for many this is home

When I look out from where I am, on the 33rd floor of a skyscraper, in the lounge of my condo...I can see the skyline and hints of Manila Bay.  Sometimes I can even see little billows of smoke way off in the horizon's distance and I can't help but imagine the heaps of garbage being burned and sifted through by men who call themselves scavengers, many who live in the midst of it with their families in tin and plywood homes that they made with their hands.  I probably wonder everyday about the children I met there, the man who has lived their his entire 40 years, and his daughter who is now 20.  I wonder about the children and I still have hopes of being friends to the older girls... one texted me the other day, asking me to help her find a job.  I texted back, but I haven't heard a reply.

When I was there the last time, I went in my normal footwear of flip flops.  To cross through the garbage and mud was to cross through something deeper than I had realized.  I sunk into the soot like mud and could barely barely pull my foot out of the mud to make each step.  I could feel the torque on my flip flops threatening to rip them in the stretch.  I did make it through with many looking on for a moment here and there.  We walked towards the homes at the side of the garbage hills and found that a little new playground had been built.  We entered the playground and more children came...eventually the older girls came too...one carrying a little bag of cold, clear, and clean water and she bent with an enthusiastic smile and began to wash my feet as I just stood there, somewhat trapped in the language barrier, somewhat trapped in the need of what she was doing, and trapped in a good way to humbly accept what she did with happy vibrance and notable efficiency.  I would actually try much later to give her twenty pesos-- although I normally do not give money--I thought that perhaps the water did cost her something...she would actually walk back across the mud with me when I left, giving me more water to go home with and when I tried to give her the twenty pesos in return (fifty cents) ...she sincerely said no, still with happiness.  

I am left with a question--- what can I really do?  For those who pray, pray with me...really.  For many this is home.