four minute friday: hope

Go. I'm off to Hope House in an hour. That's the local orphanage I take our interns to each Friday afternoon. This is one of the things I missed most while I was in America.

I love watching the kids' eyes light up as they learn something new. I love seeing them shoot their hands in the air, volunteering to help with the object lesson. I love the zeal with which they recite their memory verses.

But mostly I love sitting quietly with one or two of them, lavishing them with love and feeling my heart be strengthened.

I've been hearing stories of how much the kids have grown, and all the new things they're capable of doing now. I'm looking forward to seeing a healthy Nkosi, a walking, talking, happy Katleho, an interactive Mbali. I'm looking forward to seeing our interns in action, doing what they do best.

I'm tired today and feel like I don't have much to offer. But my arms aren't too tired to hug and to hold; that much I can do. I can be a quiet refuge for a child who needs just that.

This is the perfect ending to my week.

Done.

just plain hard

She asked me what my weekend would hold. I told her my Grandma had passed away and that the memorial/burial service is on Saturday. I will never forget her response. "At least you're used to facing a lot of death in Africa, so that makes this easier to deal with."

Let me tell you what I didn't tell her: Nothing makes this easier.

The fact that I live in a country with an astronomical death rate, where I often know people who pass away, makes nothing easier. One in four South Africans have AIDS, but those numbers, the ones and the fours, aren't just numbers. They are people. They are you; they are me; they are our families.

Consistently facing sickness and death makes neither easier to deal with. Maybe it makes my approach different than someone else's, maybe it even makes me want to be numb to it all, but it certainly doesn't make it easier.

Although I wanted to say all that, I simply smiled a flat, unconvincing smile. She changed the subject and moved on, for which I was grateful.

We are on our way to the cemetery this morning. Nothing makes this easier.

Today is just plain hard.