my first friend in swazi. a 24 year old qween with a 5 year old son. a lady who looked for a job my first month there, searching everyday- trying to sell beauty products and snacks to fill the holes. she got a job at a farm. she woke up at 5 am every day to go weed until 5 that night. she still came in her off time to our compound even if it was just to say hello to us. she stood with us. sister hooked us up with her weave lady. she laughed with us. she bought p and i a sleeve of crackers the night before we left. it set her back but she loved us. she was my family.
babies who stuffed stale cheetos in my mouth and gave me the carepoint cup filled with the water we were told not to touch. you drink and you eat with them. they hug your legs. they run to you every time you arrive. kisses on your cheek. they make sure the people around them make it home. they are my family.
the boys we played volleyball with. the guys who lived at the end of our compound. our neighbors! my brothers. the guys who chased after sugar cane trucks for us. soccer o clock! they asked so many questions during a prayer walk we dragged them on – but now they know. they cheated at uno. one day we rapped about spaghetti on our spaghetti and taught each other slang. during church they would sit on their phones much like i would a year ago. they still laughed and danced in His throne room. these guys were full of wonder. they were my family.
a family in a busy city. a church body that was our home. people who walked the talk and in such a way people literally felt jesus’ presence flood through them whenever they entered the room. musicians. comedians. compassion. we were never allowed to drink cold water on a cold morning around them. whatever was theirs became ours twofold. i don’t know the password capitol i. fights but those family fights because you love each other so much. tackled. supported. best story tellers. happy birthday. these people made leaving so hard. they were my family.
teenage girls at a bhuddist orphanage. they eagerly showed us their rooms. hand picked oranges were tossed at us as we were forced to dance in their circle. questions about justin bieber and our matching dimples showed me jesus. they were my sisters.
a 49 year old man who was possessed. a man on a hill. helloooo he screamed when we passed. he was chained. wrists split open. crying out to the lord. his face deformed by the hot rod he had been beaten with when his body was taken over by the enemy. 10 18 year old girls and three men wept that day. he was my brother.
this little girl i met my first week here. a small smile and a wave. it made me feel seen but in a safe way. not in the way of everyone just staring at you when you walk down the streets. again i walked into a school today and saw her. that face! it had been a month and still i felt safe around a four year old. thank you lord for that sister.
addicts. the rough ones. guys hooked on heroine and alcohol. i walked into the rehab center and felt the holy spirit hit me like a brick wall. these were my people. the ones who think they are too messed for jesus. the ones who just want to believe that jesus IS their only hope. the ones who are cast out by the local churches merely because of their past and the tattoos that haunt them. men who talked to us with more ease and trust than anyone i have met here yet. openness. realization that bringing all of their baggage to the light only makes this easier. really hard questions asked. my heart beat so quickly. my story spilled out of my mouth with no control. it felt like a family barbecue with a purpose. these are my brothers.
a squad of fifty in a dark room screaming and glorifying the lord. christs truth boomed through the sound waves. the spirit wafted through the negative spaces and filled every ounce of us. He is my king! my god did all of that! talent onstage but in the most humble way the room overpowered the mics. all you could hear was a melody that would fight all battles. faith. faith that it COULD is all it takes. faith that prayer can conquer all and boldness to pull your family in to fight with you. these warriors are my brothers and sisters.
thank you jesus for these spiritual dna. for the people i haven’t even met that are still your beloved kids. thank you for the people that are freakin hard to love and understand because you still do and because you do we can as well.
