Do I want to live in a hot, shredded tent, standing all night long holding my babies so they don’t lie in the mud while rain pounds down?
Of course not, but for some reason I have found it a normal, even acceptable life for those around me. I have gotten so used to seeing the tents that they don’t even bother me anymore.
Do I want my baby boy wandering the streets barefoot, begging for scraps of food because he is hungry?
I would rather die, but kids come to me every day with outstretched hands, asking for just a bit of anything to fill their tummies, and I send them away.
I am praying that God breaks my heart and rebuilds it is a radical, passionate love for my neighbors, not as much as myself but so, so much more!