So it's been nearly a month. July 19th, I arrived back to the states with a whole new perspective of the land that we live in. A perspective that is widened only after engaging through the lens of nearly 9,000 miles away.
We've all heard it before right? The stories of people returning from impoverished lands, war-torn areas, disaster sites. Lives that are changed forever. But somehow as the listener to many of those stories, I've been moved before, but often times I raise my hands and wonder how can I respond to a story like that? That was THAT INDIVIDUAL'S experience, and can I truly understand something like that WITHOUT the experience? Truth is, I don't think so.
So with that in mind, I hesitate sharing some of my experiences, because I think story is the central piece to our lives, the narrative that we're all drawn to, but stories that don't cause action...well they're nice and all, but when you experience and encounter some of the things that the story-tellers have encountered...well nice stories just don't cut it.
Please know that as I sit here writing, I pause about ever 40 seconds. Wondering...a)Phil, does that really make any sense? b)just tell the story and quit being so dramatic c)will people really move to action...OF ANY SORT? Will I really move to action???
So I'm going to endeavor this week, to allow some of my experience in Africa to begin to unfold here on the blog. I commit to at least 3 different entries recalling some of the experience...my prayer is that the stories of my new friends will be shared; Will be told; Will speak to you in some way that they spoke to me. I'll share some pictures that I took.
This is my buddy Dean. Dean lives at the childrens home at
El Shaddai. Understand El Shaddai is up in the mountains. Understand it's the winter there. Yeah, I know, you thought like I did...that doesn't count as a winter there...it'll be warm. And it was. For the most part. Although we happened to be there on the chilly days. Seriously. I was in Africa and it was like low 50's. Not the Africa I imagined.
Dean came up to me one late afternoon...our first day there actually, and simply grabbed my hand. Not aggressively. Not playfully. Like my daughter, when she just wants to be held. When she just wants to know that I'm there. He just held my hand, and shivered gently, as this was a little too cold for his little body. I looked down to see this little guy just seeking some warmth, put my arm around him, and just rubbed his back, trying to generate a little friction against his worn hoodie sweatshirt. He wouldn't talk. I don't think it was because he was shy at the time. Just cold. You know that cold...it's the one, where, you'd rather not talk, because that will let some warmth sneak out of you.
I showed him how we roll in Michigan...'Dean, cup your hands like this, and breathe in them, and the breath will feel warm against your face.' He liked our little North America trick.
The next couple of days, we hung out some more...played soccer (a lot)...laughed...ran.
Dean...like a lot of my new friends, isn't a poster-child. He's not a sad case. He's not a cause for pity. He's a cause for action. Dean is like my son. Like my daughters. He is loved. He is wonderfully created. He has a Savior who died on a cross so that he may have life eternal and to the full.
Right now. Pray for my friend Dean. Not because something terrible's about to happen (really the atrocities of being a child without parents has happened already). Pray for Dean to hear God and how God wants to use him. Pray that God would use Dean to help Swaziland grow and develop. And pray that Dean would fall in love with the God who first loved him.
Posts
