I find myself reflecting so often on my time spent in Swaziland, Africa. Even though time keeps passing, I can be back there in a moment…simply by glancing at a photograph or reading a blog entry by someone still on the ground there. I have told many people since being back that I left a piece of my heart in Africa. Sometimes even my children will ask me if I am missing my “other kids”…they understand that the orphans I met, held and loved on in Swaziland are now MY kids; they are now OUR kids. They are our responsibility because Jesus loves them and sees them and wonders…”what will you do about them? they are alone…scared…waiting to be picked up and hugged. what are you going to do?”
I am in Swaziland. It is hot and the sun beats down on the red dirt. Children are lining up for their one meal of the day. There really is not much noise, even though there are at least 100 children milling about. The gogos (grandmas) are hunched over the wood fires, cooking the corn based “porridge” that the kids will gladly devour.
Suddenly, I hear a cry…almost a pleading voice rising up.
It strikes me.
After several days in this place, surrounded by so many children and babies, I don’t recall hearing a cry! I understand, now, that infants learn over time that they don’t need to vocalize or cry if their previous attempts at crying were not met with a response to the felt need. (ie: hunger, fear, wet etc…)
However, back to my ‘africa’ moment; I ( a mama) heard a baby cry…I was going to respond!
As I draw closer to the source of the commotion, I take stock of the situation.
There is a puddle of porridge in the dirt, an overturned dish, a crying baby and an aggravated woman. (food is very precious here!)
I pick up the dish (tin) and put my arms around the baby. The woman does not seem to speak English, and the porridge (obviously) is a lost cause!)
I put the dish out, towards the woman. It is obvious that somehow the dish of porridge was spilled…causing distress to both the child AND the adult!
Through my words and my body language I try to communicate to the woman that I need her to refill this dish. She scoops a batch of porridge into my outstretched pan.
Within seconds, I realize why this tiny person dropped the prize…it is HOT! No wonder the tender hands could not hold on!
The two of us make out way through the crowd to a spot in the dirt.
I place the dish in front of her.
She looks at me.
I push it closer to her.
She tentatively pokes a finger into the steaming bowl and pulls back…
I put my finger into the liquid, and I pull my own finger away…it is very hot! Too hot for a baby.
My mommy instincts kick right in! I pull her onto my lap and attempt to feed her, with my fingertip. I have been watching the other children eating…sans utensils… all week. They scoop up the food with their fingers. I do the same for this precious child. As my fingers go from the hot porridge to her expectant mouth, I feel more and more connected to her. My mind flashes back to nursing my own babies and the level of intimacy I felt during that experience. This tiny child somehow got herself to the care point because she was hungry.
As I sat there, in the dirt, finger feeding this little person…I looked around and wondered what I was doing there. In the grand scheme of things, as the world spinned around and time passed by, I questioned why I was sitting there…dipping my finger into lukewarm (at this point) cereal and putting it into a toddler’s mouth. I tried a few times to grasp her hand and show her how to dip her own finger into the mix and put it up to her lips. Everytime, she would just bat my hand away and lean into my chest…allowing herself to be fed. She was loving the attention…soaking up the love! And, it was LOVE! I could have sat there forever.
God was whispering into my ear: ” This is what you were created for. This is the picture of my love. There is nothing more important that you could be doing, at this moment.”
I asked a friend of mine to take some photos because I knew I never wanted to forget this moment.
I was participating in something remarkable. It went way beyond the physical nourishment that this child was receiving. I was receiving nourishment…this was a holy moment.
This was a moment when Heaven invaded earth. A moment when God could not hold Himself back any longer….He had to reach down and take over my body to make sure this little one got what she needed.
Thank you, Jesus, for allowing me to be present during one of your holy invasions! I would have missed it…if it hadn’t been for YOU!
Live your life with eyes and ears and hearts wide open! Listen for the cries! Seek the places where you can sit down in the dirt and experience the holy.
I love what God is doing in, and through, your life, Jen. Praying for you as you wait.
What an amazing experience!
Thank you for sharing in such a beautiful way!
Jen, You are blessed with a gift of writing – and it is blessing me. Thank you for giving time each day to your particular ministry of the Word and the word that conveys it.
Jen, you truly captured the essence of the care point here. This is the best I’ve read.
Thank you all for your encouragement! Writing has become a labor of love for me and it touches my heart to know others can be blessed through it…
As I read this, it occurs to me that you are answering your own question. I love you.