It would be a terrible lie for me to say that even one day goes by without hearing or seeing a heartbreaking story. I knew that when I said “Here I am, send me.” I knew what I was signing up for, and I agreed knowing full well how difficult of a struggle it would be. However, a part of me expected to fix it…all of it, all of the pain, all of the hurt, all of the brokenness, all of it…unrealistically optimistic, I know that, at least my BRAIN knows that but my heart seems to think otherwise. I’ll admit it, I’m a chronic “fixer” and my head spins and spins until I can find some sort of a solution to satisfy it. I live with that everyday, no matter where I am, and I’m pretty good at keeping my emotions and actions in check. But for some reason, I hit a breaking point today…
Ate Ara (another staff member at Safe) and I decided to go shopping in Makati (the business center of the Philippines aka a predominantly wealthy area) for a dress to wear to Safe’s Christmas party tomorrow night. After coming out of the store/mall that we went to, we had to walk through a VERY wealthy area filled with foreigners and bars and “coffee shops.” Now in all fairness to my ate, she had warned me about the area and how she had previously confirmed that it was a great area for prostitution. But as we walked through outdoor cafes with lovely music and fountains and beautifully lit trees (a perfect picturesque area) I noticed several interactions. As an older white man flirtatiously told a young Filipina how maganda (beautiful) she was with a horrible American accent and another older white man walked by holding onto a young Filipina, I noticed my clinched fists and heart pounding as I urged Ate Ara to walk faster and get me out of there as I repeated aloud “I can not break down now….I will be angry later, later, later, LATER!!!” And right before I snapped we escaped and I took a few deep breaths…but only a few before two little boys were holding onto my arm begging for money. We kept walking until the boys left and walked back to where they had started following us. As we turned the corner…it hit me…like a huge crashing wave.
And I lost it…right there on the corner of the streets of Makati, I stood sobbing (and not just tears running down my face but the entire works, like the "to the point of hyperventilation and curled into the fetal position until I could barely catch my breath" sobbing). My lovely ate patiently stood there handing me tissues and patting my back. I quickly regained enough composure to keep walking. And in case you're wondering what Filipinos did (since you know they are all watching the "puti" (white person)) as I walked and continued to wipe the tears from my eyes, they all asked “Why are you crying?”…gotta love their compassion/curiosity/wanting an excuse to speak English to the Americana! But something about hearing that made me smile.
Oh the injustices of the poor…and how incredibly angry I become when I see foreigners who aren’t doing anything to stop it and how angry I get at myself for seeming to be just like “one of them” because of how tiny and insignificant I feel in this huge sea of brokenness…but thanks to an amazing loving father who for some reason chose me, a little small town girl from NC, to love the unloved and to be broken for the broken. Yes, I see pain and heartache everyday but I am blessed beyond measure for the ones that I am able and called to love.
“But you are not like that, for you are a chosen people. You are royal priests, a holy nation, God's very own possession. As a result, you can show others the goodness of God, for he called you out of the darkness into his wonderful light.” 1 Peter 2:9
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