When I found out my team would be working at El Shaddai Children’s Home in the mountains of Swaziland, my heart beat a little faster.
And for good reason…this place is incredible.
Our ministry contact Charmaine describes her home as ‘the most beautiful spot in Swaziland’…she isn’t exaggerating.
The views are distractingly beautiful, the sunsets are spectacular and I don’t think I’ve ever seen stars this bright.
I spend most of my days here playing and cuddling sweet little kids.
That’s when I realized how completely pathetic I am.
Before the race, the thought of working at an orphanage like this thrilled me.
This is Moosah.
He still has tears in his eyes in this picture because one of the bigger kids stole his soccer ball. When I picked him up he nestled his head into my neck and dug his fingers into my shirt to cling on like a frightened kitten. My heart melted.
But then it completely broke.
At home when a baby is crying you can do your best to comfort them, but eventually the only solution is to find their mom.
Moosah has no mother, no father, no family of any kind.
I know it should be obvious, it is the definition of ‘orphan’, but as I looked around the playground at the it hit me like a tonne of bricks.
These. Children. Have. No. Parents.
I had read the statistics, there are over 100,000 orphans in Swaziland…but it meant nothing to me before now.
I am ashamed to think of how excited I was. Now I know 68 of them. I have kissed their cheeks, held their hands, pushed them on the swings, held them when they cried, listened to them mispronounce my name (“Lowya”), drawn pictures of Santa and Ironman in the dirt to make them laugh.
I knew my heart would be broken on this trip, but even that seemed like an exciting idea while I was sitting at home.
Those statistics aren’t just numbers anymore…they are my little buddies.
