Just an hour before that, I was sitting in Autumn’s office
saying “I don’t understand this [Ghanaian] culture that not only lets kids slip
through the cracks, but pushes them in there… I don’t understand this culture
that enslaves their children… I don’t understand this culture that punishes
children for being different. I don’t understand a culture where critical
thinking is basically nonexistent… And it’s not even that I don’t understand,
it’s that it makes me mad…”
I honestly believe there are enough technology and resources
in this world to create a world [a whole
world, not just a North American/European/Asian world] where children have a
chance. No, I didn’t go do research on this, but I can look at a cityscape (or
the front of a Starbucks) in Seattle or New York or San Francisco and believe
that within these areas, there is money to create change. I also believe that
without people to kickstart this change, any money is worthless. But there are
ways to make it so that they don’t have to be put on fishing boats at the age
of 7. There’s enough money to pay for these kids to eat and sleep. But instead,
we are fretting because we can’t buy our damn Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Lattes.
And that’s not to say I don’t love lattes. I crave coffee
shops all the time here… Not coffee, though I love that too, but coffee shops.
The atmosphere, the comfort, the familiarity, the conversation with Louise at
Pleasant Blends over my pumpkin muffin and caramel vanilla latte. I miss all of
that, and I am so much a culprit on this first-world-problems mindset. I even
have first world problems in Africa… My power went out about 30 seconds ago and
I want to throw my plate across the room. The menu button on my iPad is acting
up and I just shake the stupid thing because I’m mad at it. I hate black eyes
peas, and we eat them all the time. None of these things are life-or-death,
meaning they’re about as silly as fretting over a shortage of Pumpkin Spice
syrup.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve made #firstworldproblems comments
many times over the years… I still chuckle/cringe (depending on the day) over
an e-mail from Tricia while I was here that said “I just want to say as a side note that these are first
world problems...and you are the only person I have ever said that to where it
has literal meaning!”
But it’s true. Right now, I do feel the literal meaning of that
statement. I can say it as a joke… But from here, I can also say it as a cry
for open eyes.
A cry to realize that #thirdworldproblems aren’t a joke. A cry to
realize that #thirdworldproblems means #thirdworldheartache. A cry to realize
that sometimes, these heartaches are life or death. Sometimes, it means a
child’s education. Sometimes, it means the future of a family. Sometimes, it’s
a whole country in a despair they don’t even know is there.
So today, I’m mad at America and I’m mad at Ghana. I don’t
want to bash on either of them… But I want to wrestle with them.
The whole time I’ve been here, I’ve been clinging to the
line of the song Hosanna, “Break my
heart for what breaks Yours… everything I am for you kingdom come. Show me how
to love like You have loved me…”
Today, my heart feels plenty broken. Now I have to figure
out where to go from here…
But in this, I encourage you to seek out ways to make change
yourself. Seek out ways to give, both to the people around you and to people
across the world. Find a way to provide for someone, whether it be financially,
emotionally, spiritually, or physically. Find a way to other encourage people
who are seeking out this change as well. Find a way to show someone life.
No comments:
Post a Comment