I feel at home here, in this land half a world away from what I know. As I walk through the rough streets my feet are covered in dust, my scarf blows in the breeze behind my back, and I find new places awakening within my heart that have never stirred before. It’s a hard life here. People work for everything, needs follow like a constant shadow, but no one is in a rush. There is time to breath, time to pause, time to make room for a big God, time to ask this God to show up, and time to believe that He will.
Today I went out into the slums for the first time. Eight of us piled into a small jeep and bumped our way down a dirt road to a small village of makeshift huts and a few cement houses built on loan. The streets were muddy. Flies swarmed. A baby peed on the floor. But the children flocked at our arrival. Their smiles made me at home.
My first thought was to wonder what I was doing there. It wasn’t because of the filth. I looked at myself and thought, “what do I have to give?” I felt out of place, like an unwanted piece of furniture that everyone is bound to keep tripping over. But the women I was with were reassuring. They wanted me there. The children wanted me there. I played with them all morning while others trained girls in tailoring and met basic medical needs.
The truth is, there is not much I can offer to India. But there is a lot that my father can offer to the people that he loves. As we prayed this afternoon, the hearts of the women who do this day in and day out were another reminder to me of how much my father is the one to come and save and redeem and heal in our lives. There is nothing we can do to meet the needs of these people in the slums, but there is a lot we can do in making room for someone else who can.