Our second week of ministry my team was sent to go to Zakhele care-point. Two weeks in, we were seasoned kumbi riders and we were able to find our bus no problem. The bus rank itself is quite chaotic and overwhelming. You know those sketchy white construction vans? Yeah, that’s what we ride in everyday to our care-points. Well those vans are everywhere, I mean everywhere. After climbing thru the sea of white vans with sayings like ‘I’m Married!’, ‘Americas Most Wanted’, or ‘I’AM Gods gift’ plastered on the side, we find our bus. ‘Two Sticks’ is our destination city. We ask the driver if he knows where the care-point is and confidently he says yes. The funny thing is people just say yes even when they mean no here. But we pile in and about 10 minutes later when the van fills up we head out. Our directions said ‘Right at first light, right at stop sign’. Seems simple enough, right? Well a few lights later and multiple left turns we ask again if they know where the care-point is. I hear the driver whisper something to the man who collects our 50cent fare and then a “no”. Apparently we were just going the scenic route but we eventually see a brightly painted building ahead and lots of children playing. This must be our place. We jump out, cross the street, and open the gate. Instantly we are trampled by kids. High-fives are coming from every direction. I have now become a human jungle gym, and I love it. With a different kid holding each one of my ten fingers we introduce ourselves to the bomakes (which means grandmother or older woman) and the teachers.
After playing with the children it’s time for them to head back into the classrooms for preschool. The sound of kids chanting their ABC’s echoes throughout the courtyard. I turn around and notice that Sarah and Hannah are inside teaching. As I start to walk inside to help out I felt God keeping me outside. There were a few older kids left playing on the swing-set. Standing next to the door to the classroom was a little boy. He looked to be of preschool age so I walked over to him wondering why he wasn’t in class. He turned towards me with the biggest smile on his face and grabbed my hand. He placed my hand on his chest and I could feel his little heart beat so fast. We stood there for a moment watching the other children play ball. I felt so connected with him. I was feeling the heartbeat of one of Gods beloved children. While we were standing there I asked him if he was supposed to be in class but he shook his head no. He grabbed my hand, led me to a set of stairs and motioned for me to sit down. He told me his name, which of course I had to questioningly repeat about 5 times before I got it even close. Zelaquichawai? Sounds about right, I think. He turned towards me again and hugged me tight. The sound of kids playing didn’t make him loosen his grasp around me. He remained hugging me for about the next 25 minutes. God must have known that I really needed a hug that day J
I’ve tried to make it a point this year to make every kid I come in contact with feel loved. As I high-five each kid I look them in the eyes and I smile. I allow kids to see how many of them can pile on me before falling over. And as painful as it is I let 10 girls and boys “braid” my hair which is more like just tying my hair in big knots. As much as I want to scream in some of those overwhelming moments I just smile and hug them. I want each kid to know that they are special. I want each kid to know that they are loved. Most of these children are true orphans and don’t feel loved once they step outside the gate.
