What if it was my son?

I'm just astonished at the way our boy is growing up so fast. I cannot believe our baby is almost 1 year old! It has been the quickest, most amazing year of my life. Of course I am totally bias, but Josiah Domingo is just the cutest, clever and quirky bundle of laughs I have ever met! I am amazed each day at every new thing he does. When he walked this month I screamed so loud he fell over! When I think of when we brought him home and he was so helpless and tiny and now he is becoming this independent little man. He amazes me. God amazes me. The way He could create and entrust me with  such a precious gift. Josiah is so loved.So very loved.

Since becoming a mummy I find that my heart breaks so much easier when I see babies and children living on the dump site and in the cemetery.A fiery voice that shouts "injustice" has been more awakened than ever. In particular when I see little boys playing naked and hungry in the mud I cannot help but think of Josiah. Every time I see them I cannot help thinking- what if it was my son? What if Josiah was born here.  As I was thinking this through I started to scribble down these words.....

What if it was my son who was born on a dump

Birthed into the filth, surrounded by flies

No milk to drink, only rags to wear

What if it was my child- then would I care?

          What if it was my daughter, who saw horrors like these

In the black of night- watched her father die

Violence and rage, gangs and pain

What if it was my child- would my heart cry for change?

Give me Your eyes Lord, eyes to really see

If I had them for a moment, my heart would change forever

Give me your eyes Lord, eyes to really see

If I had them for a moment,I'd be forever changed

          What if it was my child who had to work in the trash

Life at risk always, just to earn some rice

Injured and weakened, scared and alone

What if?What if it was my child?

 Give me your eyes Lord, eyes to really see

If I had them for a moment, my heart would would change forever

Give me your eyes Lord, eyes to really see

If I had them for a moment, Id be forever changed

Mercy- Justice

Mercy and Justice for the poor

Mercy- Justice

Mercy and justice for the poor

         What if it was me who was moved with compassion

No more words, but love in action

What if it was me who done all I could

No more talk, but motivated to help

What if it was me? What if it was me?

Give me your eyes Lord, eyes to really see

Give me them for a moment, change my heart forever

Give me your eyes Lord, eyes to really see

Give me them for a moment,make me more like You,

I made a difference for THAT ONE.

I hadn't intended blogging two nights in a row. But our darling baby son has cooperated with his bedtime schedule tonight and I found myself browsing through face book. I came  across a post on a friends page about "The starfish" I used to have this up on my wall as a teenager and when I read it tonight it just sang encouragement straight to my heart.

The Starfish Story

Original Story by: Loren Eisley

One day a man was walking along the beach when he noticed
a boy picking something up and gently throwing it into the ocean.

Approaching the boy, he asked, What are you doing?

The youth replied, Throwing starfish back into the ocean.
The surf is up and the tide is going out. If I don't throw them back, they'll die.

... Son, the man said, don't you realize there are miles and miles of beach and hundreds of starfish?
You cant make a difference!

After listening politely, the boy bent down, picked up another starfish,
and threw it back into the surf. Then, smiling at the man, he said
I made a difference for that one.

After all these years I find such motivation in these words once again.I'm thankful to read them.Sometimes we are surrounded by so many critical needs that the very thought of changing things and making any kind of lasting difference seems on the border of being ridiculous! Of course that is us thinking in the natural realm only. It's negative midset creeping in. 

I remember a couple of years back we had a journalist from a British news channel interview us. I remember as we toured him round the dump site community that he seemed almost completely untouched- impassive. I remember at the time thinking that he must have seen so much anguish all over the world that he had either become used to it or that it was a way of coping.Which ever it was Ron and I were absolutely unprepared for one of his questions that day. It was delivered in a very matter of fact and pretty cold tone;

"So do you really think you are making a difference to all thi?. Surely the situation will only get worse"

To be honest I can't even remember what we mumbled in response.We were both a little taken aback by his lack of hope.

Afterwards and on many occasions Ron and I talked about how if we were to look at the whole picture- all the needs, all the families, all the suffering and then look at what we were doing to change it, we would most definitely pack our bags and get on the next flight! I mean really, 30,000 families. We are merly scratching the surface. But if we remain focused on one person at a time.If we really commit to seeing that person standing before us at that appointed time. If we respond to the needs of that one, then we are making a difference.Are we changing the living situations of the whole dump site community?No. Are we making a difference one child at a time? I think by Gods grace alone- yes.

It's not about being the biggest charity. Its not about our work being well known. Its not about having the most high status funders or the best materials. It's really just about remaining faithful to the people we believe God has called us to. Its about loving Him first and loving that one he puts in our path.It's about being willing for your plans to be interrupted to make a difference for time and eternity to that one.

"Whoever receives one little child like this in My name receives Me." MAtt 18:5

Be encouraged today.Jesus spoke to thousands in crowds but he also shows us the most beautiful examples of how he stopped to talk and meet the practical needs of that one person.Over and over he demonstrates the importance.We all have a chance to make a differnce for that one.

Dirty Feet.

So I forgot my welly boots.I seem to have become increasingly forgetful since I became a Mama! Anyway as I was washing all the sludge off my feet after walking through the dump site it promoted a memory to be unlocked.

One of the first times I walked through the mushy toxic liquefied trash something significant happened that in all honesty kind of blew my mind at the time.My feet were really dirty with all sorts of "stuff" clinging to them. As soon as we entered the building located in the middle of the dump site a boy aged around 12 ran enthusiastically toward me almost knocking me over. His name was JP. He was a twin. His parents chose to keep his twin brother and he was left on the dump site. He ended up being raised by his Aunt who really loves him and has a great compassion for children in general. They still live on the dump site....

