Thirty. Hour. Famine.

As I was writing this post I was trying to come up with a clever title. Something catchy, memorable. The more I thought about it the more I realized that thirty hour famine is the only title that will do. I mean really, hearing about someone not eating for thirty hours - that's a pretty good attention grabber.

Thirty hours. I watch the seconds slowly tick by. I can physically feel the energy drain out of my body; I leave it behind me. We keep going. Ten hours left. I can hardly stand up without the room spinning, the floor slips from beneath my feet . . .

Just kidding! It wasn't that dramatic. But at the same time it was, but not in the way I expected.

We arrived at the church on Friday sometime around five o'clock. I was already feeling hungry. What else do you do on the weekends except eat? Plus the fat girl inside of me likes an after school snack (more like a pre-dinner). Thirty hours without food. It was all my friends and I could talk about that day. How were we going to survive? Just like those starving children in Africa who survive every day with little to nothing in their stomachs.

We all congregated in the teen room and gave each other looks: "What are we doing here?" and "Why are doing this?" I know. For the starving children in Africa. We watched quite a few videos about children who have nothing. (What else are we going to watch a video on? Children who have everything? Uh, yeah, no.)

After being moved to almost-tears we received a card with a child's name on it. We were to be that child for the weekend. My child's name was Kasia from Afghanistan. Each child had a disability and along with that disability came a story. Kasia was in a firefight that devastated her village. She was placed in a camp with thousands of other people who had lost their homes. She has a severely damaged eye. The aid workers tell her she will never regain her vision.

In order to act out my child I had to wear sunglasses with duct-tape over one lens. I thought it would be easy, no problem. But you know what? It was really hard to see with one eye, and a shaded one at that (they were really dark sunglasses!). As I ran into chairs and people, I squinted to see what my friends disabilities were. They received limps and burnt hands and damaged vocal chords.

We hobbled down to service and waved at all of the adults who were watching us. I found my way to a chair without smashing into anyone and the music started playing. Just like any other worship service I began to sing. It's so easy to let your mind wander when you're singing. I am constantly thinking about homework that isn't finished or that guy over there who keeps staring at me. (Keep your eyes to yourself!) But since I was half-blind this time I just closed my eyes and swayed to the music. Before I knew it I was completely and totally one with the lyrics I was singing. The song that was playing was "Marvelous Light." How ironic. My favorite line from that song: "Lift my hands and spin around/See the light that I have found/Oh the marvelous light, the marvelous light." I was able to shut out the world and focus on worshiping my God. The God who loves everyone, even the starving, even Kasia.