For the ones you love--you wish you could take all the suffering. You can't just stand by and watch. You want to do something--anything--but you can't. There's nothing to do to alleviate the pain. All you can do is watch. In your helplessness, you suffer too.
But God took all our suffering upon himself (a task impossible enough to do, let alone conceive). He loves us.
There should be a new KCM protocol for dealing with homeless children: sing to them, play with them, talk to them, and pray for them.
I wonder if they'll remember us. If they do: what will they remember?
August 2, 2007.
Just finished teaching.
Today I described beggars to my students: their dark faces etched with wrinkles from a hard life, the deep sorrow in their eyes, the thinning hair filled with grease and bugs, their rotting rotten teeth, their rags for clothes, and their empty palms as they plead for mere rupees. They cling onto us as we walk by. But we always walk by.
As I described this to my students I looked out into the classroom and saw the faces of my students--some had tears in their eyes, in their deadlocked stares. They were captivated, entangled by emotion. I couldn't but help pause midsentence and tilt my head up towards the heavens--and tell them, "My heart breaks too. My heart breaks every time."