The God Who Comes Through Brokenness
By Sofia L., on mission in Brazil
Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy…
We have a friend named Jose. A year ago, his wife died, and since then he has been living alone with many dogs and usually spends his solitude drinking cachaça. Luzia is another neighbor who considers Jose as her father, because he raised her from a young age. She has many problems: she suffers from domestic violence, has a strong psychiatric illness, drinks a lot, and many of her children have abandoned her or are involved in gangs. Many times, when we visit Jose, Luzia arrives crying to tell him about some problem and say that she can’t take it anymore or that she doesn’t deserve what’s happening to her.
In the midst of Luzia’s desperation and pain, Jose, who has his own pains and problems, listens to her and welcomes her every day, even when she repeats the same story over and over and her situation hasn’t changed in years. I think Jose lives our mission without realizing it: he remains at the foot of the cross and although he tells her what he thinks and gives her advice, deep down he probably knows that he can’t change the situation. He can only offer his presence, welcoming Luzia into his home and heart.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled…
Manuela is a friend who lost her husband at the end of August because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and the police killed him thinking he was a drug dealer. She was left alone with her two sons and a void in her heart. The first time we visited her after her husband’s death, there wasn’t a glimmer of light in her eyes. She was absorbed in her thoughts and pain, staring at the door. At one point, her older son asked her: “What are you waiting for, Mom?” She replied: “For him to come back.” We couldn’t say anything really. Nothing was going to take away the pain or make justice. Since then, we’ve visited her more frequently and have become friends little by little.
One day we went to see her and when we arrived, she was lying on a mattress she had put on the sidewalk, drinking while nursing her youngest son. As soon as she saw us, her face lit up, she got up and began serving us clumsily, but with lots of love. She gave us a container full of fruit she was eating and said we could finish it, sent her son to buy soda because she knows we don’t drink beer, and even stood up to make space for us on her mattress… she gave everything she had with incredible generosity and, most importantly, IN THE MIDDLE OF her pain, IN THE MIDDLE OF her wounds, IN THE MIDDLE OF her weakness and humanity, because it’s through and not despite that that God’s love is manifested. We spent some time talking with her and when we were about to leave, she looked at us and said: “Thank you, because you never forget about me.”