"I screamed at God for the starving child until I saw the starving

child was God screaming at me". -Tony Agnesi.

A few years ago, during the height of Covid-19 when I was working remotely and
after my wife had returned home from working as a nurse at hospitals in New York
City and Phoenix, we were invited to volunteer for a few months as a family at an
orphanage (Genesis Diez) in Ensenada, Mexico. We did a variety of things to include
construction work, caretaking of children with severe disabilities, and more. It was a
wonderful experience and we felt like we were able to make a meaningful
contribution.

A memory from that experience remains imprinted on my mind and now I know that
it helped lead us to our current mission work in Tanzania. I had just walked out of a
corner store in a small town South of Ensenada when I saw an indigenous woman
(likely from Central America) coming into the store with her two small children. Their
faces, bodies, and clothes were caked with dirt and filthy. It was apparent that the
woman had been working in the nearby fields while her young children played in the
mile long rows where she picked strawberries under the hot Baja sun. They were the
poorest people I had seen in Mexico.

Walking back to the orphanage, I was acutely aware of the wad of Pesos in my
pocket. I’ve observed extreme poverty before, but for some reason this time was
different. I felt physical pain in my chest. Suddenly, I felt compelled to turn around
and go back. I needed to know their story. I needed to buy them some food. I needed
to do something. But it was too late. They were nowhere to be found.
I heard once that if you know, then you must do. If you don’t do, then you don’t really
know. For me, this woman and her children who I walked by and then couldn’t find
represented a crossroads. It’s resultant direction ended up with our family coming to
Africa. In retrospect, however, I don’t think that that was a pre-requisite for a life
change. It just happened to be the modus operandi at the time. So, what really
changed?

I’ve seen terrible poverty in South America and Asia and I’ve seen firsthand grave
injustices perpetrated in Afghanistan and Iraq. In my life, I’ve been the perpetrator of
some injustices, but for some I’ve been the victim as well. Always, I have been at
least an arm’s reach from my feelings about such things, especially as poverty is
concerned. I know that the world is not fair. It is like the metaphor of the fat cats and
starving dogs. It is pre-ordained. It is the way things have always been. We accept this
reality with the uncomfortable conclusion that poverty has and always will exist. And
if we have a choice, then obviously we should keep ourselves and our family as far
away from it as possible.
Nelson Mandela once said in a speech:
“As long as poverty, injustice, and gross inequality persist
in our world, none of us can truly rest.”
I’m not so naïve to think that what I do in Africa or anywhere else in my life will
solve poverty, violence, or injustice. That would be like trying to throw water on a
raging fire. That being said, I lost something when I walked away from the indigenous
woman in that little Mexican town. I lost the opportunity to be kind and to recognize
the humanity of someone who matters just as much as I do under God’s great
universe. We are the same and I lost the opportunity to show kindness, no matter what
form that may have taken at the time.
It is easy to objectify situations and people. We do it to protect ourselves. When we let
our guard down and we truly see the pain of the other, we don’t just see it, we feel it
as well. And once we do, we are faced with a choice. What that choice is, I believe is
different for every human being. Not all of us are destined to be saints. If you know
me, then you know with certainty that I’ll be lucky to even escape some lower-level
form of purgatory. I’m not sure what that even means, but I thought it sounded
funny. In any case, I realize that growth for me has been and continues to be learning
how to be vulnerable with others. To risk “feeling” and to avoid the self-protective
nature of objectification. Africa is a good teacher that way. Every day affords one the
opportunity to have an open and vulnerable heart or have one that is closed. I promise
you, mine is not as open as it might appear on social media or in the pictures we post
on blogs, letters, etc. Everyday is an exercise of surrender and of letting go so that my
guard can come down and so that I can open myself to the feelings of others.
Sometimes I can do it (and it hurts) and sometimes I come out swinging (and it causes
hurt).
These 1.5 years in Africa have made a strong impression on my life, but they have
flown by with uncanny speed. For our children, who have lived much less life, the
time has been even more impactful. The main lesson learned so far? You don’t have
to come to East Africa to find mission in life. We can show kindness and help others
anywhere. That being said, I feel a certain responsibility to help others abroad. The
wealth gap is just too massive. For that reason, I’m thankful we have been affored the
opportunity in our life to do interntaional work and I am especially grateful for those
who make an entire life of service out of it. I can definitely see why so much of our
support has come from people who have lived or traveled abroad. They know and so
they must do.