Eating in the Home of Joy

Driving down one of the main highways in El Salvador, it's easy to miss the community of Milagro de Dios.  The entrance, a small dirt path, is hidden from the road by a giant billboard advertising credit cards.  But for those few who do venture into Milagro, the Lord waits to touch their hearts.

Off the main path and down a hill made steep by erosion, lives a small woman named Rosa.  She is sixty-five years old, looks eighty, and acts twenty.  There is one rule in her home that everyone who enters must adhere to.  You do not leave without eating.

My memories of Rosa are a blur of bright colors set to a background of tastes: pork, pupusas, watermelon, corn, tortillas... in my three trips to Rosa's home I ate enough to feed an entire army.  When you finally get full and decide you're done eating, Rosa is a force to be reckoned with.

I cannot remember Rosa without remembering her huge smile and witty sense of humor.  Even with tears in her eyes, Rosa remained one of the most joyful people I know.

And if anyone had reason not to be joyful, it was Rosa.  Living in a slum in El Salvador is never an easy thing, but Milagro is so poor that most of its citizens live in homes of trash; billboard scraps, suitcases, mattress springs, and sheets are all considered reasonable building materials.  Before she lived in Milagro, Rosa was renting a home.  When she missed the rent one month, the landlord took matters into his own hands.  He came, found her son, and shot him to death.  When another one of her sons came to pay the rent, he too was shot.  Her remaining seven children were forced to scatter across the country, fearing for their lives.  Recently, Rosa discovered she had diabetes.  Unable to afford more than basic health care, she has difficulty controlling her blood sugar and believes she will only live a few more years before her health fails her.

The name "Milagro de Dios" translates to "miracle of God."  Someone once asked me what the miracle of Milagro de Dios is.  It takes some searching to find it, but once you see the miracle, you cannot look away, shocked by it's beauty and strength.

God's miracle in Milagro is Rosa and her joy.  It flows from her every word and movement.  It washes over you when she laughs and tugs at your heart when she cries.  Never, in any corner of the world, have I met a woman more joyful than Rosa.

When you see such a woman, you cannot help but feel the presence of God in her eyes, her home, and her words.  Because Rosa has realized the true meaning of joy.  It doesn't come from circumstances or emotions.  Joy is our response to God's promise that we are destined for more than the crumbling treasures of this world.  Joy is the ability to praise God in the storm, through the storm, and because we know we will survive the storm.

This is the lesson I learned from Rosa.  Once widowed, dirt poor, life-filled Rosa.  Joy is not the absence of pain.  It is the act of praising God through the pain because we know that it is only temporary.

"Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy!" -Psalm 126:5