The past few months we've been preparing for the School Supply Drive that we hold every year at the end of August and the beginning of September. One of my coworkers and I are in charge of calling each Amada (beloved woman we serve) who hasn’t received school supplies in past years to find out if she has a child, nephew/niece or grandchild who is studying, gather the beneficiary’s information, and give her the details of the event, until we fill the 100 spots available. It’s a long and rather difficult process that we start at the beginning of July to be able to finish on time.
This whole process has been a very difficult and overwhelming challenge for me, especially because I’ve begun to see more of the harsh reality that the Amadas are living and to hear more stories that break my heart.
We record the details of their lives in our databases to have more information about their context and therefore be able to help them better. Before calling each one, I read her story to know more about her life, to be able to ask better questions, and to show her that we know her. Some are as young as 17, while others are up to 65 years old. Most are from Quito or other Ecuadorian provinces, but there are also many from Venezuela and Colombia. Some don’t even live in Quito and travel hours by bus to come and work. Most are dealing with an illness or disability themselves and/or have a family member who is. Some have been in prostitution for just a few months, and others for decades.
What I’ve just shared is only a brief and general overview, but each Amada has a unique story. Every time I call, I don’t know what I’m going to hear. One night I spoke with a woman who told me:
“Yes, I have a grandson who is studying, but right now I’m more worried about my current situation. My landlord took all my things out of my house and put them in a garage because I couldn’t pay the rent, and I have until tomorrow to get them out of there… and I have nowhere to store them and nowhere to live… I don’t have friends or anyone here. Can you help me with that?” Her voice sounded so sad and defeated that it brought me to tears. We put her in contact with a nearby shelter and I knelt in prayer for her, but I felt so powerless not being able to do more.
Throughout my life, and especially now, I have struggled a lot with feeling like I’m not doing enough. That feeling extends to every area of my life, particularly to my attempts to love and serve the Amadas.
But God has been teaching me that He sees and values every small thing I do to love Him and the people around me with the sacrificial love of Jesus. Our world applauds big gestures and achievements, but the Kingdom of God sees what is invisible to the world and exalts the humble sacrifices that come from a sincere heart, no matter how small or insignificant they may seem.