Dirty Dishes and Divine Love

Part 3

 I have stood at the front of a speeding boat while it hit big waves. I had to grasp the edge and move with the boat or be tossed overboard. The wind pushing back my cheeks, the sea-spray kissing my skin, and the saltwater smell gusting straight through my sinuses. I felt similar exhilaration as I clung to the back of the truck bumping its way through tropical trees and melon-sized rocks. The warm wind tried to steal my hat, the leaves slapped and tickled my skin, and the damp earth smell surrounded my sinuses. 

The biggest difference, though, was my heart. In the back of the lurching truck, the anxiety parasite was blown and bumped from my heart. In its place was a warm, gentle weight that seemed to fuel my body. Perhaps this fervent joy was the effect of four days without alcohol, but maybe it was something else - something holy.

We arrived at the build site that would soon be a home for Reyna, her daughter, and her husband. We settled into the circle of introductions and prayer. But this time, Jake threw me a curveball. He said, “Pauline, why don’t you pray today ?” Gulp! I don’t know how to pray out loud, in front of people! I’m just not that Christianny. Luckily, the anxiety parasite was somewhere in the forest. I took a breath, and the warm, gentle weight formed a few simple words. 

The work commenced. The sound of shovels slicing the earth, drills keening, and electric tin-cutters chewing through steel cacoughed in my ears. I did what I could to help. Some digging, some drilling, but what really captured my heart was Reyna.

She stood in a corner of the build site just outside a ramshackle structure made from an upturned table, black plastic, and dilapidated sheet metal. Through a gap between the table and the roof, I could see a rope strung with personal items drying in the flimsy home. An electric stovetop rested on a blue plastic table just outside the structure. There stood Reyna, preparing food.

As I approached her, I had to push back against the pity and see the mom, wife, and person who was Reyna. I had to check my judgment so I could share the gentle weight on my heart. I smiled at her and said, “hola!’ She returned what seemed to be a shy, self-conscious smile. Likely, she was wondering what the big, pale woman was doing in her space. With Eduardo interpreting, I asked if I could help. I sensed self- consciousness as she looked over her shoulder at the shanty. She looked back at the stove and thought for a moment, like a mother trying to find a simple task to include a child. She said I could wash the rice. 

Reyna picked up a bowl of rice and led me to a large, concrete tub with water and a stack of dirty dishes. As she showed me how to rinse the rice, I noticed a ring on her finger. It was a simple metal ring with the Christian fish symbol. I saw this as a way to connect with her and told her that I liked her ring. Immediately, she took it off and handed it to me. I felt bad taking it, but Eduardo confirmed she wanted me to have it. I treasure this ring.

The sweltering work site was busy with workers, volunteers, and Reyna’s family. I drilled some screws and chatted with Reyna’s ten-year-old daughter. But my eyes were drawn to the stack of dirty dishes. It felt a little crazy, but in that moment, it seemed like the love of Jesus looked like washing dishes. With Eduardo’s help, I asked Reyna if I could wash her dishes. She led me back to the concrete tub and showed me how to rub a plastic scrunchie on the solid blue block of detergent, scrub the dishes, and rinse into the used water.

I stood scrubbing the plastic dishes. They were scratched with patterns long faded away. The pots were blackened, dented, and misshapen. In Canada, they would not even be used for camping. They would be thrown away. I wrestled with pity again. I was not called to judge or pity, I was called to serve and love. As I washed, I prayed over each utensil, pot, and dish. I prayed blessings and protection over the people who would use them. It was an honour to serve in that way.

After washing the dishes, I was given the task of attaching the corner trim to the house. Reyna stood watching her dream home become real. I handed her the drill so she could participate in building her home. Her smile as she drilled a screw into her home fueled the warm, gentle weight in my heart. Something Holy for sure.

Please consider helping me to return to El Salvador this November.I am responsible for fund-raising the cost of one home. The cost of the home is 4,000 dollars. I just need about a thousand more! 25.00 from a few friends and family members would mean a lot to me and the families receiving a home. Tax receipts provided by Shelter.

Donations can be made online using the link below.

Please contribute to the team, Sunwest Church –week 1, and my name where it says "Team Member." https://www.shelterhelps.com/sunwest

**Let me know if you donate, and I will send you an original haiku written with love just for you.**

The structure where Reyna's family stayed while waiting for their home. The wall is an upturned table.

a Washing Sink, or “Pila”, as it is called in El Salvador. All Pilas have a “tub” area to hold water, and one or more “washing” areas/slabs.

Reyna works as a hairdresser - she even offered to do our hair. Her husband is a sanitation worker in the city. Even with both of them working, obtaining a home was not possible - such is the economy in El Salvador. This gifted home was their only chance.

New home being built by the old.