Nov 10, 2010 | South Africa, Stories
Where I left you yesterday, if you’ve forgiven the cliffhanger and returned, HH2B was throwing curve balls into the hopes of my heart, but a tiny little sand-like rock gave me incredible peace, and I just knew — God was in control. I was in His hands.
Our last day in the bushveld at Makhasa Game Reserve began similarly to the days before. We got up a little earlier than usual, (it might’ve been around 5 am I think) grabbed a snack and a cuppa, and were off in the Land Rover in search of whatever game or object of interest might warrant a photo, a story, a moment’s pause to enjoy.
I was sleepy.
We started off on the adventure, and the guide realised he’d forgotten his rifle back at the camp, not so good when rhinos and buffalo are roaming about, so we began a circuitous route to head back. Mind you, I am directionally challenged, and I was sleepy. But suddenly Ferdie (the guide) spotted some tracks and, the same as most other days, was out of the Land Rover in a flash, staring at the bush that lay before him with great interest. I wasn’t really sure what he was staring at and would normally have asked for help to decipher it, but, as I said, I was sleepy.
Then a familiar interaction took place. Ferdie pointed at HH2B and me, and signalled for us to quietly follow him to see whatever he was tracking. It was often the case that just a couple of folks could go and see something on foot at the time, and I was just happy we were getting to go first. Should I have been slightly nervous he didn’t have a rifle? I don’t know. I was sleepy. But since I didn’t lose my life in the rhino incident, I trusted this would be okay, too.
I tiptoed along behind our guide, and scurried in front of HH because I didn’t think I, being the lady amongst the three of us, belonged in the rear of the pack.
We came around a corner, and Ferdie attempted to point my eyes in the direction of the game he had it in mind for us to see, but something else caught my eye.
A picnic breakfast with roses and champagne had been carefully arranged under some Marula trees, and I suddenly realised there was not a wild beast to be seen because this was what the forgotten rifle, the circuitous route and the two of us on foot was all leading toward.
We were left with a radio and, seated on the picnic blanket, my future Hero Hubs, on one knee, began to share with me what I’m sure were some of the most beautiful things he’d ever said to me. I was so overwhelmed by the beauty of the moment I am afraid I scarcely heard a word. And his beautiful words were leading toward one significant question, with which he asked if I would be his wife.
And perhaps for one of the first, and only times I recall in my life, I was absolutely speechless.
I could only joyfully shake my head in response, and so I did, and through tears of joy, made it clear that I indeed would become his wife.
We soaked in the moment together, better captured in our hearts than in an attempt at photographs, and we enjoyed a bit of the champagne and stared at each other and laughed, and I’m quite sure I cried some more, and we marvelled at how tricksy HH had been that I had absolutely no expectation that this certain moment was about to occur.
And I’ve forgotten to mention that he produced a beautiful diamond ring which belonged to his grandmother which he hoped I would love and choose a new setting for. (I did choose a new setting and I do love it!)
The speechlessness quickly passed, and as I sometimes do when I’m nervous, I eventually began to chitter chatter and talked about the story of the dung beetle, which the guide discussed in great detail on an outing that HH2B wasn’t a part of the day before. We laughed and smiled some more, and kind of wished the moment never had to end, but thought about the rest of the folks back at the camp, perhaps waiting for us before actually starting out on the game drive. (Ferdie and his wife, Prudence, had arranged for us to take a special drive on a neighbouring reserve that day where we might see elephants or lions and other game that wasn’t on the Makhasa Reserve.)
The guide returned to pick us up, and we were off for our first game drive as a soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Collie.
And we did spot some lions. Kind of, barely.
But also some buffalo…
And look, that’s the diamond!
And that, dear friends, was the beginning of the plans for a wedding that was privileged to enjoy guests from England, Scotland, Germany and different parts of the good old USA, but some of the most beloved in attendance came all the way from the magical spot where it all began, our beloved South Africa.
