I’ve got a lot of feelings. Normally. Just ask my team. The world race has turned my life into one big sob fest. In a good way . . . I think. But, for some reason, my feelings barometer was at zero. Climbing out of a bus into Swaziland late at night, my heart just wasn’t in it.
Don’t get me wrong, I was happy to be there. I was really in AFRICA. The wild, “Lion King” kind of Africa I had envisioned my whole life (cue the Circle of Life song). The wide white-toothed smiles and gentle sawubona’s (hello) from barefoot kiddos, shy teenagers and wrinkly gogos (grandmas) made us feel so welcome and loved.
A rooster crowed early every morning . . . and for the rest of the day. Red dirt roads meandered beside flat-topped mountains that went on forever. Herds of goats, little chickens and a couple random turkeys were shooed away from the food, open door and me (because I was scared of chickens but I’m a lot better now). Bucket showers were . . . refreshing . . . and too cold to happen daily, sorry about it!
I lived there but I didn’t really LIVE there. I just didn’t feel anything.
You know those sweet barefoot kiddos? They were shoeless because they didn’t own any shoes. Or their shoes were full of holes.
The beautiful gogos? Every one was carrying a baby, probably a grandchild. The parents had moved to South Africa to make a living and had never sent any money home or returned for their children.
The shy teenagers? Every single one was “looking” for a job so they could save for college. The catch is that there are no jobs. And of course, college is too expensive for most Swazis and government funding is almost impossible to get. I talked to one woman, Kwanele, who is a couple years younger than me. She wants to become a nurse. She has no job and no money for college. She’s holding onto her dream, though.
Yet I still didn’t feel anything. No empathy, no pain, no understanding. I felt so far away from the woman I was standing in front of, talking to, and I didn’t know how to bridge the gap.
So I started praying. At the beginning of the race, I asked God to break my heart for the nations. So now I asked him to break my heart for Swaziland. To help me understand. To give me a heart of compassion. To let Swaziland change me forever.
Then we were gone. We rode back to South Africa. We’ve got a few days of ministry, a Q squad Christmas celebration and then we’re taking a long flight from Johannesburg to India to bring in the new year.
I stiil felt unsettled about Swaziland. We had prayed over the country so many times. We had talked to so many people and played with so many kids. We saw the way they lived. We saw the way they loved with their whole hearts. We saw the dreams and visions they had for the future. But I was unbroken.
Yesterday morning, I was sitting on a swing, drinking my coffee and talking with Jesus. I asked him what he wanted to tell me. The image of a little orphan Swazi girl named Nu filled my mind. She was just as I remembered her: a big brown sweater, no shoes and as usual, she was so, so dirty from playing in the dirt all day. My eyes filled with tears. And my heart broke.
I actually wrote a few sentences in my journal that day, which is a strange occurrence for me unless something big happens that I want to remember for the rest of my life:
Finally got my heart broken. Cried my first tears for Swazi today. God is so faithful. He listens. He answers.
