I sit on the church steps and pray for the preschoolers on break. They are counting from 1 to 20 (always forgetting the number 14), fighting over the swing, and chattering back and forth in si-Swati. Statistics say, 1 in 5 of these children have HIV. My God, be with these children. Give them long lives and give them joy for tomorrow. Allow them to grow up and be leaders of this community. Give them your love and grace, I pray. I trust that “neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8: 38-39) I do not fully understand the depths of this love, but I continue to pray to the one who “chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight.” (Ephesians 1:4) I do not fully understand this love that made me “white as snow” in the eyes of the Holy God, nor will I pretend to.
The love of God is mighty and at times, distressing. It almost feels foolish and naïve. How can this God who says he loves so much, allow so much sorrow? In the middle of my internal battle, a boy runs up to me. He is all smiles as he climbs on my lap and chants “Mad-die, Su-zy, Mad-die, Su-zy!” (The kids love to sing that; I can’t tell you why). I continue praying for him and his friends. Lord, I love these children so much. My heart breaks for them, please protect my loves. My eyes start welling up. One day I will have to leave Nsoko, Swaziland and the sound of kids singing my name will only be a memory. Tears drip down my face and I reluctantly lock eyes with a concerned little boy. His head is cocked to one side and his muddy eyes stare into mine. He waits a moment and lifts his little hands to wipe my tears away. My. Heart. Melts. He notices a second wave of tears and just bear-hugs me. Why are you so cute? He takes the elbows of his striped green shirt and soaks more tears up. The poignancy of this exchange is too much. He could have noticed my grief and went about his way, but he stayed with me. He stayed until my eyes were dry and crinkling in laugher. He came to me in kindness, remained in compassion, and acted in gentleness.
No, I will not pretend to understand Christ’s love, but I witnessed a glimpse of it today; it is beyond my comprehension and my sorrows. All I know is that His love is pure, beautiful, and worth more than anything in this life.
