Ambassador Trip
Today was the last day of home visits for us during a week where we had become emotionally, spiritually, and thus, physically spent. Not only that, our morning visits had already psychologically draining. For our final home visit, there were 3 of us from our team, Daphne, and 4 of the Zulu women from the community to drop off a food parcel as a token of love and the community members of Zimele were there to express that they were available to help in any way they can.
In the afternoon we visited a woman who had been injured in an accident over a year ago and could not walk or stand up anymore. When we got to their home, to our surprise, there was a young boy that was sitting in a wheelchair who is the motherless grandson of the women. He had experienced a stroke about 6 months ago and could not walk anymore. Upon Daphne explaining this to me, I could not control myself any longer and tears started welling up in my eyes uncontrollably and as I looked upon the boy and he just looked totally lifeless as his hopeless eyes gazed back at me.
After Daphne had explained to the grandmother that we were part of Zimele and what it is that we are there for, we asked if it would be okay if we prayed for them. Grace, asked me if I would pray and I agreed, even in my distraught state. I stood between the grandmother and the 11 year boy and laid hands on both of them. As I prayed I don’t know what it was that I was saying, where it was that I getting the words for my prayer, but I did know that there was a power that I experienced that I had not experienced in a very long time. As I prayed, I heard the community workers praying in Zulu and crying out to God. At that moment, I know that it was Holy Ground. God was there in all is power and the Spirit was at work.
After we had finished praying, I gave the boy a hug and he looked up at me and gave me a smile, a gift that melted every fiber of my being as I tried to hold back all of the emotions that were welling up inside of me. His smile was a gift, a blessing that is branded in my memory and I pray God gives me the wisdom to never forget it. His demeanor had changed from when we had first arrived to when we were about to leave. God had touched his life and Jesus had been there.
Even in the midst of that God moment, I was pissed off – extremely pissed off at God and I kept asking all of the “why” questions. Questions I knew I should not be asking but I justified because there was no justice or reasoning that would suffice as an explanation for why this boy is in the state that he is.
