Hearts Breaking Open

This is from a recent journal entry:

I am off balance.  I woke early in the morning with fantasy of how I can help.  We have been in this village about four weeks.  The person I have gotten to know the most is Henry.  I admire Henry a lot.  I admire his work ethic — he washes cars for people, especially around the bishop’s headquarters.  Sometimes he gets paid a little.  I watched him wash the car of a neighbor for more than an hour.  When I told him in our country this is called “detailing” and it costs more than $100, he was not impressed.  Henry helps all who ask and does not expect anything in return.

I admire Henry’s complete trust in God.  One day I said that I wished he could live in the U.S.  so his life could be easier, he replied, “If God wishes it, it will be.”

Henry gives lovingly and helps others and works hard — trusting that if he does what is right, God will provide.  I wish I could be that selfless.

Yesterday, as he travelled the three miles to work his maize field, Henry met his father.  This man is an abusive alcoholic, who beat Henry with a stick countless times.  He has many children with many women and has failed to support him with school fees or any other meaningful support. Yesterday he told Henry was a failure and that he would take away his maize plot and give it to another person.  Henry told this story without bitterness or anger — just as you would tell a friend of a problem in your life.

So it is I who is off balance this early morning.  I want to go to Henry’s father and tell him he is a jerk and that he is lucky to have such an awesome son.  I want to humiliate and shame him and rescue Henry.  If that doesn’t work, I want to buy the field and give it to Henry.  Then I want to bring him to Maine and set him up in an auto detailing business.  That would make me feel good.

I am fortunate that the act of helping Henry with dental work has not changed our relationship.  He does not see me as a benefactor or look for more $ support.  Henry does not have a problem this morning, I do.  My heart is broken as I see pain and need in my friend and countless others.    I am confused about how to love my neighbor.  My delusions of rescue illustrate my own self-centeredness as this discomfort seeks quick answers. This is a lesson I need to learn repeatedly.

I am the one that is uncomfortable.  Henry is still sleeping peacefully, awaiting a new dawn, and trusting God.

God grant me the serenity

to accept the things I cannot change;

courage to change the things I can;

and the wisdom to know the difference.

In our morning devotions, I shared all of this with Elizabeth, Beth and Chuck.

 Something came up in me as Steve was sharing all of this with us.  For over twenty years I lived in a retreat center training folks how to connect with God through meditation.  We opened a center in India after traveling back and forth from the U.S. for many years.  The staff was from a local village — cooking, cleaning, gardening, and driving for us.  When there was a problem in their family or the village, we realized we had a choice — to either give them what they needed or assisting them to be empowered to bring about the solution themselves.  It would have been easier to give them what they needed.  And, sometimes we did.  But, we found out that wasn’t always the best solution. 

I know how Steve is feeling.  It breaks my heart too to see the poverty and unreasonable behavior around me here, and also just around us in Sudan, Burundi, and Rwanda.  What I got from this was the picture of Jesus opening his chest and baring his Heart.  This is my prayer:

Break my Heart open, Lord — break it wide open — so that I can fully surrender into this Sacred Heart the pain and hardship all around me here and in this world. 

Thank you for opening your Heart to us as we continue to experience fully what is here in our midst.

As the Bradshaw's leave to return to Maine, we move on tomorrow to Maama Victoria's -- just one village over from here -- she operates a Compassion orphanage.  We are ready to receive another aspect of our journey here.  

More to come ...

Much Love,

Steve & Elizabeth