Project Venezuela
"Voices in my head… voices in the street...
Driving home…10pm… tired… full day… Red light.
Out the window in the middle of the street, shivering on the cold damp cement, two young women were rocking their babies back and forth trying to keep warm.
Mary: “Pull over and give them some blankets, find them some food… don’t forget there are diapers in the car… stop and pray for them!
Me: You are not here... you are in North Carolina! I quipped back. Besides it’s 10pm… tired… full day... remember? I already helped other Venezuelans today, doesn’t that count?
Mary: "if I were here, what would I say?"
Me: I sighed… you would say: "Pull over and give them some blankets, find them some food… don’t forget there are diapers in the car… stop and pray for them!
Mary smiled at herself as if justified with her invasion into my mind.
I drive on, shaking my head.… 10 pm…tired… full day…
Another voice: “I am hungry…. I am thirsty”… I am cold…”
"No, no…" I shook my head… “Lord, there will always be someone hungry, thirsty and cold!” I snapped, then shivered at the thought of who I was talking to!
My mind flashed back to the picture of the four young Venezuelans and their two infants a few blocks below… kids with babies sitting in the middle of a four lane highway asking for money at 10pm so they could get warm and find shelter for their kids.... And I am tired after eating a Double Down and coleslaw at KFC?
I jolted as a bus forced me into the parking lane.
Another voice: ... “I am hungry… I am thirsty…I am cold...”
This was not going well, I pulled into the left lane and at the next light made a U turn, backtracked the quarter mile and pulled in front a chicken place (still open… now at 10:10pm) and ordered some chicken and rice.
Me: now outside in the middle of a busy highway at 10:20 at night, walking up to two Venezuelan women with food in hand asking “are you hungry?”
Angela and Belen (not their real names): looked up shaking in disbelief, hope, and a little fear. There were no words as they eyed the food.
Jose and Andrew ( not their real names): ran up from where they were holding their cardboard signs asking for help. “Thank you… thank you” catching their breath. They gave the chicken to their wives, and ate the chaulafaun, as if it was their first meal of the day.
Back story: Only 2 days in Ecuador, these two couples had arrived exhausted after 22 days of walking and hitchhiking across Venezuela, Colombia and into Ecuador. They had no idea where they were going to sleep, and were hoping people would give them enough pocket change for the women and babies to sleep in a hostel, while they would camp out in the park.
In addition to the food, I gave them a wool blanket, diapers, and a little money for a room. After we prayed they looked up, tears caught in the reflection of streetlights and oncoming traffic, and we said goodnight. I noticed their shivering had stopped.
Driving home…10:45pm… not so tired… day now full…
Another voice: “…to the least of these…”
Weekly updates https://evhopeforvenezuela.blogspot.com/
My brother Ross is a missionary in Ecuador. He and his wife Mary mostly work with Quichua Indians-- they worked the past couple years rebuilding a church that was destroyed in earthquakes and lead education programs mostly involved in their Christian religion (I don't know which particular religion). They are on a Venezuelan project now called "Hope for Venezuela"-- as there are thousands of Venezuelan refugees walking into Ecuador enroute to many different destinations. They help them by distributing meals, blankets, clothing, diapers etc. including attending to spiritual needs- prayer and they talk to the, listening to their stories etc. They are modeling an approach that is opposite the United States Government. They are compassionate.
He crossposts his blog to his Facebook where is where I read of their experiences. Fair disclosure: I donate monthly to this mission because he's my brother and I want to support him doing love in the world.
<Backstory: he is my older brother that I haven't FtF met yet--I've just met his wife and their middle daughter when my mother was dying. When my mother was a teenager in the early 1960's she got pregnant and she was sent away to have the baby who was put up for adoption. While she tried to find out where he was after she became an adult, her path involved changing her name which complicated him finding her. He found her a year before she died. He was adopted by a couple in CT who were religious and went on overseas missions>