It was a sultry afternoon in Bangkok. I left my room at the comfortable missionary guest house to visit the home of WMF missionaries, Rob, Twyla, and their two year old son Toby.
Rob and Twyla live on the edge of one of the thousands of slums in this Asian city. We walked down the gravel road that separates their flat from the wood and tin shacks that make the home of nearly 6,000 men, women, and children.
I was immediately greeted by several children who walked me up the three narrow flights of stairs to Rob and Twyla's humble flat. With just two rooms- one to sleep in and one to cook, bathe, and defecate in- Rob, Twyla, and Toby have made their home together. And their home has become a place of escape for many of the children who roam the dirty walkways of this slum.
I played with the children for hours. They were so accepting of me even though I couldn't speak their language. We seemed the same-them and me- as we basked together in the warmth of innocence, love, and friendship.
But are we the same?
The children wanted to go for a walk through their neighborhood— the slum. I was eager to get a closer look at their home, so as we exited Rob and Twyla's flat I put on my sandals, but the children had no shoes to put on. I looked down at their smiling faces and was reminded that most of their teeth have rotted away. Skin and bones, many of them with health complications due to malnutrition, these children are ironically full of life.
Are we the same?
We walked down the stairs and out of the apartment building- children gently holding each of my hands. We crossed the gravel road and stepped onto a narrow concrete walkway that would be our only means of navigating through the slum.
The concrete walkways and likewise the homes are raised about two feet from the ground. Underneath sits a cesspool of sewage and garbage. This is in essence the foundation of the homes in which these children-my new friends-live.
All along the walkway and through the huge holes in the cement I can see and smell the filth beneath. But inside the shacks I viewed lovely attempts at making beauty out of ugliness. With the little these mothers and fathers have, they have made these despairing places welcoming homes. Some walls are completely covered with bright colored pictures obviously made by children. Other walls are covered with the face of Christ and His cross.
At one point along our walk I saw an elderly man reaching with a long stick underneath his house into the cesspool of waste and garbage. I quickly noticed the young child beside him. She couldn't have been more than 2 years old. Then I saw it— the bright red toy that the child must have dropped. The grandfather was trying to rescue it… it broke my heart. There's no yard for this child to play in. Her playground is garbage and her cheap plastic toy a prized possession.
As we got further into the heart of the slum, we stopped to visit an elderly woman everyone calls Grandma. The bright-eyed, loving woman has taken in eight orphans from the slum and made a home for them. As we walked through her small dwelling I noticed huge gaps between the wood planks we were standing on. Underneath I could clearly see the murky grey-green water and smell its stench seeping through every crack in the home. And Grandma and the kids think their home is one of the best in the slum because it sits on the edge by the filthy water and they say it is cooler here.
The people in this slum work hard. Many of them are day laborers selling what goods they can. Some of them are shopkeepers, maids and construction workers. But no matter how hard they work most of them will never be able to leave this slum and find a better life for themselves and their children.
Are we the same?
In a world ravaged by poverty, disease, and sin the heart of God cries out. Do we hear His cry for them and for us?
Chris and I will not travel internationally for eight months this year. We would greatly appreciate your prayers as we press into the heart of God for us and for the poor.
As always, we are indebted to you for your partnership with us. Thank you for sharing your resources and your prayers with us so that we can serve with Word Made Flesh.
Our love and gratitude,
Phileena Heuertz