Another day. Another water run to the slums.
Marcela, Ceferino, their children - and everyone else up on the edge of the slums we have been reaching out to - use water like this to drink, bathe, and wash. Cool water in rusty barrels. It's all there is. Imagine.
"For I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink..."
[Read the whole context here. Sobering.]