Parque infantil

It was about 4:30 when Natty and I got to the park this afternoon. It was deserted and as I sat down on a low, cement wall to watch Natty play, I noticed for the first time how sad that park can look. One of the swings was hanging unevenly while the other one had both chains broken with no seat in sight. The once colorful wooden play equipment was faded from the harsh La Paz sun and had a few nails sticking out here and there. The slides were thoroughly rusted and there was a half-dressed baby doll lying face down in the dirt. Sparse chunks of dead grass were scattered here and there with popsickle sticks and trash dotted in between. I wondered for a moment where Natty might be playing if we lived in the US. However, she didn't seem to notice that anything wasn't as it should be and happily played with rocks and dirt for half an hour or so. A lot of kids live around the park in one or two room, shabby brick houses. They come to play, usually bringing along a brother, sister or cousin that looks hardly old enough to walk. I met a 6 year-old named Jenny the other day who had the stature of a 3 year-old. She asked me to take her to the zoo and although we set up a time to meet, she never showed and I wondered if she had to cook dinner for her family or babysit a sibling. Today, as I enjoyed the last bit of warmth before fall sets in hard, I looked over to the world's highest golf course, literally separated from the park and most of Mallasilla by a deep gulf, and wondered if the folks playing there ever let their kids play in parks like this one. I wondered if they noticed our neighbor who lives in a basement without running water tending to the grounds as they putted by. He and his wife always greet us with a smile and although we share water with them and small talk, I can't say that we've shared anything terribly meaningful beyond that. Sometimes I forget, in our relatively luxurious lifestyle, how the other 2/3 live. I pray that God would continue to challenge my comfort and security and give me a generous heart toward those around me who have so little.