meet linda (pronounced leen-dah; means cute, adorable, beautiful). hey there, pretty girl. she lives in the hole and she's been my photo of the week before. except before, i didn't know her. before, she cried at the sight of me. before, i hadn't stepped into her world.
it's been a strange transition working so closely to the ministry happening in the hole. i figured i would become more emotionally numb to it since i see it at such close proximity. but, quite frankly, the opposite has happened.
i remember when i was explaining life in the hole to a short-term missions team for the first time after i began working there. i said my usual stuff, expressed the need there, shared how tough life can be. and i cried. like, to the point that i just wanted to jump out of the van, find a corner and curl up in it. it no longer was just a story i told. it was her story. linda's story. i know kids now whose parents leave in the morning to go to work, lock their kids out of the house and make them fend for themselves until they get home. i know girls who are basically child prostitutes with no self-esteem or feeling of worth. i know parents who hardly have enough food to feed themselves, let alone their eight children. and it breaks my heart even more knowing their real life stories.
but for me, what keeps me coming back, what keeps me taking the long staircase down into this dump are the smiles i get when i turn the alley to the church. linda, who was so petrified of me two years ago, is now one of my most enthusiastic welcomers. she will stop whatever she is doing, run barefoot and jump over trash and dirty water just to rest comfortably in my arms. talk about redeeming people. god's already working on her little heart, changing it from fear and uncertainty to trust and love.
it's been a strange transition working so closely to the ministry happening in the hole. i figured i would become more emotionally numb to it since i see it at such close proximity. but, quite frankly, the opposite has happened.
i remember when i was explaining life in the hole to a short-term missions team for the first time after i began working there. i said my usual stuff, expressed the need there, shared how tough life can be. and i cried. like, to the point that i just wanted to jump out of the van, find a corner and curl up in it. it no longer was just a story i told. it was her story. linda's story. i know kids now whose parents leave in the morning to go to work, lock their kids out of the house and make them fend for themselves until they get home. i know girls who are basically child prostitutes with no self-esteem or feeling of worth. i know parents who hardly have enough food to feed themselves, let alone their eight children. and it breaks my heart even more knowing their real life stories.
but for me, what keeps me coming back, what keeps me taking the long staircase down into this dump are the smiles i get when i turn the alley to the church. linda, who was so petrified of me two years ago, is now one of my most enthusiastic welcomers. she will stop whatever she is doing, run barefoot and jump over trash and dirty water just to rest comfortably in my arms. talk about redeeming people. god's already working on her little heart, changing it from fear and uncertainty to trust and love.