Five and a half long months later, I was Mrs. Hero Hubs.
Six and a half months later, we discovered we were expecting a little one, our beloved Bear.
And though our mailing address has in the last three and a half years changed five times and spanned three continents, I am ever so glad that my first proper slice of South Africa led to the pie of an adventure that has befallen this little ol’ gal from Eastern North Carolina.
You’d think the South wasn’t southern enough, wouldn’t ya?
xCC
Nov 9, 2010 | South Africa, Travel..ling Tuesdays
Last week I was busy in the telling of the adventure wherein seven long and arduous flights found me in Cape Town, travelling up-country with a delightful fellow who was not yet Hero Hubs. (To read part one, click here.) And where we left off, I’d just unknowingly met my future father- and mother-in-love, and enjoyed a few days in beautiful Bloemfontein.
Now pressing on!
After the delightful stay in Bloem, we pressed on toward the northeast of South Africa, passing through the Golden Gate National Park, which was gorgeous, to say the least.
The reminders that we’d soon be returning to Bonnie Scotland continued…
and we occasionally stopped to fully take in the amazing scenery passing by our windows.
But finally we made it to Makhasa Game Reserve, in Kwa-Zulu Natal, where friends of the future-HH were field guide and host.
Sans hair dryers or running water in our dwellings, we were properly in the bush.
See? This male Nyala is blocking the way to my tent! It is under that covered awning there!
The week that unfolded at Makhasa was unforgettable for a gabillion reasons.
I never dreamed of seeing some of the sites I took in, up close and personal.
Dung beetles are so incredible they deserve their own blog post. Hold me to that.
I also had no idea how frightened I should’ve been when the field guide told me to quietly step down, as he chose me to follow him and approach a rhino on foot.
The future HH was wrestling between taking photos and picking up the field guide’s rifle just in case.
Wild, majestic, magical Africa unfolded before my eyes day after day.
I found so much cause for thankfulness, enjoying God’s amazing creation in things great and small.
Care to guess which one’s the female funnel-web spider?
HH-to-be was carefully giving no clue that he had it in mind to ask me to marry him. And when the subject came up, even after such confirmations as my favouritest phone call ever, he threw curve balls by talking about needing more confirmation from the Lord, and being unsure of his next steps.
The day before our last full day there, I went for a walk on the beach while HH2B went scuba diving in Sodwana Bay. (I gave it a go, but wasn’t ready for diving yet.) I prayed and spoke to the Lord about my heart, feeling a little discouraged at being in the perfect place, in such perfect surroundings, and what felt like such perfect timing for a proposal. I like to get honest. I just couldn’t imagine a more magical story than this one, to be the start of our journey toward marriage and life together.
I was walking back toward the spot where I’d meet HH2B when he finished diving when the Lord showed me a rock sitting on the sand near my feet. It looked like sand itself, rough and multi-coloured. Since it looked so much like sand, I almost wouldn’t have noticed it was there, if my attention hadn’t somehow been drawn to it. I picked it up and felt the Lord was saying “You can’t see what I’m doing right now, but trust Me. I’m moving.”
I was met with incredible peace.
And the adventure that lay ahead of me was so overwhelmingly great, that after all these photos and stories, it needs to be told fully all on its own.
Can you make it till tomorrow to hear the tale? {Here’s the story.}
xCC
{Happy Tuesday!!! My heart, thankful for things great and small, has linked up to Chatting at the Sky today. If it has remembered.}
Nov 2, 2010 | South Africa, Stories, Travel..ling Tuesdays
The year was 2006. I’d been dating a guy I’d known for a year for about four months. And for some crazy reason I took seven flights to visit him in South Africa over the holidays. We planned it mind you…I didn’t just show up! I’d been to South Africa once before, but only to Johannesburg, and briefly, so that didn’t really count … this trip was my first proper introduction to the amazing beauty of South Africa.
