The last 24 hours has been a little bit of sensory overload. Charlotte and I woke up early Thursday morning to do laundry (it’s not procrastination, I promise), do a quick P90X session, then I jumped in the shower to wash my hair (which means I stood under the shower head, hair covered in soap, for a good ten minutes waiting for the freezing water to turn on- totally normal). Afterwards, we went to our last Care Points in Nsoko, came home to pack and clean, said goodbye to the friends we had made, and got dropped off an hour and a half away in Manzini to spend the night with the team here.
This morning, Kerri and Ramie and I woke up early to go to a local bakery where we got coffee and read our Bibles. When we got back, my team and I tried to force out some blogs, something none of us seemed all too eager to do (as I type this, I have several unfinished blogs and emails also open). Ramie then walked in and announced we were leaving for ministry in an hour.
Seriously, Ramie? We already said our goodbyes, and to be honest, all I want to do is go to an internet café, post these elusive blogs, and call my parents.
But sometimes, sometimes, I remember what really matters. I haven’t really spoken to anyone from home short of quick emails in two months- two more months isn’t going to kill me. I came all the way around the world to hold starving children (and I don’t just mean hungry for food), so even though I’m tired and drained and just not in the mood, I put my dirty skirt back on, climbed into the van with the rest of the teams, and allowed myself to be dropped off at a Care Point with more kids than I’d yet seen, all of whom seemed to want all of our attention.
It turned out to be one of my favorite moments in Swaziland.
About halfway through our time there, a tiny baby started running towards where most of the kids were clumped, singing and dancing, laughing and playing with Kerri and Kacie and Charlotte. As I watched this little munchkin pick up speed, her chubby little legs tripped over a root, and she went face down in the dirt only to poke her head up, sobbing. The next thing I knew, I was at her side, picking her up and cradling her in my arms, her dirty, pop- and- beans covered face buried in my chest, her little spoon covered with ants that quickly transferred to my (almost tan!) arms.
Within moments, the tears had stopped, and as her breathing slowed, I began to pray over this beautiful little girl:
I pray a blessing over this child- Your child, Lord. Write her name in Your Book of Life. I pray that You bless her today and for the rest of her life. Put people in her life to pour into her, to love her and train her up in the way she should go. Keep her parents alive, and give them the means to provide for her physically, emotionally and spiritually. I pray for her future husband, that You would protect him, that he would be a godly man, pure and honorable. Bless her with children of her own to dedicate to lives of service for You, and use her life and the life of her family to save Swaziland.
It’s hard coming to Care Points, knowing that at best we can fill these precious little emotional tanks for a few hours, but there’s little else we can do, because in the morning, they will wake up, hungry for food and love and the Holy Spirit.
And yet, at the same time, I can pray for them, pray intentionally over them, pray that they have food in their bellies, but more importantly that they have a fire in their hearts, and that God redeems their lives for His glory. He has a plan and a purpose for each one of them, and as His created children, he loves them with a fierce passion. Maybe all I can do is hold one and rock her to sleep, praying over her the whole time. But in doing that, I’m standing before the throne room of heaven on her behalf, in front of the God who loves her and has the power to save her life.
That’s what ministry is about.
Thank You for this moment, Lord. I know I didn’t want to come, didn’t want to pour out or to love, but thank You for redeeming today. Please help me to remember this the next time I’m feeling empty- that You can do so much more with me when I step out in faith, regardless of how I’m feeling, for when I am weak, then Your strength is best displayed.
