Village Cannis

Saturday, we tested the limits of just how far the team's hearts and minds could go, how far they could stretch, and whether there was a breaking point to their love and their light.

And, God showed up.

There is a village not far from the compound, a fishing village down on the lake, where development is coming, but coming slowly, as if this were a forgotten little corner of the Western Hemisphere. Houses are woven from branches and palm fronds. Hair is red from malnutrition. Babies eat from cups of dirt. And, children run around in only a pair of underwear.

"Is it not to share your food with the hungry 
    and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter —
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
    and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?" Isaiah 58:7 

Door to door, and house to house, our kids delivered bags of rice and took in things that they had never seen before. Babies on hips and free hands carefully entertained with those of older children, they found space in their brains for new Creole phrases and used them with  quiet confidence. "Good morning." "How are you?" "This is for your family." "God bless."

Over and over. With great love. With light that poured forth to cover their fear or their discomfort. Over and over. As if they had done this, been here, all of their life.

The entire village lined up, sorted themselves by gender and age, to receive new dresses that women from our church back home had made and sent, or to receive an extra bag of rice to provide for their families. Children were released long enough to get their new dress or shirt, and then they were back. Little arms wrapped around necks. Tiny hands curled into skirts.

Piles of perfect stones were pulled out to play jacks, and a jump rope began to spin.

And, then we had to go.

Quietly, with great love pouring from their eyes, our team loaded back into the trucks, and bounced away from the lake, away from village Cannis.

And, then came the grief, the grief that their brothers and sisters were naked and hungry, the grief that this was their family that they had left behind, the raw open grief and love that meant that they had allowed themselves to truly see, to not hide from it, any of it.

Even in the hard things, we had not found the limits of their love. Because, their love was Christ's.