“We cannot look at the enormity of the problems that face the human family and capitulate in the belief that there’s nothing we can do. We have the power. It is what we do with that power that determines our worthiness.”―Harry Belafante
It’s been a good while since I’ve had time to contribute an entry to this blog. I started it as a way for people to keep up with what I was doing while traveling and living in Fran (my motorhome). Then...a little bit of life happened. Unexpectedly―I stayed in Virginia for a while. Unexpectedly―circumstances brought me back to South Carolina this Fall. Do I intend to travel again at some point? Yes. Have I learned to acknowledge and accept the “unexpectedly” in life? You bet I have.
One of the reasons I came home involved the chance to get involved with some mission work two of my good friends were doing. A local group has been focused on a specific people group in Peru for the past few years―trying to serve a variety of needs they had―of which there were/are many. Most critically and notably the need for clean drinking water and improvements in basic sanitation needs.
My mother has many...let be clear...MANY...wonderful sayings. All of which she freely shares―sometimes with, sometimes without solicitation. One of my favorites (often shared with patients with whom I work) is “the bathroom is ground zero.” She has always acknowledged via one of her “sayings” that “if that’s not okay―nothing is.” Though this phrase of hers can be extrapolated in many ways, perhaps in no greater way is its noteworthiness more highlighted than when it is used to reference independence with this task. If you have ever been sick and unable to toilet yourself independently―you KNOW how right she is. In Peru, I was particularly aware of the tie to clean water for drinking AND sanitation relative to her saying. “Ground zero” was not available―period. CLEAN water = ground zero. The issue extends WAY past not having it to drink.
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| Path to the "out house" in a village where we stayed |
Let me take you back to September 9th, 1989. Hurricane Hugo swept through the state of South Carolina. For the first time, I realized what it meant to have the privilege of drinking water, sewer service, hot showers, safe water for cooking with, and ICE―do you remember how hot it was in the days following the storm? I will never forget my father shuttling in buckets of water to flush the toilet “manually” and the disgusting thought of having to “dispose” of toilet paper in the trashcan next to the toilet to minimize the need for flushes. All of it, was a temporary inconvenience for us in the weeks following the storm.
In Peru―and many other parts of the world―this scenario is reality 24/7. This past week, I saw first hand that children and adults there are living with chronic bowel problems from parasites, Giardia, Crypto/Cyclospora , Guinea Worm disease and other tape worms. They suffer from Typhoid, Cholera, E Coli, Dysentery just to name a few.
Our group took many things to help the people we were serving that week. Some items included medicine and many other provisions to help with daily needs. The smiles...the hugs...the relationships built made the trip worth every mile traveled.
But I came home with this nagging feeling: Now what? How do I respond over the long-term now that I have seen what I have seen?
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| A child receives medical care in a makeshift clinic set up at a church |
Enter the Good Samaritan: I imagine him as he walked away from the inn where he took the man he found on the road the day before. What a day it had been...he’d found a man on the road half dead, tended to his wounds, carried him to safety for a night, fed him and nursed him (probably with little sleep for himself), but had to go own with his business the next day and leave. He made one final gesture in his good deed by leaving money for the inn keeper to carry on meeting the man’s needs when he left―and even promised the inn keeper he would come back after completing his business to make sure it had been enough money. But the parable ends without really ever telling us if the man ever got to meet up with the Samaritan later and thank him. Did the man that had been beaten and robbed ever “pay it forward” to someone else later? Did they meet on Oprah for a tearful reunion years later?
I guess we’ll never know.
What I do know is that Harry Belafante (one of the instrumental forces behind USA for Africa’s “We are the World” project) would have said that the Samaritan did not “capitulate in the belief that there [was] nothing [he could] do.” He knew he had the power to save ONE life. And what he did with that power determined his worthiness. He made a choice to act. A choice that two others before him did not make.
And so I found the answer to my question about how I should respond. “Go and do likewise” Jesus told his disciples.
It’s not often we get a chance to save a life. Heck, it’s not often we step back from our own lives and spend time helping our neighbors anymore―if we are really honest here―and yes, I am including myself. We are so wrapped up in our own “now” it’s no wonder that we have stopped hearing the cries of help from the truly needy places of the world.
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| A mother is joyful that her children will be parasite free after medication received |
Maybe the Samaritan was nobody special after all. Maybe he was not the “mother Teresa” we have made him out to be. Maybe he was just as wrapped up in his own “now” as I have been. After all, it took a beaten, battered, half dead body thrown in the middle of his path to get him to respond...a wake up call so smack-dab in his face he could smell the stench coming around the bend and he would have had to really work hard to walk around it. Perhaps I should save one of my unwashed socks from the jungle and smell it every now and again? Okay, so that is a really bad idea...but how do I keep this experience a tangible call to action to “go and do likewise?” I find myself scratching my head again...
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| Children wave goodbye upon our departure |
It’s the next day for me. Time to leave the inn now, like the Samaritan did, and go about my business as usual. Wait! Maybe that’s it...the Samaritan was just “going about his business” in the first place, wasn’t he? Perhaps, the call to act comes on God’s terms. The call to respond is the Samaritan’s choice. My choice. Our choice.
I have the power NOT to say “there’s nothing I can do” but instead to say “I am ready to serve.” And I will keep my eyes open for those in need on my path.
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| The sunsets over a village in Peru |
