passing by

I was reading this post on a friend's blog, and my heart was really touched by her thoughts. She said I could share them with you here, but requested that I not link to her blog.

Thoughts while driving through Southern Morocco

Zipping by in my climate-controlled shiny silver-mobile, I catch a glimpse of you - an old, bent-over woman battling the icy winds.

We pass you by.

Riding in a car full to the brim with suitcases, books, people, car seats and more, I avoid your eyes as you stand on the road, carrying a heavy load of firewood - hoping for a ride.

We pass you by.

Going on, I stuff my face with snacks, and barely notice you, little one, holding out walnuts or weeds (for tea?) – hollering at me to buy.

We pass you by.

In a tourist-frequented village, we rest in the shade, glugging our filtered, bottled, super-clean spring drinking water down as you stumble past us under the weight of two huge jugs of muddy river water.

I watch you pass.

Back in the car - dreaming of the hot showers we will have to wash away one day’s dirt, we dodge a little boy in the road who can’t even remember being clean.

We pass him by.

Changing our cold, wet socks and shoes for fresh clean ones, I catch your eye as you wade through the freezing stream because your bridge was washed away in a flash flood. 

We pass you by.

Planning to do multiple loads of laundry the minute we get home, I look up through the window and see you – precariously perched on the edge of a cliff, laying your clothes out on the rocks to dry.

We pass you by.

With pockets and a bank full of money, we haggle with you, our tour guide, who is trying to rip us off by charging an extra four dollars.

I can hardly wait to pass you by.

Our girls, carsick from reading too much, gaze out the window at grubby girls their age, babies on hips, who will never own one book.

We pass them by.

Explaining God’s love for us yet again to our questioning children, we drive through an entire village who has not heard this once.

We pass them by.

It’s not that I don’t want to help. It’s not that I don’t want to make a difference. We even try to do little things for people along the way. But there are so many on every single kilometer of road. I’m overwhelmed. If I got out of the car in even one tiny village, we’d never get home. After all, we are on a tight schedule. Where would I start? Where would it end? My heart is heavy.

But You – You got out of the car. You sheltered us, lifted the firewood off of our backs, and gave us bread and water surging with life. You cleaned us up and then gave us new clothes to wear. Your words were so simple that it was the illiterate who understood first. And you poured treasures and love into our hearts. 

You stepped out of the car so long that you spent your entire life here. And most amazing of all – you even made a way for us to go where you go. And be where you are.

You did not pass us by.

Doesn't this put our daily hassles & inconveniences into perspective?  

It's so easy in American culture to get wrapped up in ourselves, and yet we can see similar scenarios here in our homeland if we just open our eyes.  

If Jesus had passed us by, where would we be? 

But He couldn't. 

And He didn't. 

And we are His.