Blog : Give Me Grace

I can’t take my eyes away from the faces in this picture…every girl feels so familiar. I could walk a mile radius around my apartment building in NYC and find a dozen young mothers that look just like them. A watered down version of the beauties pictured, they are the daughters of women who crossed the Atlantic long ago. So many lives and stories colliding in a pool of personal tragedy that would make many question if mercy exists. These girls struggle and are too young to know the hurts they’ve experienced.

I see my teen-aged self. I see my daughters. Genetics and culture will always have their say and …the shape of their eyes. And noses. And the kankelon box braids and twists. Yes the box braids tell me I know these young women. I am a part of this story. Even if I’ve never been to Africa, even if, in my culturally privileged life, I’ve known nothing of true poverty.

At 17 I went to bed every night, after attending school all day, after sitting down to a warm meal, after seeing and feeling the love in my mothers eyes. My biggest problem then was where I could take ballet classes on scholarship and how to sneak out of the house wearing my sisters fabulous “new whatever”. First world problems we joke…in an effort to put into perspective the reality of their insignificance. When paired with poverty, rape, disease and war…my “problems” are barely worth repeating.

I’ve seen images of poverty. They are not uncommon. The subtle continuous narrative that portrays people of color in need is all too familiar. I’ve resisted the impact they can have on the self-esteem of children persistently mirrored a negative image of themselves. I’m tired of seeing it (it’s hard to see yourself that way) and have kept my distance because I know there is so much more to the soul of Africa.

But Mercy House was different.

I visited the Mercy House website and read about the work being done. And how two women came together to make a difference in the lives of even one young woman dealing with an unplanned pregnancy – usually the result of rape and abuse. The images were different. I saw dignity, strength of character in their smiles and demeanor. I saw their beauty as reflected in the eyes of the community that cares for them. I saw bright eyes and shea-buttered skin. These girls had neatly braided hair. Someone cared enough about them to make sure these women felt beautiful. These pictures took the narrative to another level and I could receive their message of mercy.

It’s easy to be spoiled in America. We have the very human ability to live in our safe surroundings…”us four, shut the door, no room for more”…my pastor used to say. We feel entitled to everything. We look down on others and are shamefully judgmental. Looking at life through the lens of another or walking even one step..forget the mile…is enough to silence my greedy and ungrateful heart.

My first impulse is to scream “Why?” I want to climb mountains and tear down bridges… I want to shout this wall of injustice down. Because I know the power of mercy and believe mercy is for all.

I know mercy. She’s walked through every chapter of my story. Surely she’s made connections with more than the hearts of first world girls. Surely mercy is a gift to humanity, the birth right of every child of God. The girls of Mercy House know her goodness.

Africa is complex. The cradle of civilization. The confusion of colonization. The birthplace of the American slave trade. Senseless Civil wars. Africa is complex. We’ll have to tackle the current issues in small chunks. Maybe then, we can work towards change, slowly chip away at corrupt government, poverty, famine, the degradation of women and war. Be the hands of God as we lend ourselves to service.

It’s all about one life. One life is all it takes to impact the next and then the next and the next. At Mercy House the vision is for the fullness of mercy on each individual life. “We want to be their forever family and will tailor our help to each girl’s situation. Our goal is quality, not quantity and total discipleship.” One to many.  Mercy multiplied.

This is the message of hope, the gift of belonging and the promise of restoration. This is mercy. Mercy heals,delivers….mercy sets free.

I’m partnering with Mercy House for the needs of these women. I’m helping to bring awareness to the stories of these beautiful young mothers. Their voices should be heard and because of His grace they will.

You can help. Pray. Give. Shop. Go here. and if you have the time, watch this video clip.

I’m supporting the fund raising efforts of (in)courage and hanging out with my friends at Five Minute Friday!