Standing on the balcony of my flat watching the sun set, I try to take in and process all that is in front of me: I see the railroad tracks and the multicolored buildings of the city beyond. The sun sits like an orange ball resting just above the tops of the buildings, slightly obscured by the haze. I am comfortable in the warmth of the sun as the evening chill begins to set in. If only the weather could be like this year around, I would be so content.
I adjust my eyes from the sky to the scene right below my balcony: a picture of poverty. A railway slum community is directly adjacent to my building, and I feel free to peruse and observe the daily life of this community without reserve, as most do not look up to the fourth-floor balcony above them. Women are removing clothing from lines on their rooftops and carefully fold the multicolored fabrics. A man in tattered clothing is sitting crisscross applesauce on a pile of blankets watching children playing some made-up game with a piece of rope. A woman feeds one of the multiple cows in the community. Stray dogs lay in the fading rays, warily avoiding the children who often throw rocks. My eyes finally fall on a woman with a child on her hip, moving dried cow pies from the sun to a pile in the shade. I try and fail to grasp that this is her life.
Suddenly, I am overwhelmed by the overload that is this city: the constant honking and yelling (in a language I do not understand), the haze that stings my eyes and feels as though it is covering my lungs with gunk at each inhale, and the incessant pressure that weighs on my temples and chest as I gaze upon the absolute abjection in my backyard.
Then my eyes connect with a family that looks like it is watching TV: two adult women, two young girls, and one toddler stare, entranced and unashamedly….at me! The tall, white, blonde woman is the primetime show for the evening! Straight-faced, we stare at each other for a bit, then one of the girls shyly smiles and waves at me. That smile breaks my funk, and I am smiling, waving, and giggling at this cute family as they smile and wave back. It turns into a sort of game where the young girls try to get the toddler to wave at me, and every time she does, there is an explosion of giggles. The adult women alternate between watching the children and me. There are smiles all around. I realize the pressure that had caused my temples and chest to ache has disappeared, and I feel light and full of joy.
As the sun slips behind the buildings, the family slips inside, and my imagination slips into a dream of the day that I will be able to communicate with my neighbors. I dream of the day that these beautiful people will know the joy and saving power of the Savior. I dream of the day that there will be no more fear, sorrow, or poverty. But in the meantime, I lift my voice to praise the One who is present in the midst of the pain, and I pray expectantly for the restoration only He can bring.
My eyes peruse the scene again in the last light of the fading sun. Instead of despair, my heart overflows with compassion…a deep compassion for the lost and the broken. Instead of viewing them as a separate people, I identify with them, for I once was lost, but now I’m found; I once was broken, but now I am restored. Praise to the ultimate Healer!