Monday will forever be etched in my mind and pressed upon my heart.  It took 3 separate bus rides, first travelling through the hustle and bustle of the city, then, along dirt roads ruined with potholes, each one felt as our heads hit the roof of the “taxi”.  We took a short walk along a dirt road, leading us to a narrow bridge, with muddied water running below.  Two beautiful ladies, with bright smiles exposing their golden grills, stopped cleaning in the river, and came to greet us with four kisses on our cheeks.  Their eyes spoke of complete exhaustion and little hope, yet, they welcomed us as honoured guests.   We visited three different homes, each with a sick, malnourished, child.  The lady I had come with has great medical insight and has been visiting this village for quite some time, often with her husband as well.  There have been strong relationships built with a few key leaders in this particular Gypsy village, and some degree of trust has been established.  I simply got to witness the fruit of much toiling and striving of those who have walked these dirt paths the many months before my arrival.

Although this village is heartbreakingly poor, receiving electricity only recently, and completely outcast from the larger society, one young mother, of a sick baby boy, generously served us soup and Naan bread for lunch, as her way of saying thanks.  I was interested to see what the rest of the children would be served for lunch, but I did not see them eat.  They kept busy playing outside with one another, and spent time playing in the pile of sand the older brother was using to “remodel the house” for another brother who would soon be returning home.  I stepped away from the lunch table momentarily, and joined the kids playing outside, while simultaneously trying to compose myself.

The reality is, this entire village is apart of a people group of approximately 25,000 individuals currently considered unreached. There are no indigenous believers in this people group.  I walked away from my time with these lovely, yet marginalized people, who just want you to “come, sit, have some tea with us”, burdened to pray, but excited for the many more Mondays still to come.  He needs to unveil their eyes, so that they may experience the joy of His salvation.

Next Monday, one of the village leaders has invited us to join their family at another village a ways away, as they celebrate a very important religious festival.  I am overwhelmed by the kindness of their invitation, and I look forward the opportunities, which lay ahead.

 

 

“Let the nations be glad and sing for joy…”  Psalm 67:4a