Every day we pile in the back of our hostel manager’s truck and drive to Manzini. The ride is cold and we are bundled up in our jerseys and gloves. I spend my time in the truck with my head down, my eyes closed in prayer for the day, for my team, for the beautiful and wonderfully created children of Remar. Somehow my spirit knows exactly when to spark and every day the same time, the same place, I began to feel excitement and I open my eyes. We are turning the corner and getting closer to the Remar center. Suddenly the overwhelming feelings of joy, love, and excitement fill me and I can’t wait to see my babies! 
We arrive and jump out of the truck. We are greeted at the gate by a few of the older girls and some of the little ones too. We say our hello’s and walk in the house. We put down our lunch bags, some people take their computers out (the chance to get online is rare) and we begin our day in prayer. We turn on the praise and worship music and spend time in prayer over the center, over the house, over our day, over the children, men, and women at the center. One by one we walk outside as God leads and find children everywhere to love and minister to. I personally am always greeted by Snowpea, one of the 3 precious puppies of Simba, 
Simba is the beautiful mama dog at Remar. Once I have had my hugs and kisses from Snowpea, I walk around and find my beautiful precious children. Some are the same every day, and some it is the first time they see me. But we laugh and we sing and dance. There are piggy back rides and follow the leader. We play games and draw in the sand. We talk and we cry. We pray and share our hearts with one another. We share our journey and our lives. The day flies by and before I know it, the truck is here to take us back to our hostel. I give my girls hugs and kisses and tell them I can’t wait to see them again. We pile in the back of the truck and head “home”. Again it is a cold ride as the sun begins to set and the cool winter air causes a breeze across our faces. I spend my ride home the same as before. I close my eyes, bow my head, and pray. I give thanks for the children, for the day, for the miraculous, for the ordinary, for the joy, for the love, for that one child that I know has seen God today. Then I cry. Sometimes they are tears of joy, sometimes they are tears of sorrow. Either way, these tears are caught by the hand of the Creator, of my Savior. 
Our final day at Remar, we pile in the truck, and I take my position in prayer. This time it’s unmistakable sorrow that flows from my spirit and from my heart. The tears are sadness, heartbreak, and weakness. How do I tell these beautiful children good bye? How can I simply walk away and walk out of their lives? This isn’t fair. It’s not fair to them and it’s not fair to me. It’s not fair for them to fall in love with me and now I tell them I’m leaving. How do I do it? I pray for God’s peace and I wipe my tears away. We arrive at the center, I spend some time in prayer and then immediately find my children. I spend every moment I can with them and I tell them all how much I love them and how much I’m going to miss them. I say silent prayers over them as they play games and then I lay my hands on them and pray for them. I tell them I will see them again one day, and it might not be until we are in Heaven, but there we will praise and worship our Great Creator together. I tell them how much I love them. We take pictures together and dance and sing. The day is shorter, much shorter, and soon the truck is here, yet again, to take us away. We stand in a large circle and Erica and I say a prayer for the Remar Centre and for all of them there. We give hugs and kisses to all our new children and our sisters and brothers in Christ. And then the tears flow. But they are not just our tears, the older girls, the ones who try not to show any emotion and have spent the last 21 days trying to push me away, those are the girls who are coming to me hugging me, telling me they love me, and crying with all they have. They break 
completely down and beg that I not leave. My heart breaks even more. I see now that it’s not me they see, it’s Christ. I reassure them that even though I am leaving, God is ALWAYS there and that love and joy they see and feel from me, that is nothing compared to the love and joy God has for them. I pray for my sweet angels and hug them one last time. I give my little ones hugs and kisses, tell them I love them, pray over them again, and finally get in the truck. This time I sit upfront with Kim. I cry. I can’t help it and I can’t stop it. My heart is broken. She comforts me. God speaks to me. He pours His peace on me. I am yet again broken. Another piece of my heart is spread across Africa, this piece resides in Swaziland, in Manzini, at Remar with all those children.
