In the summer you find the shade and sit with your toes in the polluted dirt. Your feet never get clean, suddenly you understand the significance of Jesus washing the disciples feet...filthy feet, something we don't experience so much up north. The dogs roam, and chase, and die in the dirt. There are no 'inside dogs'. The children play on old cars, and kick deflated soccer balls. And the conversation is raw, honest, and who can put on airs...the Jones' are pretty easy to keep up with around here. At least that was then. When bald J sat on my lap one hot July day, C climbed the rusty car and didn't realize how very different her life was from these little smiles.
We wanted to take them back. We want them to experience life outside the burbs. It is imperative for their souls that they comprehend what suffering is. That they understand how incredibly blessed they are. That they have compassion. It is imperative for our souls, too.
But our return is delayed. Things have changed. Violence. Kidnapping. Murder. A war rages, and they sit...toes in the polluted dirt. Desperately needing their feet to be washed. Weary souls in need of compassion, understanding, love, prayer. Pray. Please.
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