Hard Questions

As I walk around the streets of Toamasina I am confronted every time with life experiences that I have no comprehension of - 

I see ladies selling fish by the side of the road who sit, day in, day out, waiting for a buyer. 

I see young children carrying a tray of peanuts following us along calling out, "buy one Madam". 

I see tuk-tuk drivers sitting in the rain and heat waiting for a passenger to pay the equivalent of 50c-$1 for a ride to the local market or supermarket. 

I see mothers and little children sleeping under pieces of dirty cloth on the footpath as I jog past on an early morning run. 

I see young boys climbing a ferris wheel to hang off its edge and use their weight to spin it around for paying passengers. 

I see children and ladies begging - they hold their hands out - as I walk past with my bag of shopping.

I see flooding from torrential rain that regularly floods people's homes and disrupts their lives. No insurance money to claim on here. 

I see an old lady, thinner than she should be, waiting quietly on the edge of the road, just sitting. I wonder is she really much older than me, or has her hard life made her look older?

I see tiny children banging rocks together to break them into smaller bits so their family can sell them to make money. 

I drive past the hospital and pray that I will not need to be admitted there, ever.

So many things I have never seen or imagined. I knew that poverty existed, I knew it in my head, but to see it face to face is another, unexpected place. What I am finding is that the reference points in my life experience on how to "deal" with poverty don't seem to make a lot of sense here. There is no easy fix for this.

I am an order person - I like ideas to fit, plans to be clear and to know how to deal with things. I can't see my way through this one, not easily. I can hear the clear advice, "don't give money to people asking for it - they are most likely working for someone who takes it", "don't give food to them either - they may pretend to be poisoned and then accuse you" and "think carefully about how you help - things are not always what they seem". Wise words spoken by people who have lived or worked here for many years. And yet... my heart hurts to walk past a small child holding her hand out, my heart hurts hearing a child coughing whilst sleeping on the pavement, my heart hurts for the many hard-working people I see here who earn barely enough to feed their family, my heart hurts to know that many will sleep in a shack with a only a mattress tonight (and they may be the lucky ones). 

I don't know how to respond. I see things here that I can't begin to explain or understand. I see things here that move me to tears regularly but I can't help with quick fixes. I have to go back to one place - my Heavenly Father - and ask Him. Why is this the way it is for so many people?  How can I help? I hear his whisper - "I am here, I love these ones more than you know". 

And still I struggle. I don't want my heart to be hard, but tender to God's love and care for others, open to hear his voice. I need his wisdom to know how to respond. 

This is a journey of growing in ways that I didn't really expect. I don't like not knowing what to do, having unanswered questions is not easy. For now, however, I find myself unable to find any answers other than just being present and praying.