Help. I still want to help you. The world. I want to be light in a dark place. I think I may have read this in the book that I'm reading right now, but it's a good one:
Don't blame the dark for being dark, blame the light for not shining there.
So I want to help. I want to be the help. Not so that people will look at me and see the great things I've done. Not so that I will be lifted high. I want to be the help because that is what this world needs. If we will not speak for the voiceless, the rocks will cry out. Their cry will be heard over our sighs of our "problems."
"I can't afford to spend so much money on gas." "I don't have enough time to drop you off." "I can't believe I stained my favorite shirt." "She doesn't even know I exist."
Are these really problems? I want to help where there are true problems. Where people don't know where to turn. Not where people are complaining about a life that could be better, but could be so much worse.
I want to climb on the trains with these kids. I want to show them they're loved. Something brought me back tonight to when I was reading the book Enrique's Journey by Sonia Nazario. Are those kids to far away? Are they too out of my reach? Are they beyond my comfort zone? Something has to be done. Someone must tell them that they are loved. No, someone must live love for them. If all we do is tell people that they are loved, how will they know? They must see it in us. I want the glue sniffers, the traintop-dwellers, the shiverers, the orphaned, and the left-behind to know that they are loved. That they are loved infinitely more than they may ever know. I want them to be able to feel it.
Am I thinking too quickly? Are my thoughts preceding rationality? Or is that rationalism trying to convince me that I shouldn't do this? That this doesn't matter? The thing is, I know it matters. The Lord hears the cries of these boys and girls, even men and women, who are so desperate for something more. They'll leave what they have in search of something better.
I want to be an instrument.
Before arriving at church I was thinking more about waking up in a dream and how that would be but no, this is it. Though I would like to entertain that thought, if only for a bit. Have you ever thought what it would be like? Waking up in a dream? Why do we always wake up back in reality? Why can't we wake up in the subconscious world? That would be an interesting day. People flying. I would be jumping the height of skyscrapers. Talking animals. The possibilities are really quite endless. I just think it's an interesting idea. I think that's something I want to think into a little more some other time. Maybe a book or short story on such an idea.
For now, just send me to Chiapas and show me how to be the most effective. Perhaps another degree will help me meet these goals. Let's see where this goes but I'm looking for something. I don't want to stop if I'm not supposed to. If this is what I'm supposed to do, where I'm supposed to go, I may need a push. Help. Help me help.