Processing Africa Part 1

I don't often walk the streets of America and pass by crippled beggars.  I don't worry how my education will be paid for.  I don't pay bribes to police and government authorities who are supposed to prevent and stop corruption in the first place.  I don't walk miles to gather water in which was first bathed in and second my family will drink.  I don't sleep under a net to prevent a multitude of diseases.  I don't breath in the smoke of burning, heaping piles of trash.  I don't travel down the road smashed in a small bus of twenty-five people.  I don't live with a distant relative because my parents are dead and no one knows why. 

Every possible thing about our lives is contradictory.  Our childhood, toys, homes, way we wash, cook meals, places and traditions.  In my pleanty with parents who I see frequently, traveling in my new car alone.  In my frustrations of forgetting to put the trash at the curb to be picked up and in my endless source of clean water.  In some store not having the size dress I want.  In a dependable police force and safe environment free of diseases.  In my ungratefulness of being schooled age three to twenty-one for free. It is all the same.  One thing remains in poverty or plenty. 

Poor or rich we are relentless creatures.  No matter how drastically opposite our lives are, we are relentless.  Relentless for a creator.  Moaning for a savior.  Desperate for someone or something to take us out of our sorrows and self indulgence.  Relentless for the God who is sovereign over starvation and feasting.  Relentless for the God who as the whole world spins in plenty and need- he receives glory. 

         Photo taken in Kasungu, Africa.