“I tell of hearts and souls and dances... Butterflies and second chances;

The Journey

2013-03-25

Second Chances

“I tell of hearts and souls and dances...
Butterflies and second chances;
Desperate ones and dreamers bound,
Seeking life from barren ground,
Who suffer on in earthly fate
The bitter pain of agony hate,
Might but they stop and here forgive
Would break the bonds to breathe and live
And find that God in goodness brings
A chance for change, the hope of wings
To rest in Him, and self to die
And so become a butterfly.”
― Karen Kingsbury, Oceans Apart

Sometimes, in His infinite mercy, wisdom and grace, God gives us second chances.  Today I got mine.

It is few times I have tried as hard as I did yesterday to go to church and failed.  I wanted Palm Sunday and all its glory in worship.  What I got was a lesson in humility and to see a side of me that I don’t often see and I was embarrassed and ashamed of it.

I left the guest house in plenty of time, armed with the map in my head I found on the internet.  I caught the mini taxis just like I needed to, everything was going just perfect.  The mini taxi dropped me off tight where I thought it should have.  Then I realized I didn’t know which street I was on.  It turned right off the main street and as it did, I realized the road forked.  I was on the top fork, my gut told me I should have been on the bottom fork.  Not being sure, I climbed the hill to the first intersection – no street sign.  But a man asked me where I was going, I told him and he said “no – you take that bottom one”, so I climbed back down the hill – I’ve learned not to trust intersections, they don’t always take you where you think they should.  

I made my way to the bottom fork and began the steep climb up the hill again.  After about ten minutes I came to a tea shop and laughed with the guys sitting outside.  A young lady came up telling me how she was sick and on her way to church.  “Where do you go?”  I told her.  “NO, you go here” and led me off.  I kept telling her we were going in the wrong direction. “NO, NO, I will show you.  There is only one Lutheran church in Addis.” So, I followed her.  She took me straight to the Sudan EMBASSY NOT the street!!  

I told her no, this is not where I wanted to go.  I wanted STREET, not embassy, as she proudly announced, “You come tomorrow, they are not open today”.  Once again, I repeated I wanted the street, not the embassy, and I admit my patience was growing thin.  She smiles proudly and says “Lutheran Church.  I will show you.  I know exactly where it is.”  I kept telling her we were going in the wrong direction.  “it is a BIG church, I will show you”.

No, it is not a big church, and now I am lost on side streets and don’t have a choice but to follow her as she confidently walks through the streets and up to a gate.  With great pride, she announces “Here it is.  I tell you I know where to go”.  I shook my head, very aggravated and told her this was not it.  She argued she was right.  Well, I have only been in the car with Michael and Rachel so I thought it was possible that we had come through a back side I had never seen.  

She called for the guard and with a great, beautiful smile on her face announces “We are at the Lutheran Church.  See I told you it was a big church.”  I was still shaking my head in disbelief.  The guard came up as she made her announcement and said no – we were at the SIM compound.  He didn’t know where the Lutheran Church was.    And so, as we start down the hill, I look at my phone and see there is no way for me to get to the church on time.  I lost my temper and I didn’t shout, but used that very quiet voice that I get when I am pushed over the edge.  She knew I was upset and I even told her “Now I can’t go to church” as I stormed off down the street.  She happily pointed to a steeple in the distance and said “That is my church.  I go now”.

 

Half way down the hill I felt horrible!  I had done the unthinkable!  I had treated her badly and I felt bad. I felt  guilty and I was ashamed and embarrassed to admit that I had treated her so badly.  I had ONE chance to show her, an Orthodox, how Christians are supposed to act and I completely and totally blew it in my own selfish need, desire and want to go to church.  I prayed and asked for forgiveness from God and stopped dead in my tracks.  It wasn’t God’s forgiveness I needed.  

It was hers.  I turned and looked over my shoulder and she was walking on the other side of the road, the smile gone from her face, and I felt worse.  I crossed the road and stopped and waited for her.  I stopped her and took both her hands in mine and looked her straight in the eye and caught my breath as I saw the hint of tears there.

I apologized from the bottom of my heart.  I told her how sorry I was and how wrong I was.  I told her I understood she was only trying to help me and how very, very grateful I was that she had.  There was nothing I could do to make up for my harsh words or the pain in her eyes.  And so, we went our separate ways – she to her church – me to the store.

I found the main street again.  I walked the way to the store when I spotted Sudan STREET, and so, I began the steep climb up the hill again, a little less than an hour after my first attempt.  I crossed the tea shop, where the same guys were sitting and laughing at me, I kept climbing until I came to the first major street and I realized that it was 5 minutes to 11 and there was no way I could cross 5 more streets in time to get to church, so I made fatal mistake number two of the morning…I turned left at the intersection and began looking for the next place to turn left in an attempt to “make the block” and avoid the tea shop – again.

Well, as I said, I should know that you never just “make the block”, but I also learned that some days, maybe church isn’t what God intended for me at all.  Some days it is there is something that I “need” to see, perhaps a reminder that even though I felt bad because all I wanted to do was to go to church and celebrate Palm Sunday, in a way and language I could understand…that is a privilege that not everyone is blessed enough to share.  And my plan was, when I finished I would go buy some food and take it home.  That is also a privilege not everyone is blessed enough to share.

