Last night--after the electricity had come back on and everyone in the house was heading for bed--my sister, as she has done countless times throughout our life together, called me into her room to talk. I was exhausted due to the  m a r a t h o n  that has been the past couple of days, but I knew if she was calling me into her room before bed that it must be important. We began to talk about something that had been bothering her, which later turned into her giving me a more detailed account of her many experiences doing ministry with underprivileged children in rural and urban areas.

My sister has a gift, and I've known this for a while. Anyone who knows her well and/or has seen her with the underprivileged children she's worked with in various settings know that she has a gift when it comes to making children who don't have enough--food, clothing, shelter, protection, or love (many times, all of these rolled into a gigantic, sad combination)--know that they matter as human beings. From helping organize programs that teach children about their faith, to working to make sure those kids and others have access to food during the summer (This is important because when school isn't in, these children don't receive the free or reduced-price meals that they're able to benefit  from throughout the year at school. Thus, many of them go hungry from lack of food/nutrition during the summer.), to collecting and distributing school supplies so that these children might be able to more fully participate in school. She and the teams she works with do this and so much more for kids who need to know that love does exist in the world and that God does love them, as impossible as that must be for them to imagine with the home-life situations some of them endure on a regular basis.

As we sat on her bed and I listened to her eloquently and passionately relay to me her most recent adventure--going with a group from her church to do ministry with inner city kids in Memphis--the conditions that many children live in was made all too real for me. She told me about a little girl who had bruised stripes on her back from where someone at home was spanking her with a belt. She told me about another little girl who didn't know how to give kisses and quietly asked people, "Hold me?" throughout their days at the program in Memphis. One day while a counselor was holding this particular little girl, she asked her, "Does your mommy not hold you like this at home?" to which the little girl responded with a small shake of her head indicating that such love was not given to her in her everyday life.

My sister continued to tell me about some of the success stories about children she and others were able to reach over the course of their short stay in Memphis, but she also continued telling me about conditions of these children that she learned about during her time there. 

I finally looked at her and said, "Do you ever just have to walk away?" She seemed shocked that I would ask such a thing. "I mean, do you ever just get so overcome with emotion that you have to excuse yourself from them?" I asked. She explained to me when the little girl that told her about where the stripes on her back came from, that she had to turn her head and look at something else, as a feeble attempt to pull herself together. "We were in the middle of lunch," she said. "There wasn't time for me to get emotional." She essentially followed those statements up by saying that it's vital for effective ministry that she put aside her emotions in those situations and focus on the present, making sure that her own emotions don't get in the way of what she believes (and I believe) she is called to do, which is care for, love on, feed, protect, clothe, and teach kids about the God who loves them by being a vessel of God's love in the lives of these children.

My sister is incredible. There were many times as she was talking last night that I had to fight to choke down my own emotions and tears--of bitter sadness for the children who aren't loved or taken care of like God intended, but also of complete joy, admiration of and thankfulness for my baby sister--who, clearly, isn't such a baby anymore.

I learn a lot from B. I always have from the moment she got here. But what I learned last night is that we, as human beings, are often very good at letting our emotions get the best of us. It's hard to see (or hear about) children who haven't had a change of clothes in a week or a good meal in a week, children who have been hurt by no fault of their own, children who don't know how to give a kiss--something most of us don't think twice about--because they don't receive them in their own homes.

It's HARD. Thinking about children in need is HARD. Witnessing people on the street that clearly do not have a home is HARD. It's HARD to deal with the illness or death of a family member--our own or someone else's. It's HARD knowing that there is so much going on in the Middle East right now that we can't even fathom because many of our lives are so rich (full) on this side of the world.

Where. Where do we turn? How do we make sense of this mess? How do we go forward? How do WE, little old we, get involved and make a difference in the lives of those whose daily reality is suffering?

Do I wish I had an easy answer for you? For us? Yes. Of course, I do. However, alleviating suffering is not easy. In fact, it's overwhelming, and that's why we sometimes think that putting a bandaid on it is the best we can do. 

I tend to run away from suffering. It breaks my heart, makes me cry, and I ask God for mercy and healing and comfort and food and clean water and love in the lives of those who so DESPERATELY need these things. But then...I step aside. I don't get involved. I don't take the time to listen to what God is actually trying to say to me to move me to action in the various situations I pray about. I have no excuse for this, but after listening to my sister's devoted and faithful testimony of who she is and what she's learned from her experiences in ministry, my goal is...and I hope you will join me in this effort...to actually be still and intentionally listen for what God wants me to do in the midst of all this suffering. Everyone can contribute something--even me, even you. 

We have to be so patient and passionate about producing hope by alleviating suffering that we intently listen for the voice of the God who is still speaking. For the voice of the God who is still calling us from death to life. For the voice of God who is still telling us to move and live and act in the world so that others might actually believe there is a God and a God who loves them unconditionally.

It's a process. An intentional process. Thanks to my sister and the ways she continues to teach me and inspire me, I plan to start being much more involved in this process than I have as of late. Here's to eagerly listening for God and living out the passions that God has given each and every one of  us for providing hope and love in this world.