Joe and I watched The Drop Box last night.
We were not disappointed.
It rings true.
I love that the camera does not shy away from the disabilities, but persists in seeking out the inner beauty of each child shown.
The film authentically portrays some of the extensive sacrifices made by Pastor and Mrs. Lee.
Sleep deprivation, seemingly a requisite for every life-and-death calling,
Crowded living conditions, with every available square centimeter of their shabby “three story lean-to” used beyond capacity,
Relentless demands of the children’s need for food, baths, diaper changes, clean clothing, comfort, supervision, interaction, recreation, medical care,
Relinquishment of Pastor and Mrs. Lee’s privacy with the necessity of outside help,
But not enough help to meet the workload,
The toll that the stress has taken on this couple,
And the inevitable opposition, so well-known to those in the trenches, so freely voiced by distant onlookers.
The entire film is lit from within by straightforward faith, single-minded courage, tender-hearted obedience, and the gigantic, passionate, devoted, sacrificial, transformative love of the Father.
It radiates an unearthly beauty that transcends the noise and chaos, the down and dirty of everyday life with disability. Every facial expression and every gesture show that the Lees understand the breathtaking honor it is to care for His children.
It is an intensely emotional documentary for me from beginning to end. But Joe and I didn’t expect God to use this man’s story to open the eyes of my understanding and tug my heart out of a spiritually stuck spot.
God, if this is what it means, I can’t do this job!
But that’s a story for another day.