A few days after Christmas ’06 I was on a flight from Raleigh, NC to New York (La Guardia) to Shannon to Dublin to Edinburgh … a brief pause to visit my flat in Edinburgh, shower, change clothes, change my suitcases from winter gear to summer gear, nap and head back to the airport … to Paris to Johannesburg to Cape Town.
What’s love got to do with it?
Probably everything.
Eventually Kulula encouraged me to slide that seat belt around those gorgeous hips and get ready for take off — me and all the other passengers listening to the pre-flight announcements — and I was on that last leg of the journey…six flights behind me, Table Mountain ahead of me…and so, so much more.
I thought this Travelling Tuesday I’d take you for a little travelling stroll down memory lane from just a few years ago. And it all started here. And I’m not sure why Julie’s not smiling, cos she’s a happy gal.
Upon arrival in Cape Town, Hero Hubs (who wasn’t Hubs at the time) planned for us to take a wee sunset cruise. He thought it would be a lovely transition from seven cooped and confined flights to spacious open seas, and incredible views of one of the potential New Seven Wonders of the World, Table Mountain, and the city she presides over.
Normally, late December in SA is summa summa summatime. Sadly my friends, the southeaster, she was a blowing. There was a blustery nip in the air, which I was prepared for with trousers and a jacket.
But then what had happened was…
The catamaran’s captain took a sharp turn just past the harbour wall. Did I mention the southeaster was a-blowing? The sea was angry that day my friend. And in that one sharp turn, we were down a deep and watery trough, and up the other side, but heavily, heavily splashed in the interim. Soaked.
So for the next hour or two of the sunset cruise, we were too shivery to enjoy our drinks, and too seasick to enjoy the scenery. Did I mention the southeaster was a-blowin’? But I was so happy to be in SA with my (unbeknownst to me future-) HH, I was not terribly despairing and we laughed at the thought that it could only get better from there.
And it did.
We spent the next few days, staying with HH’s aunt and uncle, and adventuring all over the Cape Peninsula.
Our wee rental scooter took us to Camps Bay Beach.
And to HH’s favourite beach in the world, Llandudno. (Not to be confused with the original Llandudno in Wales. My guess is this one is slightly more picturesque.)
We scooted along Chapman’s Peak Drive
and two weeks of soaking in of some of the most amazing vistas my two and a half decades had ever afforded me commenced.
On New Year’s Eve, we joined some friends to celebrate at the Twelve Apostles Hotel and HH (to-be) kept saying he thought he was hearing bagpipes. I politely reminded him that we were very far away from Scotland and that it was highly unlikely, and it must’ve been the Muzak playing. But as I stood up a few minutes later to find the loo, I glanced out the window and saw…
A piper in full regalia reminding us that in a few weeks we’d be back in chilly, wintry Scotland. Enjoy every moment! the pipes seemed to say.
On the beach, under the stars we rang in the New Year.
Our little scooter allowed us to pass the incredibly long queue of cars waiting to head up Table Mountain on New Year’s Day.
And we enjoyed some incredible views from the top.
After a wonderful couple of days in Cape Town, our road trip up the country commenced! We stopped off in Hermanus to visit some friends. {Remember Hermanus and the mischievous dassies?}
As the story goes, a South African and an American met in Britain…
And then we overnighted in Knysna, a place I introduced some of you to just a few weeks ago!
And though the reminders of Scotland continued…
We were on our way, for my first-ever visit to Bloemfontein, where I (unknowingly) met my future father- and mother-in-love for the first time!
The adventures of that first week in SA hold too many wonderful memories to fit into a single blog post. And though our arrival in Bloem meant about a week of my time in SA had passed, the greatest adventure of my first proper slice of South Africa was still ahead.
Can you tune in next week to hear the tale? {It’s right here.}
xCC
Oct 16, 2010 | South Africa, Stories
A couple days ago HH, the Bear and I were on the road to visit an orphanage near Paarl to explore a potential partnership. In my mind I’d imagined being greeted by a quaint little building, lots of bunk beds, and smiling faces that might look a lot disheveled, a little hungry.
