After walking through the thousands of people and searching through hundreds of vans, we finally find the Kumbi (public van) that will drive us back to our homestead in the countryside. We don’t even have to tell them where to drop us off because everyone in Manzini, Swaziland seems to know where the white people are living. From our homestead, we walk through the rolling hills where the goats, cows, and chickens wander, to a place called a care point. This is where children, many of them orphaned, can come and receive food, care, and love. Before the race, I didn’t really like kids that much. That quickly changed. Walking into the care point and seeing the kids play, I just felt this crazy urge to walk up to this little boy and pick him up and swing him around. So, I did. The rest of the day, Sibonaglaso didn’t leave my side. He wouldn’t let go of my hand. If I sat down, he would climb into my lap. If I walked around, he would climb onto my shoulders. There is hope for the Orphan.
Meet Mozi Shoma, a man infected and dying from AIDS. He is doing better today than he was yesterday. He is out of bed, dressed, and sitting in a chair. Today, there are no flies around his head. I briefly see him smile as I walk in. His relative and caretaker, named Rejoice, is sitting at the table. We talk for a while, and pray for healing over Mozi, as I will continue to do everyday that I seem him. As I was saying goodbye, I went to shake Mozi’s hand. He stared into my eyes, and he wouldn’t let go. He held onto my hand for quite a long time, and finally said something in Siswati. I asked my translator and he said that Mozi was enjoying feeling the warmth from my hand. I wanted to run out of the house and just cry. I wanted to escape and cry out to God, but I stayed until he let go of my hand. It’s almost like God was transferring some of His love from me to Mozi. There is hope for the man with AIDS.
As I started to walk out of the house, Rejoice waves me into the house across the street from Mozi. I was hesitant to go, but felt the Holy Spirit nudging me on. Her name, surprisingly easy to say for being in Swaziland, is Katrina. She is probably in her late sixties or early seventies. It is an extremely hot day in Swaziland, close to 100 degrees, and the mattress from her bed is on the floor, and she is curled up in a blanket. It takes her a few minutes to sit up. She grabs my hand and kisses it and tells me “thank you”. I’m a little confused about why she is already thanking me. Our conversation began with her telling me how her three children have all died, their deaths not far apart from one another. Now, she is blind in one eye, almost deaf, and unable to walk. She has no family to visit her or take care of her. She tells me that she asks God why He would do this, why He would take her children, why He would leave her in this state. She doesn’t understand, and wasn’t happy with God. I don’t even remember what happens next. I don’t remember the words that I said. I don’t remember the look that I gave her. I don’t really remember anything until it happened.
She breaks out in song. In the middle of our conversation, she begins to sing and praise God. She begins to thank Him. I remember being shocked. She went from being upset with God to singing praises to Him. There is hope for the Cripple.
Most of the time, when we are getting ready to do something that the Holy Spirit is asking us to do, we think it is going to be this crazy, difficult, and awkward task. However, most of the time, all we have to do is just show up. I didn’t have a lot of words to say, especially since I didn’t speak Siswati. All I did was show up and talk to this woman, and by the end of our conversation, she was overwhelmed with the Holy Spirit and began to sing out to God!
Wednesday. All this happened in one full day.
Today, I felt the weight of His glory, and the perfection of His direction.
