It Can Hurt To Keep Our Eyes Open
We had a 112 degree day yesterday. At least that was the heat index temperature.
It was hot as my husband and I were driving past a row of decrepit mobile homes. We were doing a little house hunting, looking for a cheaper place to rent and these trailers were on a road we went down to get to one of the rentals.
With the cool air blowing in my face, our van’s air conditioner works quite well, I noticed that the trailer homes were very dirty and literally falling apart. They didn’t appear livable. But there was a little boy standing on the front porch of one of them. He was maybe 5 or 6 and it was quite obvious that he lived in that house. That house that was barely standing up. That house that could blow over in the mildest of storms. The only possible thing holding up the house he was standing in front of was God’s hand.
The door to the trailer and all the windows were open – they had no air conditioning – here in Florida. I wonder if they had running water.
There were some men behind the row of trailers cooking over an old grill. It would have made a moving picture. Something you’d see in a magazine or in an ad for charity. But these people were real, not just images. They are living right down the road from some nice homes. They’re living in poverty. They’re living in my community.
Has anyone tried to help them? Are they unreachable? Is it enough to just pray? This problem is so big and I feel so small.
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