I tweeted this the other day…you know…on Twitter:
And I totally believed it when I left the house. I totally believed, just like I do every Tuesday, that I was gonna go to the precario and love on these kids, play with them, hold them, feed them, and all that good stuff, and then, because I showed up, their little lives would be changed forever.
Yes. I can be exceptionally dumb at times.
It’s funny that I think I can make a difference. Laughable really. The real truth is that one stupid banana per week and a hug from a white missionary lady is probably NOT going to change anybody’s life.
No. The law of probability tells a different story. It tells me that I’m probably not making a bit of difference, and that…
…she will probably still be pregnant by the time she’s 14.
…he will probably be a gang-banger when he grows up.
…she will probably lose that smile to Meth addiction.
…he will probably end up in jail.
…she will probably not go to school past the 6th grade.
…she will probably survive by selling her body.
…he will probably abandon his wife and children, just like his Dad did.
…Probably none of them will ever leave this prison of poverty.
The law of probability says that none of these kids will remember us, and…
...they probably won’t care that we played with them.
….they probably will never know how much we loved them.
…probably, they’ll never know the power of their own love, or how it has changed my life, changed me.
The poor kids in the precario will probably never know about how they taught me aaaall about the law of probability. Because the very same Law of Probability that is trying so hard to hold them down, is the one that says a wild child, knocked-up at 17, and raised believing that all Christians were dumbasses will never, ever, ever in a million years and a thousand lifetimes, fall in love with Jesus and give up her lovely suburban life to hold urine soaked 3 year olds in the slums of Costa Rica.
I don’t do math or anything (cause it gives me hives) but I’d venture to say that it’s almost a statistical impossibility that I would be living the life that I’m living today.
So, basically, what I’m getting at is, the Law of Probability can bite me.
Because the laws of Faith, Hope, and Love tell a different story.
And I’m going to keep showing up to prove it.
When I got home that day, I tweeted this:
…because when we arrived that day, the kids swarmed us with so many hugs and kisses and I-missed-you!-Where-have-you-been?’s you would have thought we’d been gone a year and not a week. Or, you might have thought, as I did, “Good God, how unlikely is this?! That a foreigner with bad Spanish and a weak stomach could become beloved and missed to this smelly bunch of ragamuffin babies!”
And I had to remind myself that “likelihood” and “probability” aren’t words that matter to me anymore. It’s true, we may not be making a huge dent in the War on Poverty, but we are totally kicking the Law of Probability’s ass. And that’s a pretty good start…
Your turn: What is your unlikely story?