How much of what we see in our daily lives do we discount and disregard as broken and worthless? How much of what we discount and disregard is priceless in God’s eyes?
There is no running water in the open air restrooms we use at the Safari Academy. The toilets have no valves or internal workings and the normal process we expect to happen when we pull the handle is instead performed by a remarkable group of ladies whose job it is to keep the school clean and presentable. They flush the toilets using a garden hose that is more plastic than rubber and has more repairs than anyone I know would contemplate making – it would have ended up in the trash long ago.
I was intrigued by the fixes; the amount of time, energy and thought that had gone into plugging the holes and fixing the defects caused by abuse to make it whole again. It was time spent on something most of us would have thrown away so it could fulfill the purpose it had be created for.
I believe that’s what God sees when he looks at the beautiful children broken by a broken world. Children abandoned by their parents to the streets or government orphanages where they are little more than a number on a tally sheet. Children who have no hope for a better tomorrow. Children whose only prayer is for safety and someone to love them.
But, where most pass by and look the other way, the people of Bring Love In step in, wrap their arms around these precious kids and put them together in new forever families where they are loved, cherished and given opportunities for a future free from fear and abandonment. Evidence of God’s work is everywhere in this ministry; it is both breathtaking and humbling.
Broken things can be fixed if we are willing. I pray for God to break my heart for the things that break his and to show me what he would have me do to help meet needs around me and serve where I am called.
So, as I looked at the hose and marveled at the time loving hands had spent making something so broken valuable again, I saw an old woman looking at me like I had lost my mind. I pointed at the repairs and in my pathetic Amharic said “thank you”. She nodded, gave me a knowing smile and said “welcome”. My life will never be the same.