Silly Songs with Larry
For those of you that know me rather well, you might have heard me in the past complain about how I don't have a testimony. I have no life changing awesome prodigal son story to tell people, I have no epiphanal moments to share, no words of wisdom from someone who has suffered much from life. I have only a life that has been relatively painless and benign, full of love and joy and only minor bumps and scrapes. But now I have a story to tell, because I met Jesus in an orphanage in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic. It reminded me very much of the disciples on the road to Damascus, unaware of who they were with until the very last second. You never look for God in the lowly places of this world, but after my trip to the Dominican Republic, I firmly believe that that is where God prefers to spend most of His time. I spent a week playing with little boys and girls, teaching them how to play guitar and laughing at the sticky finger prints they left in their wake. It took all that I had to wash off those finger prints, because they were so much more than just smudges. They were a reminder of where I had been and what I had experienced, and I have experienced much. It is hard to explain the change that occurs when you realize that you have been in the presence of God. We tend to think of God as this almighty powerful being who watches over all and has no tolerance for sinners such as us. We forget that God chose to come to us in the form of a child, a baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger. I spent an entire week trying to be Jesus for two hundred children, but when it was all over, it was them who had been Jesus for me. In their eyes I found a love that is beyond understanding. They had only just met me, and already they loved me more than I could ever deserve. They wanted what every child wants, and that is simply to be loved. For some of the older ones it really was just all about the presents; the candy and the flashlights and the watches, but for the little ones all they wanted was to be held. There was a little boy the last day that we were there who I sat with for almost an hour, and I just held him, and he was content simply to be held. I went there, expecting to find suffering and pain such as I had never seen before, and it scared me so much, but what I found when I got there was even more surprising than what I expected. These children whom we here in America pity were the happiest children I have ever met in my life. They took joy in us, as people and as friends, and it was refreshing to be valued, not for what I could do for them, but simply because I was alive, and I had taken time out of my life to be with them. I believe that God is very much like those children. He misses us terribly when we go away, but delights in our presence when we decide to return. He values us, as people and as children and as friends. My greatest fear is that I will get to the end of my life and it will have made no difference, that I will die and there will be no one left to remember my name. I am comforted by the fact that even if I never get the chance to go back again, I have made a difference in those little boys lives, not because I did anything, but just because I love them. I am counting the days until I can go back, and hold my little boys and spoil them rotten for another week. They have taught me to value the people around me, to take joy in friends no matter what shape, size or color they come in, and to not let language stand in the way of having fun. They have taught me to live my life as if it would end tomorrow, and to make time for the people whom I love the most.