Too Hard To Swallow

The last communication we sent to you was from Steve.  I wasn’t ready to put down my feelings and thoughts after diving deeply into the life these children have here.  Yes, they have food, a place to live, an education and lots of love … but …

Today I went on a tour of the facilities and where the children sleep and watched them receive their breakfast from the “kitchen.”  I saw rows of bunkbeds three high crammed in a small room where two sleep in each bed.  I knew the condition of the mattresses from seeing them out in the sun.  I saw some small tin trunks sitting in the corner on top of each other and asked if each child had a trunk.  No, I was told, several share one trunk.  So, that is why I saw things hanging from the rafters, literally.

The kitchen was an outside shed and they were cooking a large pot of porridge made with water and maize (very similar to ground up corn).  The children stood in line with the smallest in front and had their cup filled.  We had bought them some biscuits from the store and they were given one of those as well.  It was just too much for me to watch.  I left and went back to my room to take it all in.

Have you ever heard of the expression, “This was too hard to swallow.”  Well, I had never experienced this expression until now.  I actually was eating breakfast after this and found it very difficult to swallow — too much going down at once.  It was dynamically experienced.

One of the sessions we had with the children here we spoke about, “Everyone is doing the best they can.”  It is hard to agree with that when I see how things are happening here — but it is true — they are doing the best with what they have. 

When I was a little girl and I didn’t eat all of my supper, my dad would say, “Think about all the hungry children in Africa.”  I certainly didn’t know what he was talking about and I bet he didn’t either.  We don’t see until we actually go there and see for ourselves the need that is happening here and in other countries such as this.  And, we certainly don’t hear about in the evening news.

I am so grateful to be here and to see for myself how my neighbor lives and be open to do what I can with what I have.  And, to be open to share with you, my dear friend, and with anyone else who will listen.

We have a routine of joining the children when they sing and dance praises to the Lord just before bedtime.  After their evening prayer they sing this …

All night, all day, angels watching over me, my Lord.

All night, all day, angels watching over me.

They are in good hands.

Faithfully,

Elizabeth