I was a bit bewildered at JP's excitement and wondered if he found something of value while scavenging through the trash. There were previous occasions when he couldn't wait to tell us he had found a bible and the other time a working guitar! He could hardly speak a word of English and I very little Tagalog at the time so he used gestures to lead me to a bench.I sat down. He held up his hands as if to stay "stay there... wait". So I did.

His next action gripped my heart and humbled me more than i can express. He brought a blue pale with clean water. When I say "clean" i mean not from the sewage or the street.He bent down and took off my shoes that were encrusted with a tar like substance and he began to wash my feet.

This young boy began to wash my dirty feet. When I realised what he was doing I tried to tell him he didn't have to and that I'd do it. He firmly but kindly told me with his hands to "stay". I was so humbled. This young boy had know much rejection but he also knew much love. He was displaying the character of Jesus right there and then in the middle of a dump site.He did not raise his head until my feet were spotless. He washed them with his hands and dried them with a rag. When he finished and the water in the bucket was dark brown and my feet were clean he looked up with the biggest smile.

That simple act probably never meant much to him. I'm sure he never planned to do it.He didn't stop to see who was watching. He was just moved to show kindness.

As on many many occasion there was again- the children we came to bless and help- blessing us. The ones we came to show love to- loving us.The ones we came to teach..... teaching us.

 ^Jesusrose from supper and laid aside His garments, took a towel and girded Himself.   After that, He poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet, and to wipe them with the towel with which He was girded. ^{6  John 13:4-6}

No child should have to die this way.

As I am typing every word, all that is really going through my whole being is "no child should have to die this way- crushed to death by a dump truck"

Before I came to the Philippines I had never seen a dead body.

Today I saw another....

We were walking along the cramped living conditions inside temporary housing to visit a family we are supporting.Ron and I were focused on making sure our visitors from Scotland were OK, that we wouldn't step on a child or fall over a cat or someones bucket of laundry in the dimly lit hallway.

One of our visitors said "did you see that back there"?
-"See what?"
Its a wake....

So as we  walked back to find a small white coffin. Family sitting on an old bench at the front of it staring blankly ahead. We spoke to a tear stained lady. It was her son in that coffin. His name was John Mark. He was 14.

He was 14.

He went to the main area of the dump site every day to collect materials that could be sold at the junk shop.He done it to help buy food for his 6 siblings. I'm not sure how many years he had been doing this. But 5 days ago would be his last time.

Often you can see young boys  jumping up at the dump trucks to grab the "best trash" . Things like plastic, metal and paper that they can sell per kilo. They earn on average 8-10pence per kilo.The dump trucks have a digger part at the back. It's large and heavy with vicious metal teeth that pierce into the dirt and pull out the rubbish to put inside. It's the drivers blind spot.

John Mark got caught in it while trying to grab rubbish. He died very soon after.

I'm writing this down right now because I cant sleep thinking about John Mark and his family. A child should not have to die that way.It should not be common for us to meet families who have lost children or have had children suffer severe injury this way- but it is.

It's a Filipino custom to have an open coffin for around one week. It's a sign of respect to the dead and it gives the family time to try and find money for the funeral. Everything in me was saying no. I did not want to look. We have seen children in coffins before and honestly I cant find 'the words to describe how it feels.Everytime is terrible.You never get used to it.Its just so wrong.

Today I felt like a force was physically pulling me away from looking inside, but my heart told me I should step forward to show respect to the family. So I followed my husband.

John Mark was dressed in his best white shirt and blue trousers that were a little too long for his height. He had no shoes. It was obvious that his face has been mangled in parts and that the family had tried their very best to cover it up and make John Mark looked as they knew him. I realised when I looked that I had seen him around but did not know him well. When you are faced with such tragedy emotion takes over. Ron and I stood weeping over the coffin at a life that need not have been lost. As we turned to leave we noticed a teenager who we know very well. His nickname is Boknoy and has been involved in our youth program for a couple of years.John Mark was his younger brother. Ron held him and he just sobbed with his head down. The mother began to groan through her tears as I embraced her and prayed.It would be stupid to say I felt her pain. I could not even begin to imagine the heartache.I have no idea the grief she feels at losing her son. Her heart must be torn. But as she groaned into my shoulder I felt it was a mothers groan of agony.

I felt helpless. Sometimes when you meet people with such deep grief there is nothing to be said. Such pain. Such loss. Its as simple as this- if John Mark had not had to work on the dump site, he would still be alive today.
Later my heart and mind were trying to process the situation and others we experienced that day. I have no answers. I just know it is the injustice of a cruel world.

"For He will deliver the needy when he cries. The poor also, and him who has no helper.He will spare the poor and needy, and will save the souls of the needy. He will redeem their life from oppression and violence" Psalm 72: 12-14

This verse helped me as I thought about the family. God heard the cry of the mother.His heart is moved at the groans and cries of the poor and needy. When no one else can help, he can help.

Please remember Boknoy in your prayers. He asked Jesus into his life a while back. Pray that even through such a terrible situation that he could be a light to the rest of his family.

A kiss of healing

A kiss of healing -that's all he needs

One touch from you, from our souls we plead

His broken body fixed with love

Take the shadows away with your light from above.

Abba Daddy, kiss his heart

It's been so long that he's been laid apart

Take his body, make it new

 We know he'd give all the glory to You.

Kiss his weakness, make him strong

We long to sing a victory song

A song of triumph, a sign that we've fought

A song of great thanks for the healing  You've brought

When should you give up  believing God can heal a sickness?

-You shouldnt.

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick" Proverbs 13:12