dump

I am a child who fell head over heals with the garbage men when I was
young. It goes rather like this.

Growing up in the Bahamas, from 6 weeks until about 5 or 6 years old,
we relocated to Florida and, for better or worse, descended into an all
white American neighborhood. Coming from the Bahamas, I was
surrounded, from morning to night with those of color. The love I was
filled with came not only from my dotting parents but from the displaced
Africans that loved this little white girl with eyes the color of the sea.
(click to read more about Jana's early connection to dump dwellers)

I had lived on the island for a bit of time now, my time occupied
with the design and construction of Crossroads, when one day on
the way to the clinic in Sosua our driver asks if I mind going into the
dump to empty our small truck that was full of waste.

I said sure and we took the nondescript right hand turn down the
dirt road that changed my life...

It is always amazing how the Lord will bring us to the front of our own life fully lived when we think we are on
the paved highway to an agenda penciled into our own labyrinth of life.

So, the right hand turn was taken, then the winding, slow and dusty road with its bumps, garbage burning
and endless heaps of, well, more garbage and the occasional cows, dogs and pigs scrounging around for left-over
food.

Once we arrived into the thick of it, in the back after a 15
minute drive, lo
behold my very own sisters and brothers, your very own
family, in the unrelenting sun, with long sticks and torn bags
on their backs are going through the garbage looking for the
food that I was about to throw out.

If you have ever been in a garbage dump where your family is
looking for food, well, words splinter under the weight of such
an experience. With flies in my eyes, nose and combating for
the drops of fluid on my skin I continued to walk around and
try to take, at least a part of it in.

In shock, I left the dump a new person. Another born again
experience, coming around to the starting point in my long
years of chasing after God’s tailcoats, to see his glory in the
clouds and sunsets, I was now seeing that glory in the eyes of
my brothers.

It took me some time to filter and figure out what one could do.
For months, well, I did nothing. The most courage I could

muster up was to say a prayer as I drove by the dump entrance. One day I even caught myself turning my head so
I would not have to gaze at the dump entrance, the entrance into Heaven I was avoiding. That right hand turn
that saved my life, it was calling me, the voice of God, the figure of Christ standing in that right hand turn,
waving, even smiling. Like saying “Today is a good day for the Sermon on the Mount”, come on in! But no no, I
would just go home and read about it in the comfort of a chair with hot tea and a sunset to make the Bible so real.

But, I, like most, avoid the waving hand and beckoning smile from the leapers of our days. The safety of hiding in
our safe walls that we have constructed from a broken society, gives us enough comfort to finish our lives in what
we call security, safety and the joy of reading the Bible in comfort.. But something about “loosing one’s life to gain
it back again” entered into the cracks of my broken heart. Thus, one day, I took the right hand turn.. Just me with
Christ sitting in the front seat, helping me to make the turn, we regained our image together, as we traveled back to

the family reunion, unrelenting sun and competing air space with flies and
fumes.
I was frowning some, but noticed that Jesus was just sitting there smiling like
we were off to some Christian concert where he was going to be the star.
There he sat smiling and waving, acting like he couldn’t wait to get home.
I learned much that day, one thing for certain, I don’t frown any more, it
helps the journey Home.

Ever since, some 12 years now, I have found the dump a place of worship, a
sacred space and a place where my love and those that venture in with me can
share bread with the least of those who we are told will be the first.

They have made me whole and can cure you also. If you do not have a dump
in your neighbor hood, try the ghetto or food lines wherever you live.
Christ is also waving and smiling from there and the life you desire so much,
the life you have lost, will be found in those lines.
-Jana Amelingmeier