On my way to “make the block”, I was able to experience a part of Addis that I tend to forget.  Or perhaps, not forget, just prefer not to see.  This day, God showed me, up close, personal and with all five senses…the Addis that is hard to look at, and yet, in it I can see signs of hope, of love, of peace, of understanding…They are there in the poverty if you open your eyes and yourself to see.  Perhaps that is the sermon God intended for me this day.

As I walked down the road and turned the corner, the prosperity slipped away and disappeared into a pile of rubble, stones, concrete filled with sharp protruding rebar that had been parts of an old building that had been demolished.  As I passed two stone pillars that had once been a grand entrance, I heard voices from up high.  In the shadow of the branches of a tree I could just make out the bare feet of two boys perched on top; laughing as they shared their secrets.  In the distance of the block I could see where hope had begun to spring from the rubble – houses, shelters really, had been constructed along the far edges, each one sharing a wall to conserve the rubbish that was used to build them – pieces of old tin, broken bits of boards and wood, maybe some cardboard or pieces of plastic “nailed” together to form four walls.  A few had cutouts to let the sun in, with bits of tattered cloth hung to block the sun.  Some had doors constructed from bits of rubbish as well.

I heard singing in the rubbish and I realized there were women there.  They were gathering water in plastic jerry cans from the ditches in the dirt – runoff from the rain the night before.  Others were on their knees, some were scrubbing clothes and some were bathing children or themselves.  There were children playing and laughing and running and doing the things that kids do.  There were older ones playing with an old, flat, battered ball – they were the stars on the “football” (soccer to us Americans) teams, running and playing, kicking and scoring and cheering each other on with all the glory and pride and passion that the million+ dollar professional players have forgotten.  That city block of rubbish was an entire community “seeking life from barren ground”.

I rounded the corner and far from where I needed to be was met with the smell of urine on the side of the road, of young boys – street children – bathing in the water that was running in the gutters on the side of the street.  Old men leaned on their canes with their hands out – there is no social security here.  If you don’t have family you don’t have support, if you don’t have legs or you are too old, you can’t work.  There were women with children huddled up under the ragged natalas (long white pieces of cloth that they wrap around themselves) that reminded me of a hen protecting her chicks.  There were people stretched out on pieces of cardboard, just laying on the hard concrete, too tired, too weak, to full of lost hope to even care.  They reminded me of a quote I had read the night before, “he thought about Pete and some of the others he’d known.  He watched the dreams of so many die a little bit at a time, bled away by successive failures, bad luck or the fading of spirit.  For a time they’d repeat the old words of faith of hope until one day the words would be empty.” And I added, and they just lay down and went to sleep. 

In the midst of all the poverty, there is laughter, there is hope, there are smiles and little old ladies with their racks made of bits of wood with packages of gum and “soft” – kleenix – pens, and other miscellaneous items for sale who refuse to give in or give up.  There are ladies and young girls with their charcoal cookers, coffee cups and a few stools who are selling not only traditional Ethiopian coffee or tea, they are selling hope with the expressions on their faces.  There are shoe shine boys laughing with their customers and teasing each other.  There are street children playing and laughing.  They look at all the high rises with hope that someday they will live there.

You can’t see all that from the inside of a church, or from the car or taxi windows as you go racing by.  You have to get out and hear it, feel it, live it, breathe it, smell it and even taste it as all the senses combine in your mouth and throat into a distinctive taste.  So, I think this was God’s sermon for me today, a trip to see the least of these, a reminder that times haven’t changed so much since Jesus times.  As Jesus said, the poor will always be with us.  The people have gathered at the gates to the temples and churches, some welcome inside and others who haven’t met the “rules” for entry  must wait outside the gates. The beggars will always be there.   It is women wrapped in long white cloths and men with their walking sticks and canes.  It is children laughing and playing.  It is hope where there only appears to be despair.  And in the midst of it all, there is a sense of the Holy Spirit breathing life into it all.

After all my walking and praying for forgiveness for the way I had treated the girl who tried to help me, I was hungry.  I stopped at the café next to the store where I would buy my cheese to eat.  I was wrapped in my thoughts as I replayed my journey in my mind.  I suddenly realized that there was this elegent gentleman, dressed in a white shirt and coat at this outdoor café, who, with great ceremony, placed each piece of silverware on a plate after polishing it with a cloth.  He gently laid the pieces side by side with a slight bow and a tip of his head and a peaceful smile.  I looked around and realized no one else was getting such “royal” treatment. It was just one more time that I have to sit back and say “hmmmmm……”

By now, I am sure you are wondering where the second chance comes in.  Today, as I was walking in the piazza, shopping for pants that won’t fall off, I spotted her – the girl who helped me yesterday.  She looked at me and smiled and said “please mother, I am hungry”.  I smiled back, took her hand in mine and placed some birr in her hand, and said “I didn’t get to thank you for yesterday and all your help”.  Today I got my second chance to thank her.  To apologize to her and to see her smile once again.  Thanks be to God for second chances. 

God bless you.