The people of Swaziland are beautiful.
Like, breathtaking.
Chocolate brown skin, perfect teeth (seriously! and to think, we spend so much on braces in the states while the Swazis have the secret to beautiful straight, white smiles) and eyes that captivate you with a glance.
No matter how caked in dark African clay these kids are, they glow with joy.
I can’t help but laugh when they laugh and squeeze them til they giggle and smother their precious faces with kisses.
And the people of Swaziland, beautiful as they are, are broken.
The children we spend our days with are growing up in a country wrecked by HIV/AIDS. Many of them are orphans, being raised by their go-gos (grandmothers) who are taking care of multiple children on their homesteads.
They depend on the one meal a day they receive at the care points we visit.
School fees are expensive and, even if they can afford to attend, some of the children must walk for up to two hours up a mountain one way to get there.
Being back in Africa has stirred up a lot of things in my heart. I love these people with a love I can’t explain, a love that can only come from the Father Himself. I love the mountains and the green fields and the sunsets and the rainstorms. I love that my month in Swazi has reminded me that God has put a passion for Africa in my heart.
Because like Africa, like Swazi, I too am beautiful and broken.
I am the Lord’s, I am His princess, His beloved. He sees me as beautiful, whole, healed. He looks at me and smiles. I delight in Him and He sings over me.
And I am broken. I don’t have this thing figured out. I am learning, but I trip and fall daily. I fail. I don’t have all the answers and I don’t always make the right decisions. I am on a journey, on this journey, of discovery and growth. And it comes with a lot of scrapes and bruises, cuts that are opened intentionally and now must heal.
But I am HIS. I am HIS daughter. My wounds and my gaps and shortcomings are openings through which His light can shine and illuminate the darkness. I, as a beautifully broken mess can still reflect the Father and His grace. I can still carry His presence into the places I go and can bring the Kingdom powerfully.
I, like Africa, like Swaziland, am the Lord’s. Beautiful, broken, and HIS.
Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.
And we who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory are being transformed into His likeness with an ever increasing glory which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.
[2 Corinthians 3:17-18]
