I have spent the last four weeks working in a South African township and I feel unworthy. Why am I so blessed with this experience? Why do I have so much? Why?
Yesterday I visited a woman in the hospital who had tried to commit suicide and the scary thing is I may have done the same thing. She had scars covering her body from a fire that killed her baby last year. I looked in her eyes and all I saw was pain. There was so much pain within her and it broke me to see something so beautiful hold so much misery. I was speechless... what could I say? Who am I to tell her its going to be okay, a rich white American who has never felt anything close to her hardships. All I could do was pray. It seems that real change only comes through prayer. Some may disagree with me and say that the house & garden we built are real change but they can rot, or collapse, or be neglected. The real change is what that lady does with them, which is sparked by the acts themselves... but we cannot control what she does only God has that influence and only through prayer can we be apart of that.
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