Grace > Hunger-Africa day 4

Her rib poked mine as I held her in my arms. Hunger is devastating and when a child is hungry, it hurts even more deeply. Today was one of the most heart breaking days I have had. We began teaching VBS at a school here in Kitwe. As we were driving pastor Edward turned around and said "We are going into more poverty. " I looked out the window as the scenery began to change from poorer looking homes to huts and small brick buildings. The roads got narrower and bumpier when finally we came upon the "school", a small brick building, with a small patch of land gated with hills covered in garbage. Then came the most beautiful faces.  Over a hundred of these faces and I fell head over heals in love with each one of them. With Grace at my side and the Spirit dwelling inside of me I greeted each stunning child with "Hello sister, Hello Brother" with his eyes I saw every black, snotty nosed, and dry liped child as a special son and daughter, brother and sister with ONE Christ! 

I grabbed a baby girl who had been crying and snuggled her into my cheek, several seconds after, I felt something warm running down my shirt and looked down in surprise as I noticed the young girl was not wearing a diaper and had wet herself on me. With the mercy of Christ I smiled and set the child in a comfortable place.  Paster Clovis pored some water on the spot and I moved on. 

A baby boy began to cry so I ran to pick him up. He had a crusted noise and bloodshot eyes, but he was, for that second, my child. I grabed a hold of him, snuggled him up to me, and tied my hoodie around myself to support him like the African women do, I carried him around for an hour or so like that. He just snuggled right under my neck, snug as a bug. I looked down at him and saw something was in his mouth, I opened it and dug my fingers in ripping out leaves. I realized he had been eating the vegetation around us. My brain went into mommy mode. This child, God's child, my child, is hungry. At this point the kids were being served their one and only meal a day, and I was desperate to get my baby fed. I ran around in search for the baby's real mother so he could be fed, but none of the village women watching us would claim him. I ran to Paster Edward and said, " This baby is hungry, who does he belong to?" he took the baby and in Bemba ( there native language) he asked, "Who belongs to this baby?" After a minute, a girl about 7 years old stood up from the crowd and grabbed the child and took him to her food, where she fed him. Some relief came over me, but I still thought about the fact that he and his sister would be hungry tonight as they wait for there next meal. 

The VBS continued in what seemed to be a chaotic blur. Kids everywhere, crayons everywhere, the hot sun, the emotions, the hands grabbing mine, the known fact that each and everyone of these children had malaria and typhoid running through there systems and were living with every symptom that came along with them. With that thought in view, I saw a young girl maybe 4 or 5 laying under a tree while the children were eating. I went to her and gently picked her up and held her in my arms, Paster Edward walked over and said, "She is sick." My heart broke, because I knew that being sick in a place like this means being really sick. Later, I found that she had HIV and was struggling with symptoms. I cradled the sweet child in my arms as if she would die that minute, my heart loved her and still does as if I have known her for years. I prayed over her weak body for healing and restoration and passed her over to Shelby as many other young children were shouting, "Auntie  Lessi" and I was being sumoned to play. 

A tiny little girl tugged on my skirt I smiled down on her and lifted her up. She coughed as she leaned against my side and I felt a sharp rib touch my skin. My thoughts gathered and said, "Her ribs are touching me as she coughs." I was overcome with sadness. the thought of what kind of hunger this child has gone through, not only hunger for food, but hunger for comfort. 

I touched each and every child I could, I touched there soft warm cheeks, there rough cornrowed braids and sweaty shaved heads. I kissed each and everyones shiny forhead and told every child I could that I was there sister and I loved them. I called the girls princess, and boys princes, and reminded them that there dad was a King. I was covered in urine, sweat, dark warm hands, snot, sneezes, red dust, and had never felt more beautiful. I was content, at peace and in my own little slice of heaven! Coming back to the guest house, eating a hamburger, taking a hot shower, and getting in clean sheets feels uncomfortable and lonely. My heart longs for tommorow when yet again I can be among the least of these, with the greatest of love.