Reality, it’s something that I live in, yet there is always a part of me that wants to deny it. Because let’s face it, reality is scary, the truth hurts. This time it wasn’t just a slap across the face, but it ripped out my heart and left it laying in the red dirt of Africa…
We went to Nsoko and were doing what we normally do… playing with the kids, peeling oranges, making funny faces, and just having a good time. It wasn’t a big group, just or normal local kids. It was a pretty quiet and relax full day, no older guys hanging around or kids even really acting up. Things were good. Our translator was there, which was great. We often are asking questions about the kids since we haven’t started profiling yet (getting the background of each child). This day a younger woman stopped by for a couple of minutes and then moved on (not that unusual). Smah told us that she was the mom of two of our favorite regulars. She then told us that the woman was a prostitute. . .
It was on the way home and then even the next few days that reality sunk in.. my heart was ripped from my chest… the mom of these precious little ones was a prostitute… anywhere else this might not be a big deal, but here in Swaziland where the HIV/AIDS rate is over 38% of the total population (estimate) it is more than likely that the mom has HIV. . . then my heart hit the red dirt of Africa . . . 47% of all under five deaths are due to HIV and AIDS (Times of Swaziland, Oct 11, 2007). Not only could these children loose their mom to HIV/AIDS before the children’s village is complete, making them eligible to be some of our double orphans. . . but they might not even make it to see the project completed. . .
This is the reality that I try to hide from. I know the statistics. I’ve heard them, I’ve read them. . . but my heart wants so desperately to deny them. So right now my heart is sitting, lying in the red dirt of Nsoko. I want to do something, I want the numbers to change, I don’t want these babies to die, I don’t want them to have HIV/AIDS, I don’t want them to be raped or abused. I want it all to stop!. . . but I can’t. All I can do is love them. And pray that if by chance they do HIV/AIDS that the Lord will heal them, that He will heal their broken and abused hearts, that they will come to know Him as the loving Father that He is, that He will save them spiritually, emotionally and physically from the hell that is trying to consume their lives.
What happens next, I don’t know. As my heart lies in the dirt I begin to experience just a fraction of the reality of God’s heart for these children. My heart cries, my spirit cries, I cry (very unusual for those who don’t know me), and I wait. I wait for the Lord to pick my heart back up, dust off the clumps of dirt and place it back where it belongs, but leaving a little bit of the dirt there. . . it is a part of me. It is why I go to the Care Point, it is why I will to do what ever it takes…
