Wet Clothes Serve as a Reminder

from Katherine

When I was little I loved to put on my rain boots grab my umbrella and sing and splash in the rain. I usually came home soaked to the skin, by choice! I had to run two errands today, with my car of course, and when I got home I was soaked to the skin, not by choice. 

This made me stop to think about some of my friends here in South Africa.

Grace lives in a rondavel, a small round house about 20 feet across. Ten people live in Grace’s house - not all family, but Grace has a big heart. Grace’s roof is corrugated tin and it leaks. Grace does not have a tank to collect water so someone must walk to the tap. On sunny days there will be children playing in the yard at Graces’. Today with the drenching rains they will all be inside. Except Grace, she had to walk to the taxi rank, ride to the stop where her weekend job is, walk to work, clean someone’s home, walk back to the taxi rank, ride the taxi, and walk home.  All in the pouring rain.

My friend Mafa also lives in a small rondavel with his wife and 2 sons.  Mafa has been building a bigger home on his land for more than a year. He is working hard now to save money to pay for the roofing materials. When he does have the money, he will put the roof on himself.

I think God has used all the wet clothing hanging around my house to remind me of how blessed I am.

A Lesson from Nqobile

from Katherine

When I walked into the preschool at our ministry site today I was receiving so many hugs that I had to sit down. Nqobile, the child in the green jacket, climbed right into my lap and stayed there. After a bit, most of the kids started to play again. Nqobile and I were left to talk on our own.  Nqobile speaks a 2 year old version of 'Xhosa baby talk.' I speak English to the children and some of the time, my limited Xhosa. 

The children often touch my face to get my attention and to see if the white will come off. Nqobile had my face in his little hands as well as something else, my cross necklace. When he was sure that he had my full attention, he began to tell me all about the cross (in Xhosa) and kept pointing to the sky. Over and over he would give the necklace a gentle pull and then point to the sky. I could not decipher his baby talk with my ears, but I am sure in my heart Nqobile was telling me about Jesus.

One Door Closed...Another One Opens

from Katherine

I have spent the last year pouring my heart and soul into the Pre School at our ministry site. I have deliberately avoided imposing my views. Instead, I have encouraged the teachers to focus on providing an educational environment that is fun and safe. At the same time, I have been providing enrichment like art projects for the children.

One of the dangers of being the encourager is that sometimes it takes me a while to figure out that my help is not wanted. This week I made it to the point where it has become very apparent that my involvement in this Pre School is unwanted. Heartbreak! Although, I knew that this door was slowly closing I did not want to admit it to myself , to my white south African friends (many of whom think I am wasting my time anyway),  to my husband, or to the many people and churches that support us. Well now I have said it. I feel better. A little. Still a little bruised, but I will carry on.

It is clear that God has opened new doors for me and now that I am available I will be able to explore these new opportunities. There are many small Pre schools in our ministry area. While they may have some staff and a small facility they are very limited in the amount of instruction they can provide beyond the very basics.

While God is still providing greater clarity daily, I can see myself supporting multiple schools by visiting them a couple of times a week with enrichment programs and curriculum that they would not be able to provide on their own. That is an exciting thought - to be able to share God’s love with many more children and their families and strengthen numerous small Pre Schools and encourage the ‘Grannies’ that have been providing for the local children.