He was really sweet and thoughtful, though all we did was pretty much smile at one another. We didn't even talk. But he rarely left my side as we went walking up the steep, rocky road. It was quite a struggle. The heat was nauseating, and I felt weak. Sweat rolled down my back, dripped from my forehead. My mouth was also parched. Heat stroke was approaching quickly.
I was carrying my camera equipment, which during that moment, was heavy. :P If I remember correctly, this boy helped carry it as I struggled up the mountain road. As everyone else went on, this boy walked on the other side of the road from me. We didn't talk. It's not like we could. I couldn't speak a lot of Spanish, and I'm sure he couldn't speak English. Yet he pretty much stuck by me the entire time.
He had to be around 12-13 years old. And I wonder, why did he stick by me? I was grateful for the company, I assure you. Yet it left me wondering. When we got back to the village, I don't remember seeing him again. I don't recall if he was from the village we stayed at, or from a house along side the road.
What is he going to be when he grows up?
Did he come to the service we led?
Did he hear about Jesus?
Can you imagine living in a remote village (practically on top of the world), knowing no other life then walking miles to the nearest school, washing in a creek, eating plain rice and whatever else from the surrounding jungle? Can you imagine being from a village who might hold onto tribal beliefs and listen to witches?
And never heard about the beauty of Jesus' sacrifice?
*sigh* I want to go to places like that. Basically, I "want to go where the wild things are".
|the boy in the middle, looking at us like we are crazy -- which we were. :)|