I didn’t get the greeting I bargained for.
Through one of our friends at Paarl Family Church, we were being introduced to a woman named Mirriam. I’d heard the words “The Mirriam Project†mentioned, which made me picture fancy lettering on brochures, marketing, and a team of dedicated people taking care of orphans in need.
I was way off.
We drove into a township just outside Paarl, passing gates and fences, grassless front yards and cinderblock homes, tiny puppies and kittens roaming dirt roads. These scenes have become familiar to me… shacks and fruit stands, surprising ingenuity and abject poverty sitting side by side. A vintage Coca-Cola sign closes a gap to make the wall of a small shack complete.
We turned onto a side street and pulled Potato to a grumbly diesel stop halfway off the road on a patch of gravel. Through the gate of a tiny lot, perhaps not much bigger than some of your living rooms, stood a six foot container, decorated and being used as a home, and next to it a reasonably sized shack constructed of split pole walls and corrugated tin roofing.
Inside the kitchen stood a small stove, a large, deep freezer chest, a creatively constructed centre island workstation that also provided storage, a dividing wall with cupboards, separating the living area from the kitchen. I’ve lived in homes with bigger bathrooms than the living area of the home, but it was tidy and well kept. A small table skirt neatly laid over the armchair where the Bear and I took a seat.
And then we were introduced to Mirriam.*
Inside the walls of this tiny shack, two back rooms with bunk beds, another room with a double bed, Mirriam is a mother for twenty-five children. Ranging in age from 1 or 2 to twenty, she is a living testimony to James 1:27:
Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this: to visit widows and orphans in distress and to keep oneself unspotted from the world.
She has taken in children with nowhere else to go. Children on their death beds. Children who have been counted worthless by the world and abandoned.
A tiny little one, even younger than the Bear toddled in with a helping hand. She had a heart-tugging smile. Her name was Virginia.**
She was left in a trash bag, and some people called me to come. I went and opened the bag and she was purple from the heat. No one thought she would live. When I brought her home everyone said “You bring death to this house.†But I prayed and fasted and worshipped God. I am a worshipper and when I worship, people are healed. At the hospital they said there was no hope, but they took her and cared for her and then I got a call to come. I was afraid she had died, but I said to the Lord, “Lord, if you do love me, You won’t bring this to me. Please, if You are the God You say You are, it will be well.†When I arrived at the hospital, she was well, and the nurses told me I could bring her home.
I watched as another little boy named Joseph stood by Mirriam’s chair. Also younger than the Bear, his head was at just the right height to rest on her lap. As she continued to share her life and the stories of the children with us, Joseph’s eyes softly closed and I expected him to soon fall asleep standing up. He’d been found in an empty house. His mother had left him alone there. I’m not sure if they knew for how long.
Mirriam also shared the story of another boy who had just come to live with them. Isaac had been left on Miriam’s doorstep. His mother came to ask for help, and while they were still talking, she left him there and ran away. They ran out of the house to try to find her, but no one knew who she was or where the baby had come from.
Mirriam’s sister lives in the container on the lot with some of the children, others are in the bunk beds in the two rooms off to one side. Mirriam sleeps in another room in a double bed with the smallest of the children.
You might expect a zoo from a tiny shack with 25 children, but the place was filled with incredible peace. Before we closed our time together with prayer, Mirriam and her sister, and some of the older children joined in singing for us. It was beautiful and humbling and I was ashamed at the things that I struggle with in this life.
The Grape Community, a non-profit organisation birthed by a table grape exporting company called The Grape Company, has been supporting Mirriam and the children. We work on what I had previously considered a tight grocery budget. But on a grocery budget even smaller than mine she manages to make sure the children have food and even meat to eat that lasts throughout the month. I imagine the miracle of the fishes and the loaves happening inside that chest freezer every month. With financial support and partnership from The Grape Community here, a generous gift there, they manage to make ends meet and keep tummies supplied, and hopefully pay the electricity.
