Two years ago I went to Mexico for a missions trip. I was there for five weeks, and my team moved around a lot and did lots of different things. There were pros and cons, but that’s not what this is about. One place that we stayed was a migrant camp. The people who lived there had almost nothing, and their homes consisted of one small, dirty room. We had a room of our own to stay in for a day or two. We painted some walls and helped dig/build an outhouse, and there were always kids about to play with.
One delightful evening I went with a friend to one of our little friend’s house. Not too surprisingly we were overwhelmed with her families generosity and hospitality. We were offered cookies and beans and tortillas. All delicious. Her 2-year-old brother and I were fast friends. It all started when he slyly looked at me out of the corner of his eye. We shared treats and played with his toys. For one reason or another my friend and I had to go back to our group. He, of course, followed us. We played chase all the way back. He had quite possibly the best giggle I’ve ever heard in my entire life.
We played until the moon and stars were shining. At one point I picked him up and just held him. We looked up at the night sky and just enjoyed it together. He chattered on and on, pointing here and there to the different stars. I wish that I understood him, but it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. I still loved it all. I loved his excitement and his little laugh. That little boy, with his infectious giggle taught me something. That night I learned how to just be. It was just us and the sky that night.
No comments:
Post a Comment