The past two days we have been traveling to the base of one of the mountain ranges that separate Swaziland from South Africa. The terrain is rocky and rough. I have been finding that my faith has been a bit rocky, as well. In the face of such overwhelming physical needs, I find myself feeling small and inadequate. The go-go's and children at this carepoint have to walk 5 km each way to get water. The kids are dressed in dirty and tattered clothes. Many of the littlest ones are naked from the waist down...no pampers here. They sit in the dirt to eat their dish of maize and beans. There are few spoons; most of them eat by scooping the food up with their fingers. After the meal, they might kick around a partially deflated ball or crush small rocks with larger rocks. The babies crawl along the parched ground, putting who knows what into their small mouths. A few of the children are quite timid around us. Not too many white faces make it to such a remote spot. Today, an older woman hobbled on to the property. She held herself up on some rickety homemade crutches. Her right foot was wrapped in a filthy bandage. She sat down on the ground next to me. We greeted one another and sat in silence for a few moments, watching the children play. "Pray for her". Through one of the translators, I discovered that her foot was broken and had been burned when she fainted into a fire. She said she was having some problems with her family, and that they weren't very kind to her. She also told me that she had medicine to take (perhaps for pain...not clear) but that she had to take them with food and often she had no food. Today, she would be able to eat at the carepoint. What about tomorrow? "Just pray for her...I see her...I know what she needs."  There is a military road block just before getting to the carepoint due to the fact that it sits so close to a border. The woman told me that the soldiers had laughed at her when she walked by. The sick pleasure this must have given them makes me cringe.  " Pray for them. They don't know what they are doing...I have already forgiven them."

My heart began to beat harder as I asked if I may place my hands on her injured foot. She smiled and agreed. I closed my eyes and began to ask God to heal her foot. I asked, in Jesus' name, for the infected, rotting flesh to be made clean and new. I asked, in Jesus' name, for the fractured, splintered bones to be restored. I opened my eyes, wanting to see a perfectly fit and healed limb beneath my warm hands. This was not to be...not today.

Was my faith not strong enough? Was her faith not strong enough? I wanted a miracle..."It is not about you, beloved."

I looked over at a sleeping baby on a mat close by. "Pray for that one." I walked over and placed my hands gently on the sleeping child's back. I just whispered blessing and protection over her; that God would give her hope and a future.

I glanced over across the yard in the shade of a tree where Eric sat ministering to a group of older kids. I see Claire holding a baby on her lap, singing songs that I used to sing when she was a baby on my lap. Jacob is sitting near by, with three little boys surrounding him, talking the way only little boys can.  "Pray for all of them. Each and every one."  The Spirit continued to whisper into my heart to pray and to keep praying until each need was met. How LORD? How is that possible? How do you continue to see the needs of these, YOUR children? How do you listen to their cries day after day; night after night?  Why don't you do something? Why don't your bring justice?  Come, Lord Jesus...make everything right. "I AM, beloved...I AM..."

And just like that, an answer to each prayer uttered at the base of this mountain...two little words... I AM.