Today marked our final day at the orphanage. (We are currently driving toward Kruger Park through South Africa, and this is STUNNING!). Today was a bit bittersweet. Even after only four days at the orphanage, we are weary. I think our bodies are fatigued from carrying the little (and big) ones around, and certainly our hearts are heavy from a place that offers little hope of a promising future.
Earlier in the week as we were leaving the orphanage, the proprietor tapped on our van door and thrust a beautiful baby into our line of sight. She remarked that this baby seemed to be in good health, well fed, and in good shape, but someone had left her in a taxi cab to abandon her. The police brought the baby to the orphanage. All I could think about was the meager future this child was now assigned to. While life in Africa is vastly different than that in America, to be with the ones we love and know the presence of joy and laughter seems a universal aim. This child now faces a life void of adult interaction, with little affirmation of who she is, and (what we saw to be) a rather empty embodiment of the message of God’s love for her. All that lie before her are days repeated over and over again of bowls filled with only corn mush, dirty and ill-fitting clothing, and a fight to prove she is worth anything. Hasn’t this world told these kids they are forgotten and worthless?
Art Camp was brief every day. It inevitably became chaotic and evident that the kids were not too interested in listening to what we may be asking them to explore. How do you speak collectively to ages 2-16? However, yesterday Jessica was able to present the Gospel—sharing that anything we may do that is bad separates us from God, but that Jesus came to bridge that separation, allowing us access to God. One little boy sitting next to me so intently listened to the message. And I thought, well, if only he has heard this good news, than this entire trip is worth it. If we give a message of hope in a place that seems absent entirely of hope, than we have accomplished a lot.
We hope that things are indeed different than what we experienced this week at the orphanage. The kids are currently on winter break, so they (who are school aged) would normally be in class during the day. However, all the children just aimlessly wandered around the property while we were there. Little and big alike hung around the playground—all anxious for physical touch. The little ones will walk up to anyone and thrust their arms in the air to be picked up. The bigger kids will sit as close as possible just to be near to you. The little ones are content to just quietly let you hold them; no entertainment is necessary. The kids are so smart and inventive, but the lack of stimulation leads to unfortunate play toys like metal wire, sharp objects, and even a dead rat (all mothers please insert your irate reaction here). There is barbed wire around the property, broken glass, and random people who wander on to the property (or at least one who we could not determine his function). The children are severely stunted from malnutrition: four year olds look like one year olds, and 13 year olds look like seven year olds. We could not determine the age of the smallest children as we were often shocked by how young they appeared to be when told their actual age.
We found that better than any camp or VBS was simply acknowledging and holding the kids of the orphanage. Luckily, 16 (out of 150) are being adopted soon. This is the first time in 25 years that the proprietor has allowed children to be adopted. However, particularly for the older children (and then add a sibling to be adopted with and a possible HIV diagnosis), the likelihood of being adopted is very slim. These children have absolutely nothing—no money to pay for college or money for a dowry if a young man wants to marry. When I think of American children, we have large dreams of what we wanted to be when we grew up, but what dreams do these kids have? Currently, their dreams are just to have a family who loves them. One child even looked up to a woman on our team and said, “I need a mother.”
Sadly, we had to restrict what Bible verses we painted on the walls. No mention of you will be given what you ask for, or God has plans to prosper you. Because, sadly, these kids most certainly are not getting what they pray for. And perhaps this is the most heartbreaking thing of all. We know God has not forgotten these children, but how could they believe that?
A woman from our church visited this orphanage last year with a North Avenue team, and the family is now adopting one of those 16 children. Secheba will hopefully be arriving to America by the end of the year—and we are so excited to have be a part of our church family. This kid is fantastic, fun, loving, and so elated to be coming to the United States. He too is content to just sit in your lap for hours, which is exactly what he and I did last night as I rubbed his little back and laughed at his sweet playfulness.
Of course you want to take all of these children home with you—how can we leave them in such conditions? How can we return to our plush lives in America knowing these children are hungry, dirty, and in need of love? That is the question we now wrestle with as we begin the final portion of our journey.
We ask you, readers, to you turn your prayers tonight to these children, that they would indeed feel the love of Jesus this very day, that they would find peace among the thorns of what life currently has to offer them. Pray for deliverance from the oppression they face. Pray for change.
On Safari!
We are currently headed back to Jo-berg from Kruger (we’ve been typing blog entries off-line to post once we find internet). Yesterday’s safari tour of Kruger Park was incredible. We only covered a very small portion of the park, but did see the “Big Five.” In fact, we saw the Big Five (cape buffalo, elephant, leopard, white rhino, and lion) all before breakfast. What an extremely lucky day! Seeing all of these animals in the wild was thrilling, and the day provided some respite and joy after an emotionally and physically draining experience in Lesotho.
On our safari adventure, highlights would include our encounter with two lions who were “chilling” on the side of the road. I’m glad to know that the great big cats of the wild are equally as lazy as Moki Cat waiting for us back in our apartment. However, as I was snapping photos of the lion, one passed by the side of the van (and my open window!) only two feet away peering into my eyes. It was eerie and incredible! Then shortly after that, a herd of elephants passed in front of van—19 in all! That was magical. And later in the afternoon we saw another herd of elephants enjoy a watering hole, and we just sat and watched them for about twenty minutes. What incredible creatures.
As we head back to the airport, I think we have a lot of competing emotions. One, we wish we had had more time at the orphanage. Four days just whet our appetite. Unfortunately, a lot of time on this trip needed to be spent traveling. However, out of those four days, I believe those orphans gained 16 new advocates on their behalf. We return home now passionate to rally friends and family to take up the cause of orphans, and certainly we are a new crew of wanna-be adoptive parents. I think almost everyone on this trip now has a heart for adoption—knowing this is likely the only way any of these precious children can escape.
My last entry was perhaps a little too weighted on the side of hopelessness. I left the orphanage feeling heavy-burdened. However, there have been positive changes at the orphanage in the past year. A nurse is now on campus five days a week and is giving proper medication to children with HIV, and has identified several children who are most in need of extra food due to malnutrition, and is attempting to get them back on track. The facilities, though still lack-luster to us Americans, have vastly improved. Jessica commented that the children did not seem as angry with God as the last time she was here in November. And especially we should praise God that those 16 precious kids are being adopted after two-and-a-half decades of refusal to let children be a part of other families. These are all signs of hope and God’s movement in this orphanage. Things are changing. Perhaps the greatest sign of hope is the sound of these children laughing. Though they have nothing, the orphans were eager to offer a smile when you tickled or played, and on our last day we walked past the boys’ bathroom as they showered and heard shouts of laughter and glee. This is most certainly hope. The weight of the world could be found at the Ministry of Insured Salvation Orphanage, but instead we find the light-hearted spirit that only children seem to find in the face of despair. I will carry that sound of laughter and joy with me for the rest of my life—as a piece of heaven on earth, a sign of God’s love and peace that surpasses all understanding.
Duncan and I are in a unique situation that we have yet so much more excitement awaiting us as we return to Atlanta. We move into the new house and welcome our first dog J (God works in mysterious ways, another couple on this trip new of a dog that needed to be adopted that sounds to be a perfect fit). We’ve decided to name the dog Mosa, which means gracious and compassionate in Sesutu.
We certainly didn’t solve any problems when we came here, but we didn’t set out to do so. We came to see. We came to learn. We came to change. We did see how God is moving in a completely different part of the world. We did learn how to find joy in the face of despair and pain. And I believe we will change. How can you see all of this and remain the same? Join us in praying for change—both in ourselves and in the world.
See you on the other side.
W
