So Many Dry Bones!

When I got home this afternoon from my usual run to pick up Sallie and Elsa, Mary had a very serious look on her face. "Mom! I have to tell you something!" I tried not to think of the possibilities. "OK," I said. "Tell me." "Carlos [a neighbor; I've changed his name, although he doesn't deserve it] was stoning Pedro [another neighbor, a man who is mentally challenged and desperately poor] today right in front of our house! Pedro was on the ground trying to protect himself from the rocks, but Carlos just kept insulting him and stoning him!"

I will add here that Carlos often mentions in conversation that he is a churchgoer; his brother is an evangelical pastor. He lives in a nice house and makes a good living.

Pedro lives with his brother and sister, also mentally challenged, in a shack. They sleep on the floor with the dogs. Pedro has an agreement with a nice lady up the road: he takes wood for her cooking fire each day, and she gives him something to eat in return. This lady, by the way, does not confess to be a Christian.

The story gets worse: Carlos persecutes Pedro because he says that Pedro is stealing wood. First of all, Carlos does not own the property where Pedro finds the wood. Secondly, I have strongly suspected for some time that Carlos himself is stealing wood from properties near ours. Thirdly, Pedro is the most humble, passive man you could imagine. He wouldn't hurt a fly. Beating him reminds me of another beating, in the Bible, of "the lamb being led to the slaughter."

Talk about dry bones! I want to give Carlos a few prophetic words ("a piece of my mind," as my mother would say). I'm sickened by his behavior and can hardly imagine him rising up to become a member of God's true army. But he wouldn't be interested in the opinions of a woman, especially a gringa. Also, I can tell that Mary wants me to do something. Surely I'm not going to allow this terrible injustice to continue! Come on, Mom!

So I have done something: I textmessaged Carlos to say that I had given permission to Pedro to gather dead wood from my property -- which I did when Pedro came around tonight to ask for food. I admit that it gave me some pleasure to do this small thing, and that part of the pleasure is in knowing that Carlos will be displeased. Still, maybe Pedro will be able to collect wood peacefully, deliver it peacefully, and eat peacefully.

I'm praying, too: "Lord, you love Carlos and Pedro, and you want them to love each other. Please breathe on those dry bones and make them live. Put Your heart of compassion in Carlos. Amen."

And those are just today's dry bones . . . What about little Sammy, left under a bed to die? And Jasmin, battling for her life in a rehab center? And Digna, who has cut my hair for 15 years, but had to run from Flor because the gangs wanted her to pay a 'war tax'?

And these are just the dry bones in my neighborhood! What about the persecution going on in Muslim countries? And human trafficking? And the drug cartels?

So many dry bones . . . I guess I'd better not retire just yet after all . . . Lord, breathe Your love and mercy and justice through Your Church, through each one of us, Your children . . .Give us Your heart . . . Amen.