An Angel's Journey part 1
Some people pray for connections,
some people pray for witnessing opportunities, some direction. But I prayed for
a child. I prayed for a connection. One that I knew would be rekindled for many
years to come.
Arriving at the slums in Kabalagala
left me breathless. People LIVE this way? I thought to myself, “gross.” And
right then, I thought the very same word about my heart. Immediately, God
started preparing me.
After a
10-minute walk to the heart of the slums, we arrived at a school called Rays of
Hope. Allie has written multiple times about it, and describes it very well.
But you can’t quite understand what she or I is talking about until you walk
through the gate. Until you see. Rays of Hope sits directly in the middle of
the Lord’s heart. Walking into Rays of Hope was like a breath of fresh air. The
smiles, the laughter, and the giggles filled my heart to a level it has never
been before. Immediately when the children walked out of the classrooms, I
realized. I finally realized all that Allie and all the other previous teams meant
when they talked about never ending JOY. When they talked about 10 kids hanging
on your neck the entire time, and ebony hands reaching for yours, and kids
crowding around you to get in one of the millions of pictures being taken. And
the laughter you hear. And the Lugandan accents that make you start to talk
like that. It’s overwhelmingly filling. Not being filled like you just ate a
thanksgiving dinner, not even being satisfied, but filled with a peace and a
joy that can only come from Jesus. And all you can do is smile, take in every
moment, and right then start to pray for the school, the people, the work, the
community, and the lives of every single person going to that school.
As I tried
to take in every moment, and as I saw the beautiful white smiles of kiddos
hanging all over me, I still didn’t feel that this connection had come. This
child that I knew was going to somehow change me. Not that the kids I was with
at the moment did not matter, because they ALL have captured my heart, but I
still had this feeling. And right then, I prayed for this unknown Ugandan, that
I knew was going to come in my life.
Out of a
crowd of small children this little girl wandered out of it and slowly walked
over to where I was, right by the newly built kitchen. Then, without me even
knowing it she found her way into my arms. Oh, how I wish my memory could
remember every single moment of meeting this angel. Clinging closely to me, she
drank in every ounce of attention she could get. I examined her condition,
ripped dress, small, dirty jacket on, dirty face, and the eyes of Jesus. Her
name was Angel.
I held her
close. From that moment when she crawled in my arms, she didn’t leave them
until we left. I picked up several more children, and they would take turns
kissing my mzungu face with their sweet brown lips, and in turn I gave them as
much love as I could pour out on a group of people in such little time. My sweet Angel would look up at me and smile
with the biggest smile I can remember. She would look deep into my heart and
say “Oh, I love you so much,” in her sweet Ugandan accent.
There is
something different about holding someone with a different skin color than you.
When the
time came for her to eat lunch, I told her to go get in line. Unwilling to let
go of this maybe once in a lifetime chance, she held on tightly to me, never
wanting to let go. I finally forced her to get in line, promising that I was
still going to be here. As she tickled me, and as she smiled at me, and kissed
me and sat in my arms, I kept asking God “what are you trying to teach me?” He
answered, “just listen.”
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