The Grape Community has pulled together the finances to buy a plot of land where they hope to build several homes for the children. The ratio demanded by the government is four or five children to one house mother. They haven’t found the land and they don’t yet have the funds to begin building.
Invisible strings from HH’s and my heart have been pulled and tied to Mirriam’s ministry. Beyond blessing the children with shoes. Beyond giving when we are able. We don’t yet know how, but we want to be more involved.
I’m looking forward to extending the invitation for you to be involved, too.
“I give them love, I give them education, I give them God,†says Mirriam.
Pure and undefiled religion before God. Lord, help your whole Church to shine like this for You.
xCC
*Pictured above: Pastor Michael (a pastor from Mirriam’s area we thought we should introduce to her), Annemarie, our friend from the Grape Community, Mirriam, Virginia (with a yawn!), Me & the Bear. (I am not sure what the little one in the front’s name is!)
** I’ve changed names and a few details to protect the children in this story.
Oct 15, 2010 | South Africa, Stories
We arrived in Bloemfontein yesterday evening, after about 11 hours in the car, with a poor grumbly bear hopped up on candy (a new strategy for making the long road trips a little easier) wading our way through what the South Africans call “stop-go’s.†Translation: Road Works, Road Works, and more Road Works. Sit-still-and-watch-the-people-on-this-end-who-are-not-communicating-with-the-people-on-the-other-end-properly-so-the-last-car-came-through-five-minutes-ago-and-they-still-aren’t-moving-the-cones-Road-Works. Eish.
We’re here delivering shoes to a ministry partner working in an impoverished area outside of the city, and we’ve already had a meeting with another inspiring lady and one of her colleagues just this morning. They are doing some wonderful work in another poor township outside the city and it feels like a privilege to talk about partnering with them in the year to come. They are feeding and clothing poor and vulnerable children, and I’m running out of adjectives to describe their hearts and their work — inspiring just doesn’t seem to cut it!
We’re still taking a photo here and there with our little digital camera, for which we are very thankful, but it’s just not the same as the big bright shots that came from our Canon! Hero Hubs’ Mom is an excellent gardener and I would love to show you some shots of her garden in full bloom right now. (Remember it’s spring in the southern hemi!) I may still have a photo for you here and there but I’m afraid they won’t be nearly as inpsiring as usual! Here’s one from the files…this was in Mom-in-love’s garden almost a year ago! Wasn’t the Bear a little cherub?
Anywho, this is just an update that 1) all is well and we’re safely in Bloem, 2) the Bear is enjoying the change of scenery, 3) I’m now having to lean forward a little to see my toes and 4) I’m looking forward to another visit to Kloppers. That’s the magical department store I think I’ve told you about where you can find fine china and hunting gear, crafty stuff and bicycles. You can buy a washing machine, a camping tent, and two-way radios, or have a piece of glass cut just the right size to fit a picture frame you bought on the side of the road for a song. 🙂 While I don’t really spend much at Kloppers, I sure do enjoy wandering those carpeted Afrikaans aisles.
I hope you’re encouraged today! I have an … you may have guessed it … inspiring story to share with you (I hope tomorrow) from our visit to an ‘orphanage’ (if that’s the right name for it) that we visited Wednesday. Hopefully I can work on painting a decent picture with words for you this week!
Many thanks to those of you who’ve been praying for us during all these travels. We’ve been in need of grace, and Grace has found us!
xCC
P.S. I was privileged to be featured in a “Mommies with Swagger†interview over at the Dameron Girlz today. Check it out here!
Oct 7, 2010 | South Africa, Stories
Well, lads and lassies, I would have some really great pictures to share with you today. We had a special shoe distribution for some beautiful children in Masiphumelele. They were 4 to 6 years old, with tiny smiling faces and beaming pearly whites. One beaming little boy arrived in bedroom shoes like the Bear’s, worn through and worn out, and I was so happy at the thought that he would be getting new shoes today!
