the home of
children left orphaned by a vicious war.
A conflict of vague substance but sharp blades and amoral bullets.
The war is over,
but it isn’t.
Left are
children without fathers to hold them,
babies without mothers to give them their breasts,
mothers without legs to carry babies wrapped on their backs to
introduce them to life,
fathers without their hands to build futures for their families.
Maybe more than that, left are a people who live with little,
have little and have for too long known even less.
I am at an orphanage in Sierra Leone being a drop-in father for adolescent girls
and young boys who want to be treasured but don’t have the words to ask.
I am part of a group of Americans who are bringing some desperately needed
emotional and financial resources out of our overflow to a people who have no
flush toilets,
cold air,
flowing water when you turn on the tap
because there is no tap,
refrigeration
because there is no electricity,
few (very few) paved roads,
doors and windows;
not to keep the weather out, but the poisonous snakes that
want to share their beds,
an emergency room if the unexpected and possibly fatal happens,
not even a doctor to prescribe some simple antibiotics to resolve
a little boy’s kidney infection (really).
It’s not an environment friendly to humans.
But Freetown,
the capital of this small and ignored country,
is home to 2 million of them.
Jesus said that what you do to the least of these, you do to him.
This then, is where Jesus lives and there are a lot of them.
Their eyes are open invitations to know their souls.
Their arms welcome you without expectation.
Their smiles are the artwork of their hearts.
To the uninitiated it is hell.
But.
Look, you will find pockets of heaven.
Lighted candles drive out darkness.
Each evening the expected darkness returns.
But the survivors are relentless;
more candles are lit.
Maybe soon shadows will be rare.
The sparks that light the torches
only need small encouragement to attract more to do the same.
It is easy for us to participate.
We have to suffer very little to light a lot of candles.
Children need to be held.
Minds need educating.
A little cash ($50; it’s a loan, it gets paid back to use again)
starts a business that feeds a family,
not for a day,
but for a lifetime.
It’s true, I have seen it.
When you see,
when you smell,
when you think,
when you feel.
You won’t not want to help.
Write me and I will tell you how to give just a little from the overflow of your cup that will make you the hands and heart of the great God of creation who lives in Sierra Leone
