Tomorrow is our last day of ministry in Busia. I still haven't fully come to grips with that fact. These past 2 months in Busia have gone by faster than any 2 months of my life. Granted, I still have 2 weeks left in Kenya, but they won't be spent in the place that has been my home for this past summer.
God has definitely chosen the last few weeks in Kenya to break my heart the most.This past Saturday was our last day doing street kids ministry here in Busia. Every Saturday since we've been here we play soccer with them and make them lunch at the church. I remember crying my eyes out the first day that we spent with them. These kids are different from the orphans in that most of them have chosen not to live at home. They have chosen to live on the streets because, for various reasons, they would rather do that than live in their homes. One boy lives on the streets because his parents threatened to murder him. How can that even be called a home? They spend all the money they receive not on food, but on glue to get high. They soak rags in glue and keep the rags in a bottle that they guard with their life. If the kids want a meal at church then they have to give up their glue. One boy cried for an hour after his was taken. That's how dependent they are on glue. It numbs them from the hunger and pain that is with them constantly. Some of these kids are so high out of their minds that they can barely open their eyes let alone speak clearly.
After soccer, we talk to them about Christ before we serve them food. The smell of the glue on these kids is sometimes so strong that I get a headache. Most of the time I choose to sit in the room and listen instead of participating because I feel a level of sadness and pain for them that is so heavy that I can't even speak. When I process, I'm silent, and needless to say, I don't speak much on Saturdays. I just can't imagine a life like that. I can't iamgine not being able to go a minute without being high. I can't imagine being hungry every second of every day. I can't imagine having no money at all. Not having any food. Not even a roof over my head. I can't imagine being treated like the dirt that covers my body and clothing. I remember spending one church service underlining every possible verse I could find about God's love for orphans, the poor and the oppressed. I needed to know that God was working because I couldn't see it. To be honest, I still can't see the good in it, and I don't think I ever will. But, I know my God, and I know that He's working way more than I am even capable of imagining. I know He loves those kids an infinite amount more than my heart iseven able to love. His understanding goes way beyond mine and although it is rough and painful to have my heart break for what breaks His, it gives me so much peace and comfort to know that it is not breaking alone. He is right here, crying with me.
Sing to God, sing in praise of His name, extol Him who rides on the clouds; rejoice before Him—His name is the Lord, a Father to the fatherless (Psalm 68:4-5a)
I know that the Lord secures justice for the poor and upholds the cause of the needy. Surely the righteous will praise your name, and the upright will live in your presence. (Psalm 140:12-13)
