Dear Lord, | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Dear Lord, | Previous Challenge Entry
By lisa elg
08/15/05
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Dear Lord,
I can’t get their faces out of my mind. I’ve never seen children so expressionless. They looked like zombies right out of a horror movie. They were hungry, weren’t they? While I was lounging around the resort struggling with the decision of whether or not to lie by the pool or the beach, these children were standing by the road in the scorching sun.
Please don’t misunderstand me. Lord, I am so grateful to you for my husband and the trip to the Dominican Republic. Was it your idea? You did incredible things with the landscape; powdery sand, jewel-toned water, towering palm trees. I loved being surrounded by the smell of tropical flowers, pineapples and coconuts. I loved seeing the tension fade from my husband’s face and the love that radiated in his eyes when he looked at me. I kept wondering if the island was a model of the Garden of Eden.

I even enjoyed the first half of the monster truck safari. The huge dips in the road combined with the safari hat that perched on my head made the experience so authentic that I almost wished I brought a machete and a snake bite kit. I will never forget trekking through sugar cane fields while chewing on a sliver of sugar cane. It was the villagers’ tidy and efficient huts that grounded my lighthearted attitude.

After getting the ten second tour of one of the huts by the toothless but smiling homeowner, my heart began to swell in my chest. Her graciousness, displayed in coffee and fruit, humbled me. I fought back tears as she introduced her many adult children, the Dominican Republic version of social security. The sight of my high-priced sneakers as I mounted the steps of the monster truck brought the realization that none of the villagers were wearing shoes.

Lord, it was the stop at the school that haunts me still. I couldn’t believe how many children poured out of the small, windowless schoolhouse as we arrived. They stayed behind the fence which was just as well because my arms ached to hold them. Few waved; most just stared as the tour guide explained that a portion of our fee paid for the building of this and a few other schools. The knowledge of my financial assistance was like a band-aid on a gaping knife wound. I thought of my own children at home with my parents. What if they were among that crowd? What if they stood in that sun with tummies growling, the last leg of a tour?

I don’t know what to do with these feelings, Lord. I’m angry at the imbalance, the waste, and the indifference. I feel guilty for all that I have and then a dose of guilt piggybacks the first at the thought of rejecting your blessings. I’ve always thought that awareness is the best gift that you’ve given me, but this much awareness overwhelms me. How do I continue to live each day with such a full scope of all that you’ve given me? What I have to give in return seems so meager; a fickle heart and good intentions. How can this be enough for you? Yet, in every cell of my body, I know that it is.
Thank you,
Your child

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