A Letter to the Real World

Dear Real World,

You have been on my mind a lot lately so I decided to write you, I hope that’s ok. You know there has been much talk about us lately. Some think that I’ve never met you but only think of you as an abstract concept that adults make up to dissimilate a youth’s dream and drive. I respectfully disagree as you know full well I looked you straight in the face today and I’ll never be the same.

Before the sun arose this morning you were already in the car with your husband and three children headed to the clinic in Cintalapa. After your seven hour descend down the mountains you patiently waited almost a whole day for an eye operation that you would not have had if it wasn’t for the North American doctors coming to Chiapas this week. I did my best to translate for you and the doctor although you were very hesitant to speak to me in Spanish because your Indian dialect was your native tongue. Twenty-three. That’s how old you told me you were. I couldn’t believe it. Real World, you have three children and your face resembles that of a tired forty-year old. You are my age, my height, and my size but with no question you have one life very different from my own. You work in the fields all day every day with your husband. Your simple smile with a few crooked teeth hid your suffering. I knew you were scared about your surgery and that’s why I was there when you were on the operating table, stroking your dark hair as the anesthesiologist put you to sleep. When you awoke from your surgery I was also there, sitting on the edge of your cot, and I watched helplessly as you shifted uncomfortably in pain from one side to another. As you were moving around your hurting eyes caught mine and you immediately reached out and put your hand in mine and although my white skin paled in comparison to your sun-burnt brown hand, my fingers were intertwined with yours and in this moment I was a part of you. The need for food, water, medical attention, and of a Savior was as much a part of you as it was of me. And in these predestined minutes I saw your fear, felt your desire, knew your need, and for the first time really understood your reality.

Real World, you are survival. You are strong and stoic but truth be told you are lacking and I pray that as my presence continues to crash into yours that my light would illuminate your darkness. Real World after my time with you today I realized that you are not something to fear, or something to conquer, and certainly not something to ignore. The lines on your face taught me something my higher education never could. They outlined your true identity and looking back on my life I realize that I have met you before, I just wasn’t conscious of your presence in my life.

I first met you in Baton Rouge, Louisiana two years ago in a coffee shop after your ESL class. You made me laugh and feel good about my broken Spanish. I know of your situation. I know you don’t love him but married him for a greencard and it sends chills down my spine to know what he is asking of you in return for your citizenship. However, I have seen pictures of your two precious teenage girls in your homeland and with tears in my eyes I can tell you that I don’t blame you for what you are doing. I know your girls are depending on that check coming in from the States each month. Yes, Real World, this was my first brush against you and man did you ever hit me hard. Then I met you again in Madrid, Spain on a subway. It was late at night and my traveling buddy and I were making our way back to the hostel. You tried to rob me. You didn’t succeed but left me shaking and scared all the same. Real World, you know it’s ok. I don’t hold this offense against you. I don’t know where you came from or your motivations behind what you tried to do but I can’t help but think that you might not know any other way of life and I hate that. I can only hope and pray that one day you will have a reason and the freedom not to do the things you are currently doing. In Havana, Cuba I ran into you again. You were so sweet and loving as you took me into your home and gave me something to eat. My heart burned and tears sprung to my eyes as you whispered in my ear about the desperate situation that you and our brothers and sisters in Christ are facing in this Communist ruled country. The scarcity of food and lack of liberty is widespread and felt by everyone. After Hurricane Katrina you had nothing to cook for your family for three days except one old box of macaroni filled with worms. Your husband will soon retire as the pastor, leaving you, him, your daughter, and granddaughter with no place to live. You made me tremble with your stories. I have never had a God-fearing woman like yourself open up to me on the verge of tears and beg for my prayers. Real World, you see I have had all these experiences with you all over the world but it wasn’t until our encounter today in Mexico that I realized exactly who you are and who you aren’t and it wasn’t until staring you in the face that I realized that my mere existence can have an impact on you if I so let it.

My Sweet Real World, may I never become numb to your existence and need again but let’s be honest. What is awareness without action? It’s a picture of a starving boy in Africa on a wall in an air-conditioned museum. Strolling across the cold marble floors, spectators curiously approach the picture and gasp as they realize the skeleton wrapped in smooth black skin is a little boy staring back at them. Undoubtedly, the spectators are touched, their hearts burn, and maybe even a few will cry but most all if not all will walk away, pushing through the glass doors out of the museum. They will be back to their own lives and on to lunch. And the little boy will stay there on the museum wall… desolate and hungry...

Oh praise God my eyes have been open not only to your reality but my own reality. You and I are very different but you have always been the same and it was me who needed a divine wakeup call. I apologize that you were the first one to reach out for my hand but all the same I thank God that you did because I find great inexpressible joy in helping you. Now that I know who you really are in the context of who I really am I understand how I can relate to you. God willing, I will continue to feed that hungry little boy on the museum wall. I will feed that hungry little boy on the museum wall because that’s the heart of my Master. He loves you Real World. Oh how He dearly loves you!

Well, Real World, I need to go for now but let me close with this God forbid I ever forget your face. However, memories of your worn face will never suffice and besides I am sure you will not be easily erased from my mind. No, I will always see you off in the distance in my wandering thoughts, in an occasional dream, in my sporadic prayers, and in my daily life. So after today my heart’s cry is not God forbid I ever forget your face however more exact God forbid I ever stop reaching out my hand to help you.

May my God bless you and keep you and make His face shine upon you. I love you but not as much as He does.

Sincerely His,
bc