In the last post, I told about my concern for the squatters who lived in dilapidated shacks and lacked the ability to keep warm during the cold nights. I knew I needed others to join me in a collaborated effort to help these people. I contacted my mother and explained the situation to her. She immediately sent me two hundred dollars to buy blankets. A few other people responded, and I went shopping for blankets at the local market, where they were cheaper than in the US. I pushed back the thought that I lacked the resources to help every squatter family in San Cristobal, or every family in my neighborhood, for that matter. The story of the starfish came to my mind: A boy walked along the beach throwing starfish into the ocean. Someone told the boy that he couldn’t make a difference in the lives of the hundreds of starfish lying on the beach. The boy responded that it did for this one and he threw one into the surf (The Starfish Story by Loren Eisley). That sure put a strong emphasis on the idea to get out there and do what could be done.
I asked a Spanish-speaking missionary friend if she would join me on this missions project. We prayed over the blankets before we set out. “Lord, when each one wraps himself in this blanket, may he feel Your love. May each of these blankets provide warmth for each man, woman, or child.” We soon found ourselves going up and down the streets in my neighborhood, praying for the Lord to reveal where we needed to stop for these deliveries.
The first corrugated-metal shed housed two families, but only one family was present at this time. The mother’s name, Norma was my mother’s name. That made me chuckle since Mom invested the most in this venture. Norma had six children, and her husband needed employment. The kids shyly lined up for introductions, and the smiles broke out when we passed out the blankets. My friend shared about Jesus Christ, the Son of God, Who gave His life for us that we may have eternal life. Norma listened intently and encouraged the conversation with questions. As we departed, we assured her we would be back for more visits.
A grandmother, a girl and her brother lived In the next place. The grandmother acted standoffish at first, but when my friend started talking about the Lord Jesus, she warmed right up to us.
Only a block away stood another shack where a young brother and sister lived with their grandfather. The grandfather, confined to a wheel chair, kept shaking our hands in gratitude. I wondered how he functioned in his chair with hill-side terrain, bumps, and holes. On later days, when I walked past them, the grandfather would smile and wave his hand in greeting, just as best friends do.
Days later, resting in the apartment, I heard a knock on the door. Since we never received unannounced visitors, I peeked through the hole in the door and saw Norma’s oldest boy, Angel, holding a red rose and a plastic bag. He gave me the customary greeting—a slight hug and kiss on the cheek—as he said, “Señora, my mother wanted to give you this rose and these vegetables.” Humbled beyond words, I noticed his mother waiting by the gate with her daughter, Normita. I lacked the ability to speak the language, but I could communicate in other ways, so I motioned for her to come in. God truly blessed me that day as I looked at the squash, oranges, lemons, and a package of store-bought cupcakes. These were gifts, to show how much they appreciated the gift of blankets. I saw them as sacrifices to say thank you.
Over the years, I have seen what collaboration can do in missions projects. It could be as large as building a duplex in an orphanage, paying for the operation of a child or as small as donating a box of diapers. It’s amazing to see the number of people, who step forward and say they want to help. Being involved in helping others is a big part of God’s plan and purpose for us. How would you feel, to look out your door and see Angel bearing gifts just for you?
