On March 25th my mom arrived in Swaziland for PVT! PVT stands for Parent Vision Trip, and is basically exactly what it sounds like. My mom flew out to Africa for about five days to see what life on the field is like and experience what I’ve been doing for the past seven months. We went to Care Points, planted trees, and got to hang out with each other and some of my squadmates and their parents. It was a really great week! I asked my mom to write a blog about her experiences and so here it is– enjoy!
I don’t even know her name. This little child, no more than 4 years old by appearances, became my friend for a few hours one afternoon at the Care Point I was assigned to. Wide soulful eyes, beautiful dark skin, she attached herself to me with little prompting from myself. I lifted her up to the monkey bars, lifted her down, up, down, up, down again. I lost count of how many times. And she never grew tired of it. She caressed the ring on my finger, played with my glasses, fingered my elbows. We played group games and skipped together under the arch of arms as everyone sang. Other times she just sat. On my lap. Watching. Content to just be there. Comforted by the touch of another human being.
Who is this precious child? The silent one but yet content. The one with the pink sandals that don’t buckle. The one clad in a sweat suit so desperate to be laundered. I was privileged to get a tiny glimpse of her life that afternoon, yet I haven’t a clue as to what her story is. What sorrows linger behind those eyes? What pain weighs upon her little body? One thing I do know is that she is beloved of God. That is certain. And we can be sure that her Father in Heaven knows her intimately. And He weeps.
She began her walk ‘home’ at 5 pm after a long day in the sun. I don’t know how long she would walk. Half an hour, an hour? It’s possible, even probable. Where is her home? Is it her home? Does she have parents or is she living with someone who, out of kindness and perhaps necessity, has taken her into their home since her own parents are no longer living? Will she eat tonight? If so, what will fill her belly, if it’s filled at all? What will she do between her arrival home and going to bed? Does she even have a bed? Perhaps she’ll have chores to do. Perhaps she’ll have nothing to do. Maybe she’ll just sit, as she sat at the Care Point, watching and waiting – and for what? So many questions….
One child of many. So many it’s hard to comprehend. In a country as small as Rhode Island, ravaged by AIDs with the highest HIV prevalence in the world, the number of orphans and vulnerable children is astounding. Around 62% of the population are under the age of 15 and only 5% are aged 60 and over. Consider the impact on families. Consider the impact on the productive workforce age range. Consider the impact on the elderly, having to care for the children. Consider the impact on the already existing poverty.
So now what? What do I do with this? I’m back home, catching up on sleep, resuming my teaching and my routine, settling into my nice little bubble. Don’t get me wrong, I love my life, my work, and am so grateful for the niceties I experience daily. But what about her? Now I’ve met her face to face, how do I go back to ‘normal?’
In many ways my life will go on as usual. Yet change must come, and it will come from within. Through my attitudes, my choices, my perspective on everything, how I see people, how I treat them, my sense of entitlement, my awareness of the privileges I have. These are the obvious ones. There will be more as I continue to process my time in Swaziland. I pray the inner changes will manifest outwardly in time as I seek simplicity, advocate more for vulnerable children, deal with the excess in my own life, and become more mindful of how God asks us to live our lives no matter where we live: whether in the suburbs of the affluent west, or in the rural communities of Swaziland. And it is this: “To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God” Micah 6:8b.
It is a journey for all of us. We are a forgetful people, caught up in the deceitfulness of the human heart, the temptations of our culture and the tantalizing desires that bombard us daily. Last week I was privileged to step away from these things (albeit not the deceitfulness of the heart. Unfortunately that goes with me no matter how far I travel!). And I caught a glimpse of another world. Not one that is just or right – far from it. But one that has made me stop, think, ponder, consider, reflect, repent – and one that ultimately I must respond to.
I must remember the children. This is God’s way of stirring something within me. I choose to remember. My heart is wider, and more open, and a little more broken than it was before. I will not forget. I will remember the children.
