“Do as God does; let love be your guide." ~ Ephesians 5:1-2
One the other side of the Cancun’s "Ritz-Carlton," just 15 kilometers from downtown, live the city’s poorest families without electricity, running water, or other modern conveniences. Domenique’s taxi came to a halt at a stoplight that seemed to take forever. Kensie, her youngest daughter, sat close by taking in all the street commotion with intense curiosity.
A boy selling oranges appeared at the open window, begging them to purchase some fruit from him before the cab took off. His full pouch suggested he hadn’t made any sales yet that day. Domenique looked directly into his eyes, held the gaze briefly and wondered what he was thinking?
The boy’s belly had the distended look that comes with slow starvation: breakfast on good days was a mixture of sugar and water; dinner a dry piece of chapatti. The rest is what his grubby fingers can rummage through trash ditched regularly by hotels near the slums. Yesterday, he found a mango, half eaten on one side, and despite the rotting pulp, it tasted far better than anything he’d had in days. He was luckier than some.
She’s heard horror stories of homeless children forced into slavery. One boy drug himself on crutches, she’d learned, because the Master amputated both legs when he was a baby. The Master calls him his ‘premio’ beggar, because the money he earns exceeds the rest of the kids put together. All the other little ‘beggars’ secretly envied him.
It’s a morbid existence . . . but it leaves Domenique admiring their resilience under such harsh conditions. At night, no one comes to read or sing to them, or tuck them to bed. Yet, not a word of complaint escapes those dry lips . . . or ruffles those sun burnt brows. It doesn’t occur to them to question the bleak reality of their lives. They know not to ask questions or even hope for answers.
She reached for her Coach handbag. Serendipitously, another girl appeared near the window to the right. “Please help us,” she lamented as the baby on her hip bawled. As Domenique paid for the oranges at one window, Kensie handed them out to the pleading children through the other. For an instant, the world seemed in perfect balance.
Dear Lord, this is your son. I’m sad, hungry, and scared that I might hurt myself today. I think I’ve got a lot to offer in life, but I’m thinking of giving up, and coming home. Please show me Your way! ~ an Invisible Child
