I mentioned to a friend that it's even hard carrying on conversations. I hear others throw out simple gripes and complaints - many of which I once said myself. How can I help a friend decide what shade of paint they should pick, or the cutest new boots for Fall, when I know a girl living in a home made of cardboard and tarp {during their rainy season, I might add} and I can count on one hand how many little ones I saw actually wearing shoes.
But that was before.
This is now. In my life post-Nicaragua, I can't handle hearing people so blessed complain and gripe about such minor things.
"I'm starving to death. I wonder what they have in the cafeteria." I heard this the other morning and it was all I could do not to start 'preaching' at them.
You are not starving. I have looked into the eyes of a grandmother who has spent the last two days at the dump with her small grandchildren trying to scavenge for food. I have handed this same sweet family a simple plate of rice and beans- knowing this one meal may be all they receive for several more days.
I have seen five year olds who are nearly the same size as my small-for-her-age two year old daugther.
You, my dear friends in the Estados Unidos, are far from starving.
I came across this video a few minutes ago and had to share. Hearing such complaints and gripes over trivial stuff, compared to the true needs of friends I know just a short 3 hour plane ride away, make it so hard to just fall right back into life here.
Wait. Nevermind. I don't want to just fall back into my old life. I cannot. I've been changed and I've seen unbelievale suffering. I've drawn lines in the sand- my eyes have been opened- and there is absolutely no going back.
I'm still trying to navigate being here when my head and my heart are with the beautiful brown-skinned people in a tiny barrio called Tomas Borjae.
Let's open our eyes, friends.
Better still, let's open our hearts. Wide.
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