I don’t know where the line is to be drawn. And maybe its a personal thing, but maybe there is a cure for all?
At home, in my little city, I don’t ever see children begging on street corners.
We once again couldn’t find our way. And as a wonderer, I’m quite okay with the wandering. To me, it is more adventure than frustration. However, the heat was too much and the resting was too little in between all that walking and sightseeing. I was encouraged to find my strength and joy in Him during my time with God this morning, and to be honest, it’s not so difficult when you realize how utterly blessed you are to be venturing around in Istanbul. This city of 13.9 Million people is beauty.
But he was possibly only five years old and would wrap just nicely between my arms for a snuggle. As we walked by with Starbucks in our bellies I looked down, and his beautiful brown eyes did too. It’s difficult to see them out during the night, and impossibly heart-shattering during the day.
And while we rest with A/C on these hotel beds, full of books and iPads I cannot help but suffer the thinking of this big and imaginative mind. Don’t get me wrong, I am blessed and this trip wonderful. I cannot believe I am in such an incredible place with very kind people. Maybe it isn’t the time or place, but could I do a single thing? We say its’ sad, they must not have social services, it hurts… but can’t I do anything? The breeze dies and the heat rises and my heart flutters while my fingers ache to move, just to be, just to act. But there are many of them and two days here for us. So I should just give up the will to do something right? An ice cream, some socks, a new shirt or some shampoo. Maybe, possibly, I just don’t have a clue.
We talked at great lengths how this concern is a ship- difficult to change and slow to turn directions, rather than a speed boat to turn in two seconds. Understanding takes patience and wisdom and care. Longevity, compassion, strong voices and gentle whispers.
Atop the lack-lustre comfort of this comforter stained bed I sit conflicted in heart and of hands. Could it start with just one? Just one young boy and one twenty eight year old girl? One day and one act? One gesture or one glance of one child in need? Or has one become insignificant? Maybe insignificant hardly describes the care these children get at home. Maybe their families are filled to the brim with kisses, snuggles, laughter and warm meals. Maybe it’s just me, but without answer or resolve I’m conflict in heart and of hands. And so I lift these hands, bow this heart and know; sparrows worth pennies matter like gold to Him.