Glory.
I had set in my mind this afternoon that I would simply stop
by my friends in the village houses for a quick visit and then come home and
work on my computer in the afternoon. But, as we all know, nothing is “quick”
in Africa. I walked down the narrow dirt pathway to my favorite little area in
the village. Hanging laundry hit me in the face as I walked there
clumsily, tripping over rocks and speaking broken KiSwahili to the people I
passed. We rescued three of our girls from this area. Their birth families have
now become some of my closest friends.
About an hour later after sitting with some of my friends,
kissing many snotty babies and speaking even more broken KiSwahili I found
myself sitting in the home of a new friend, Mama ke Katzo. I sat there in the
mud hut surrounded by the smell of local beer, men shooting heroin next to me,
a gorgeous baby in my lap and I looked down at my lunch. I love how the poor
always feed me even when they can’t feed themselves. Lunch was sima (a stable
food in many countries, its white soft stuff you eat with your hands), a nice
pile of salt, and a one small fish. Even in Mozambique this was one of my
favorite meals… minus the pile of salt of course.
I started to eat. One of my small friends (she is three) was
eagerly dipping her dirty hands into my plate and grabbing handfuls for
herself. She was hungry and this was likely all she would eat all day. I was
happy because they always serve me huge portions that I never want to finish,
so I was glad to have some help. At one point she dipped those dirty hands into
the fish bowl, yanked the poor fish’s head off and carried it across the tiny
room to our friend Kelsey. Kelsey is a baby, not quite one years old. Kelsey
happily grabbed the head and before stuffing it in her mouth she held it out
and laughed with such joy! It was as if the head was a trophy or a gold medal
she’d won! I couldn’t help but join in on her laughter which made Mwanajuma
(the three yr old) start laughing and Kelsey’s mother was quick to follow
suite. We all laughed joy filled laughs from our bellies. Light and joy filled
the room.
Soon after we got up and my friend walked me to the road. I
looked back at the dirt house, the heroin addicts completely toppled over by
this point, the old mamas sitting outside and selling potatoes, and I thought
about little Kelsey and the fish head. I smiled. I laughed. I walked away with
a new pep in my step. What was so glorious about a dead fish’s head? Well,
nothing really. But the simplicity of me and my friends, sitting and loving and
laughing, and holding dead fishes heads-the simplicity of the gospel- well, that
was absolutely glorious!
I smile as I think about the simplicity of the gospel, the
simplicity of love, because our daughter, Serah, should be the poster child for
it. She has definitely got it down. When out loving the poor I often just step
back and watch the love and generosity of Jesus flow so purely from her little
heart. Our family took a little vacation for the girls’ spring break last week.
We went to visit a friend of ours who is starting a new ministry base in the
bush. One afternoon Serah asked me, “Mama, can we go visit some houses”. I told
her of course we could, and before we left the house she wrapped a leso (
traditional piece of clothing kind of like a wrap you wear at the beach) around
her waist and slipped her light blue flip flops on her feet. We walked through
the bush and found a few little mud houses we stopped at and greeted people.
The last home we visited had many children. We sat and talked and played with
them. As we were walking away we noticed we had a small crowd of sweet little
ones with bare feet following us. We continued to walk along, the kids followed
with shy smiles on their faces, Serah went on and on about how we must come
back to this village and give all of our stuff away to the poor. I listened and
smiled as this, our little princess in the dirt, poured out her heart for the
poor. When we reached the house we were staying in we had to say goodbye to the
kids. But before we did Serah took off her blue flip flops and gave them to one
of the barefoot little precious ones following us. The girl smiled and said
shyly “asante” which means thank you. Serah smiled and walked toward the house
with a new pep in her newly barefoot step. Glory. There it was again. The
gospel is simple. It looks like bare feet and blue flip flops.
Joy and I went to see our oldest daughter (the one who left
Bella House) on Tuesday afternoon. For two hours. Not long enough. I guess some
things are quick in Africa.
I was looking down at my phone while waiting for her to
arrive at the bus stop when I heard that sweet voice say excitedly “Mom!”. I
looked up to see her. My heart melted. The familiar feeling of home washed over
me. She had braids. Green and black ones. It made me happy because green is her
favorite color. Two hours later after hugs, kisses, and deep conversation about
Jesus, life, and prostitution it was time to say goodbye. I held her as
she laid her head on my right shoulder and wept. Her green braids were in my
face and her cold tears fell onto my arm. I held her and I just prayed “Jesus,
Jesus….”. As she walked away she looked different. I felt sad, yes. But I
smiled because I felt happy at the same time. Because glory, His glory. It’s
still there even when the story hasn’t quite reached its happy ending yet. And
even when we are at the part of the story when our daughter who we rescued
willingly went back to a horrific life, when its easy to focus on the night
clubs and mini skirts and johns, I have to remember to look where the glory is.
In this case, the green weave. She still has a favorite color. That hasn’t and
never will be stolen from her. Glory!
