A Lesson of “Importance…”

On March 9^th & 10^th we held another orphan camp.
  We had 400 + orphaned and vulnerable children, plus the staff volunteers from Pastor Walter’s care points.
 
My colleague Katy and I planned, did the set up, and led the event.
  It was a lot of work, and we would not have pulled it off without a visiting team of 19 Americans.
  We seriously wouldn’t have pulled it off without the help of about 15 Swazi Gogo’s (grandmothers) who volunteer daily at the care points.
  They came to lend a hand to cook and dish out the food for the almost 500 people involved.
  That in itself is a huge task, especially when they have to do it all over an open fire.
  The following is a journal entry I wrote the day after the camp:

 

 

My body is in need of rest and recuperation but today I feel that my soul needs that so much more.
  So many children, so many tragic stories…

Apart from all the logistical nightmares of Orphan Camp, deep down I wish that orphan camp would never really end.
  Because of all the work that goes into it beforehand, the actual hours when the children are present seem to “fly by.”(Most of the time that is- there are always exceptions)
  The interaction with the kids – the playing of games, the holding of hands, the hugs, the kisses, the jokes, the laughter, the bible lessons, even when the kids are misbehaving and we have a chance to “set them on the right course,” –
 that’s the part I wish would never really end.
  Probably because one realizes it is not enough.
  With all that you’ve given out, to the point of being emotionally drained, it is still not enough.
  There is so much more to be done, these kids need incredibly more than what they’re getting from a 48 hour camp that happens a few times a year.
  I wish that I could keep them, yes all 400+ of them!
  I wish that I could keep them safe from what they are returning to, I wish that I could have 400+ more volunteers to come and love them and train them up in the way that they should go.
  
   

 

 

“Watch out he’s a ‘clinger.'”

I heard those words when I picked up a young boy in the final hour of the orphan camp.
  My mind was so busy.
  I am thinking about transport, and slightly perturbed – “Where’s our rented van, the driver should have been here by now?!”
  I am thinking about cleaning, I am thinking about packing supplies, and yes I am also even thinking about taking a nap as soon as were done.
  Then a young boy maybe 4 or 5 years old taps on my legs for my attention.
  I look down and see him thrust his arms up at me – the universal sign for “pick me up!” 
Now in the past 47 hours I have picked up and held 100’s of kids, I am very tired, and I am helping coordinate this event in a most critical phase of “wrapping up.”
  I have already probably brushed past lots of kids and their requests because I am too busy.
  Honestly, I am tempted to brush past this one; realizing there’s a lot of things my attention could go to at this moment.
  However this time, something inside me decides he’s more important right now.
  I pick him up and hear that he’s a “clinger,” and that he’s made his rounds with everyone on the visiting team.
  As I pick him up, his arms instantly lock around my neck and his little head is thrust deep against my chest.
  He is a “clinger,” and he doesn’t want to me to let him go.
  After 47 hours of being loved on, this young boy, this orphan, is still looking to be held by somebody.
  He is starved for love.
  I start to think about what he must have gone through in his short 4 years of life, and what he faces on a daily basis. There is something so desperate in each one of us that says “I want to belong, I want to be loved.”
  And while packing up the vans is terribly important, even more so is the child in my arms.
  My heart was touched and I was rocked by the presence of God.
 

 

I want to be a “clinger.”
  I want to be that to my God; my Father in heaven.
  Not only do I want it, I need it desperately.
  I don’t want my heart to wander from him.
  I want to know Him more and more.
  Each one of us, in a spiritual sense, enters this life as an orphan.
  And in turn we all crave and need that safety and relationship of being in our Abba’s arms.
  And because of His heart, because of His grace, he has always picked this orphan (me) up when I have asked Him to.
  He has always been willing to flood me with His love and grace.
  What a blessing!
  And then I get the privilege to model God’s own heart to these orphaned children in Swaziland.
  What a tremendous gift that is!
  Thank you Babe Wethu (Abba Father)!
  Thank you that you don’t leave us as orphans, but that you come to us and wash us in your grace and love.