Do you ever have memories that haunt you? Maybe haunt isn't the right word, maybe it is. I've been reflecting on some memories lately. They're good memories, the ones that are changing me more into the person that God calls me to be. But these memories aren't just memories. No, they are so much more. Theses specific ones are experiences that are changing the way I think, changing the way I desire to live, and that constantly tug on my heart. The memories are from images I saw this past summer in Gabon, Africa. I have memories that I playback like videos I can rewind and watch again until my heart is content.
There are so many, and I have mental pictures stored of them all. One picture is of bloated bellies. It saddens my heart to think of them, especially whenever I sit down to a meal, or when someone carelessly let's the words "I'm starving" run out of their mouth. It takes all I have to not go off on them and remind them they have no idea what that even means. When I see this memory I become much more thankful for the food that fills my stomach that is so easily taken for granted. I want to do so much more than be thankful, so I pray for more situations and opportunities to feed the hungry.
Another image is of a man walking around the center of town with nothing but a shirt on. This one haunts me. It haunts me because we looked into each others eyes. He needed clothes, and I didn't clothe him. I beat myself up about it all the time. It was clear what Jesus would have done in that situation, simply clothe the man. I can't tell you why I didn't. I might have wanted to avoid the awkwardness of the situation, of having all eyes on me as I approached him, of trying to explain in French what I was doing, or maybe it was because I made excuses of how my clothes wouldn't fit him, or I didn't have anything to give. But those are all false. I know that I had a pair of extra sports shorts, and they surely would have fit him as he was much skinner than I. I'll never forget what that man looks like. I couldn't if I tried. As I didn't clothe him, my prayer has been that someone will be different than I an step out to do it, and that God will continue to provide me with opportunities to clothe the naked.
The previous memories aren't so happy. But I have lots of happy ones that always run through my mind. One of them is the day that the other interns and I were at the Hope House Orphanage singing, dancing, and making fools of ourselves with the children. It was such a joyous time. The songs and smiles are engraved in my memory, and tears fill my eyes as I can see them dancing before me, trying to make up the words in English and mumble the tune along with us. We were cramped on the porch with ten interns and twenty some kids, a guitar, and an ice cooler as a drum. It was beautiful. It would be silly for me not to let these moments change me. So when I begin to think of them, I am thankful for where I am and what God is doing in my life, being mindful that I can't go back to the person I was before these memories, nor do I want to.
