Today is my first day in Kathmandu. My eyes have been opened. Again.
As I was riding through the city I was thinking of you. Kathmandu is a complete haze. Smoke and dirt make up the air we are breathing. When we got out of the airplane and through the airport we all shoved into this little tiny van that was suppose to sit seven. It instead had ten.
Driving through the streets I could just imagine you looking through the windows asking questions.
Why do they wear all the same clothes?
Oh I bet it would be cool to lie down and fix a car RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD! Don’t you?
I like this kind of driving…good gracious when are we going to get out of this traffic jam?
How much honking can people do?!?
Did you see how close we were to that little girl? She was almost in the middle of the road!
Oh my! The dirt here is worse than in a tractor!
I could see you wanting to reach out to the people we saw today. I could see you kind heart going out to the old men who were walking along the streets with cement rocks in baskets hanging from their heads. I could see you wanting to jump out and play with the children who were laughing as the sorted trash or jumped rope. It wouldn’t matter what cast they were from.
And when we got to the church, my Nepal home in a way, you wouldn’t have waited to play with the orphans. Not even until dinner was over, and a trip into town to the Internet café was done, and money was exchanged, and a Hindu priest told “No! I don’t want you to put daisy dust on my head!” and material bought for native clothes.
Because your heart is still tender. Your compassion is still much like Jesus’. And there are more than just a few days that I wish I could see through your eyes.
I love you little Brother. You inspire me to be more like Jesus. Thank you for that.