As I sit down to write this blog, I can’t keep the tears from escaping my eyes and rolling down my face. For the first time in weeks I have the time and space to stop ministry for a moment and let the grief I’ve been pressing down surface. It feels so good to be, to sit, and to let the sadness come in its cleansing waves.
I can’t stop thinking about Tandi, a beautiful twelve year old I met at one of the care points. She helps out with the preschool class there, keeps the kids in line, sings every song and participates in every game with unabashed excitement. Her clothing barley fits, she is literally ripping out the seams as she grows, despite the fact that she is tiny for 12.
I asked one of the teachers why she isn’t in regular school and was informed that she is sick because she has HIV. I’ve heard a million statistics about AIDS before, raised money for campaigns and even helped to treat people with full blown AIDS in a medical clinic, but for some reason none of that has affected me the way Tandi has. I don’t understand why but her smile and joyful presence tear straight through my heart.
(Tandi outside the preschool)
I’ll take the grief because in the midst of the pain I am reminded of how incredibly alive I am. For me having the opportunity to work at these care centers in Swaziland is truly living the abundant life that Christ has offered and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. God seems to be putting together so much of what I have learned in the past and using it to help me lead this project.
My mind has been so occupied with caring for the teams working on project G 42, communicating with our contacts, making to do lists, getting food delivered to the care points and planning the teacher training, that today our day off, is the first time I’ve been able to really feel how what I am doing is impacting me. I’m thankful for all of it, the lists, the communication, the people, and the broken heart.
