Voice Box: remember me

September 24, 2009

remember me

I've visited orphaned children in Russia, Ukraine, Honduras, El Salvador, Ghana, and Uganda. Many moments quickly rush to the front of my memory when sparked by sights, scents, feelings. Several children stand out as spectacular proofs of God's light present in a dark world. But even with these amazing opportunities to see the unseen corners of the planet, I still easily forget.

I forget that there are those who are hungry, those who are exploited, those who are detached. I forget that if I make $30,000 per year I am in the richest 5% in the world. I forget that I have a loving family, a secure home, a good job. I forget that I (more or less) have hope and identity.

I've returned from many of my trips with tokens and gifts: stuffed animals, pictures and drawings, wristbands, fresh-picked wildflowers. One such item was given years ago with the words, 'This is so you remember me.'

Unfortunately, institutionalized children and children living in abject poverty are forgettable. Sure, their eyes, the sound of their voices, the different languages and food make for a memorable experience. But somehow, the merciless tendencies of our everyday lives choke out this memory. We suffer from a sort of compassion amnesia.

As I prepare with Julie, Sadie, and 8 other travelers to leave for Ukraine in one week with Doma, my memory is being sparked. I'm remembering that if and how we welcome orphans, widows, strangers, and foreigners has a lot to do with if and how we welcome God's covenant in our lives. I'm remembering that whatever I have done to 'the least of these' I've done to Christ. I'm remembering that true and acceptable religion is visiting widows and orphans and being unspoiled by a spoiled world. My mnemonic devices? The children I've met in orphanages and poor villages. These are my unforgettable friends.