Disclaimer: The following post is a personal piece. It
is not an attempt to preach or persuade, it is an honest attempt for me to
process my own thoughts and discover possibilities about my own future. I do
find it worth sharing however and I hope it will help articulate part of the
way I have grown and changed since coming to NPH.
To say I have learned
a lot here would be such a huge understatement. It is completely impossible to
do a thing like NPH and leave without being changed. One of the things I can’t
help but notice is how difficult it is to be passive when poverty becomes
personal. Hearing the word poverty often brings many images to mind. Right now
poverty might call to mind images of the Philippines after the awful storm that
has ravaged the country. Poverty might call to mind various scenes of
“third-world cities” with half-built cement houses, brown rivers and massive
slums. However, how often does the word poverty call to mind a face, name and
story; how often does it call to mind a person.
I know personally, it
will be impossible for me to return to my former life where poverty was a word
used in classroom discussions about low-income schools or the decline of rural
America or some distant country in Africa. I write none of this to preach or to
condemn. I write because I can’t not
speak about something that I see constantly. I can no longer cease to think
about the implications my year here is going to have for the rest of my life.
Now, when I can’t
think about poverty without thinking of the children I work with here at NPH.
Before anyone gets upset, I don’t mean that I see the children in their
poverty. The opposite in fact is true. Here at NPH our children have a
dignified life with so much more than just the necessities, they have not simply
clothes, food, education and health care. They have birthday parties, weekly
mass, they have the opportunity of higher education, they have hope that the
future will bring them more than there past. So what I mean when I say that I
can’t think about poverty without thinking of these kids is that the word
poverty is a word that now describes the conditions that drove a desperate
woman to abandon her child in circumstances so horrific I don’t feel
comfortable sharing them here on the internet. The word poverty is a reason for
the work NPH must do everyday. The word poverty describes the enemy we are
trying to fight. The cycle we are trying to break.
When poverty becomes
personal, when it ceases to be something hidden away from us and when we wake
up and stare it down in the face everyday the only option is to act. I believe
people are fundamentally wonderful, brilliant beings. When people can see what
the word poverty means, when they know the person behind the story they want to help. The want to help because
somewhere deep down, we all know that
as people we are connected to each other, bound by something greater than race,
religion or country of birth. We want to help because it is our duty as human
beings to reach out to each other and heal the wounds of our neighbor, because
despite the illusion of independence we all know that one day we will need
somebody. No one is immune from pain and suffering. Not one.
As I force myself to
think about the reality of my return to the U.S. I find myself afraid. I am
nervous because here I have something to fight against. The work I do makes me
angry, frustrated and sad. The work I do brings me joy and peace. Coming home
means a new search. It means listening to my heart and finding my vocation. It
means uncertainty; it means challenges, over connectedness and possibility.
Coming home isn’t the right thing to do and it isn’t the wrong thing to do.
Coming home is what I am going to do and somehow I have to believe that God
will guide me to my next step. I have to have hope that my “lifesong” will sing
of his love for all people and for his mercy. I hope that because my hands,
eyes, ears, mouth and feet are his to use that I will not let him down.
P.S. Don’t miss the new video below!
