Hallelujah

I love children and little hands and little feet and babies and drooling babble, but most recently I’ve been learning more from the women who hold those little bundles than the jovial crawlers themselves. This weekend we worked at a retreat for the gogos (grandmothers) and magis (mothers) who cook for the children at the carepoints we visit daily. I have never seen such a clear picture of the Lord’s goodness and His ability to turn sorrow in to joy.

Bright patterns, tattered dresses, tightly gathered head wraps, tired lids and down-turned lips blanket the multiple-child-bearing frames of the 90 women who attended the Bemake Bembuso (Women of the Kingdom) conference. It was intimidating to stand in the doorway wearing clean clothes, shining grins and willing attitudes and face the exhaustion, distrust, pain and hopelessness that lingered stagnantly before us. They have reason to give off such an air, though. They wake up at 5am, feed and bathe hoards of children, some their own and some not, work in the heat all day, carry babies tied to their aching backs, receive no support or respect from any man, fight HIV and barely scrape by with enough cornmeal to keep their crying children satiated by night. Their battles never end.

Even with all of that incessant baggage, however, the Lord delights in these women and offers to carry them to freedom. He created them in His likeness, formed their hearts to beat after His, their minds to be drawn to Him, their smiles to reflect His goodness. Unfortunately, all of those minute details of their creation are often masked by the suffering and hardships they must daily endure to survive. When they laugh, He loves them. When they cry, He loves them. When they are abused and mistreated, He loves them. When they are forgotten, He loves them. He loves them all the time, He is captivated by their beauty all of the time, He is good all of the time. I know these things to be true. When the gogos and magis walked through the door on Friday, however, they did not know the truth. They could not see past their suffering and daily abuses to see their worth to the Kingdom, their beauty, their importance. Not a single smile could be seen.

As the Lord is good, so are His promises. Though sorrow may last for the night, the Creator vows, my JOY comes with the morning. Friday night, we witnessed women accept Christ and let His praises ring from their often silent lips, and His JOY transformed the place from that moment on. The air felt different when we arrived Saturday morning. There were laughs to be had, grins to be shared, joys to be cherished Saturday morning. I could sense transformation, confidence, power, might, all fruits of His goodness and delight in His creation. Tired gogos and magis were beginning to believe their importance, seize their inheritance, declare their beauty, all made possible by relinquishing their grip on life’s struggles and letting God carry each of them.

Saturday afternoon, I was asked to take glamor shots of the women to act as a keepsake from the weekend. There were dresses of fine fabrics, wigs, sparkling necklaces, long scarves and flowers to provide and final convincing in the camera screen that the Lord of all creation made them perfect and lovely. These women, all new creations, fought over the props and dolled themselves up for their big date with my camera. So many stood before me with straight faces, no matter how many times I begged for a flash of teeth, only cracking a grin at the review of their images. Ruby, an 89 year old great gogo to more than 20, fell in with the usual responses until I reached the final shot of her. A little wet glimmer shown in her eyes and she exclaimed, “Oh I SO beautiful!” in a crackling surprised voice. It hit the air like a rocket, loud and piercing, beautiful like a song sung for the first time. She hugged me, crying, “I so very beautiful,” she said again, taking off her wig to pass to the next photo subject.

I so beautiful? You are 89 years old, weathered beyond belief, dirty, sick and disregarded. Yes, you are beautiful. You are created in the likeness of the Almighty, you are beloved, He is enthralled by your beauty. You call Him Father and He calls you new, perfect. The Lord loves His children at any age, cherishes them in any conditions, delights in them at any time. He transforms the brokenhearted, puts a new song in their moths and a crown upon their heads. These women can FINALLY see their beauty and worth. That King, that creator, is mine. Hallelujah.