In Transit

Here I sit in Dubai...on my way to Italy for a week or so...

I had a great time with the Zak's and found myself amazed at the blessings of God.

On sunday we went to pick up a few people living on the streets, we were going to take them to church so I went with Kevin (the dad) and headed into downtown Pretoria. I was shocked when we arrived at our destination. A full sized matress on the sidewalk surrounded by a short wall created by cardboard boxes made up the house for two small boys running around the cement chasing loose papers and kicking a plastic bottle. They were 5 and 3, mom had left them alone there while she went with her 1 1/2 year old little girl and 2 month old little boy to wash up for the day. I played with the boys while we waited for the mother to return. We were picking up some men as well, two from Kenya, fled the country due to the most recent political strife, one man from Somalia, and another from Ethiopia. They live in the same place and have created their own make-shift family with these children and mother of the four.

I struggled with what my responsibility was as I sat in front of church holding the sleeping little girl in my arms and watching her brothers run in the grass. The smell of her warm hair made me want to snuggle her in my arms forever. They need to be protected.

In church I watched as each of the adults we brought fell asleep and I wanted to cry, not because they were missing a wonderful message, no. I wanted to cry because I felt the exhaustion seeping out of them. I wondered what kind of sleep they got on the streets with four small children. I wondered how often they were able to sit on a cushioned seat in an air-conditioned room and be allowed to stay for a while. I was glad they had the chance to rest even if that was all they received from the service, it might have been just what they needed.

In the evening I went to the church that the Zak's have started in one of the surrounding villages. It was my last night in Africa and a perfect one. The car broke down so we walked the 2.5km to the church. I sang my favorite South African song in the church and felt very at home to be surrounded by local praise music and foreign languages all around me. I appreciate the true african culture and songs and I was missing the African feel to things being surrounded by so many white people...I know whites are part of Africa too, but please understand what I am trying to say. I loved it,the service, the long testimonies, the random singing for the Lord.

We walked home in the dark and I was hand in hand with Gift, a little boy who just had his 6th birthday. It was a sweet time as we walked. He asked his mother questions in Swana. he wanted to know all about the moon, was there only one or a lot of them. Why is it following us? Why is it running away from us? I wanted to hold onto the sweetness in his voice, his small swana speaking... It was a perfect night, don't know if I can really make sense of it as I write.

Lots of thoughts and memories swirling through my head...