Southeast Asia: We often saw her as we turned into the alley that led to the boys home. The pastor had built his home here, in a squatter community. Her house was at the end of the alley and there she sat through the day, grumbling, spitting, cursing at anyone who would talk to or even look at her. She was an angry and much forgotten woman, living in a run down shack no more then 2 meters by 2 meters in floor space, with a roof that was caving in. Now the rainy season was upon her.
That young pastor went to see his mentor/mother, who was also a pastor.
“We have to do something for her,” He said.
The band of local Christians gathered the equivalent of two-hundred US dollars. It would have to be enough.
The youth group of that local church plant used the materials that this could purchase to fix her roof and fix up her home. It didn’t take too much time for their good deed to be carried out and not long after, the woman came to the young pastor’s house…
The pastor’s mother was there that day and met her.
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The woman said, “No one ever cared for me until that young father came.” It seemed she assumed he must be a priest!
It was by chance that I heard the story about what our people had done for this one on the margins of society. Although I see the kids weekly and there are many opportunities to boast it is not their habit.
The story above also explains why more recently, when we turn up the alley to visit our young pastor we see her, the previously bitter old woman, sitting in front of her home… she waves big, smiles broad and points at the sky nodding.
