The Price He paid.
As I sat blindly staring at the cracked dirty wall in front of me, I couldn’t help but to notice the clock hanging sideways centered perfectly on the wall. The seconds ticked by, each one representing a moment in life- never to return. Sometimes those moments pass by so quickly you hardly even realized they were yours. Other times, one of those single moment can change everything.
Life had never been easy for mama, my baby brother and I. Papa disappeared when I was just 4. He simply walked out the door one Friday evening, never to return. Mama believed for the longest time he would come back, with flowers in hand, and good explanation. But lately it seemed as if that hope was long gone. Sometimes late at night I could hear the neighbors talking outside the thin tin walls of our homes. They said papa found another woman. A city woman. They said he was gone for good.
The day of my 12th birthday mama was acting distant all day long. She tried her best to avoid looking me in the eye. She pretended to occupy herself tidying up our small home, busying herself with mundane chores. “Mama, you have washed that same cup 4 times, is something the matter I asked?” “Hush child”, she scolded. “Go outside now and bring in the cloths off the line. We need to go to the market. Today is a big day after all,” she replied, forcing herself to act cheerful. She remembered I thought to myself, as I skipped out the door. Today is going to be a good day after all! Mama remembered my birthday!
The soft golden sunlight bore down on my brown skinned face as I quickly unpinned the stiff clothing from the line. My little brother played in the dirt with two other neighbor boys nearby.
As I scurried back to the house, a stack of clothing buried in my arms, I yelled for my brother to hurry home. We are heading to the market with mama this afternoon, I bellowed.
The market was bursting with people. Everywhere you looked vendors were calling out to you working hard to make a sale. The sights and smells had a way of drawing you in and capturing your attention. “Mangos, mango’s a cinco a libra” one lady yelled above the crowd.
My little brother squeezed my hand as I clung to mamas skirt with the other in fear of losing her in the crowd. Dust blew into my eyes as we made our way through the crowded isles towards the butcher. There in front of us hung rows of meat. Every kind you could think of. My stomach began to rumble at the thought of roasted chicken.He stood behind the counter shaking his head when he saw mama approach. Her hand slipped out of mine. “No more!” his loud deep voice boomed. Mama looked down at her torn plastic sandals in shame as she began to plead in a soft whisper. His eyes turned towards me as he thrust the chicken into a black plastic bag and shoved it towards mama. “7:00 tonight” he said in a deep rusty voice, his eyes slowly looking me up and down. “We’re having chicken, we’re having chicken!” my little brother chanted as he skipped away leaving mama and I scurrying behind to catch him.
The abrupt knock at the door made my heart pound through my chest. Night had fallen on our small tin home, baby brother jumped from his seat, carelessly wiping the grease from the chicken off his lips with the back of his hand. “I will get it” he stated as lifted the latch on the warped wood door.
A large framed body appeared as the cool crisp night air entered the room. The dim light from the single bulb made a shadow over half of his rough face. He stepped inside. It was the man from the meat market. Mama grabbed my arm and looked into my eyes. “You are a woman now” her voice chocked. “You must do your part to help our family.”
She took my little brother by the hand and they walked out into the night. My silent scream filled the air as everything around me seemed to stand still. Slowly tears dropped one by one onto the hard dirt floor.
My baby girl was born on a cloudy day the middle of October. I gave her the name Mercy as I looked into her big brown eyes and promised her that we would always be okay.
What I have come to understand at Village of Hope Guatemala is that ALL life is valuable. I was sold for chicken that day but I have come to know is the truth is I was bought for a much hirer price. Jesus gave everything He had for me- the cost was high and He believed I was worth that. My childhood was taken from me but my purpose was not. God is a God of miracles, and I am one.
“Yet hope returns when I remember this one thing: The Lord’s unfailing love and mercy still continue, fresh as the morning, as sure as the sunrise. The Lord is all I have, and so in him I put my hope.” Lamentations 3:21-24 GNT
Don’t wait for a miracle when you can BE one.
