We came back from Nicaragua this past weekend. I have since walked through airports, through streets, through work and my home but I can still see the dust of Managua on them.
I don’t ever want it to go away.
You of course can’t see this but as I typed those last words I stopped for a minute.
I’ll never be the same again. I’ve breathed the air and felt the heat of the sun. I’ve washed in their water and eaten their food.
And I’ve talked with the people.
The children, the precious children have invaded my heart. Their hunger for Jesus, their poverty and sorrows, their laughter and yes, in some, their anger have wrecked me.
It is good.
We go through life unaffected by those around us. We see them but don’t know them, often don’t even want to know them. And this is wrong. It is just wrong.
We are made in the image of God and part of that image is love. We have taken that off our hearts in the attempt to protect ourselves, to shield our souls from the dangers of this world. And we are worse because of this.
The dust of Managua will fade from my shoes. The memories will fade and life will go back to normal. It is part of our humanity. It is part of living.
And the only real solution is to let the memories change me. Let them make me risk again, open my heart again, love again.