But there were a few ugh…hiccoughs.
As we began sizing the children’s feet in preparation for the footwashing, we realised we’d incorrectly estimated what sizes we would need. Hero Hubs and I discussed what our best option would be … blessing half the kids and bringing shoes for the rest next week just didn’t seem like a good idea. Three pre-primary schools had come together for the distribution. Eventually we decided to make the two and a half hour round trip adventure from just outside Cape Town back to Gordon’s Bay to get more shoes, and we’d bring the shoes back and the distribution would happen in the afternoon instead of the morning.
We were on our way, making phone calls to rearrange and reschedule other bits and pieces of the next few days because of this mishap, and the weather which had been foreboding and windy all morning seemed like it was taking a turn for the worse as a drizzly sprinkle began.
We travelled the Beach Road back to Gordon’s Bay and Hero Hubs noticed a fragile and skinny looking lady, in a pink winter hat and scarf, who was hoping to catch a ride. {The Bear was not in the car with us, in case you’re getting worried.} It was an usual decision as we have probably only given lifts to people about three times in the year that we’ve been here. As the fragile lady climbed in, I looked back to begin to chat with her, and to say the least she had a rather strange appearance. Her makeup was unusually heavy, eyebrows thickly drawn on and eyes outlined in black.
She chatted with me, polite but a little distant, and as I looked back at the shoe sizing list in front of me, I began to ask for her help to decide whether the names on the list were boy’s names or girl’s names. (We have boy shoes and girl shoes for these young ages, so we try to make sure to have a good spread to cover each gender.)
Finally we came to the off-ramp where she wanted to be dropped off, and she asked us to go over the overpass and drop her on the other side. Her conversation in the car had seemed strange and stilted, her departure was just weird, and HH and I kind of looked at each other like Ugh…what? And then I fortuitously happened to grab the camera bag out of the back. I began to say, “Well at least she didn’t steal our camera….” but as I picked up the bag, I realised it was MUCH lighter than it should have been.
SHE STOLE OUR CAMERA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
She’d somehow managed to unzip the camera bag without us hearing, and with HH keeping an eye on her. She slipped out both cameras* and she zipped the bag closed again without us knowing. Hero Hubs slammed on the brakes, reversed down the hill on the grassy shoulder, and threw it into drive. We were in hot pursuit, on our way up the down ramp to catch the thief. Cars wondered what the heck we were doing and pulled out of the way as I tried to gesture frantically, Sorry, but it’s an emergency!!!! Good thing we were still in our friends’ Land Rover from the Jeffrey’s Bay trip.
*Let me pause for a moment to better explain exactly what had just been stolen. 1) Our Canon 40D. The camera we decided to invest in before the Bear was born. A, so that we could take good photos in Scotland for the grandparents thousands of miles away in the US and SA. And B, so that we could take photos for our ministry partners to share about our work in Scotland, and now SA. 2) Our handheld video camera. A similar investment decision, we bought this little video camera to make movies for friends and family far away. My Dad and my brother helped us buy it as a Christmas present in 2007. Please don’t make me add up the totals of how much we just lost — I am just not ready to look at those numbers yet.
So back to the emergency.
We fly up the down ramp and jump out of the Landy to start asking questions. Did you see a lady come by here wearing a pink beanie and a scarf?
We began asking questions, my heart sinking minute by minute, and we started to drive through the area looking for her.
The community jumped into action. A couple of guys spoke with a group on the street, and a guy with dreadlocks and a mountain bike took off with purpose. Two other guys who were helping us look hopped in to lead us to the train station where she might have run. They ran up the stairs like their life depended on it, across the bridge over the tracks, down the other side, and started asking questions.
No one had seen her. They got back into the car and pursuit continued. At this point we’d called the police twice but hadn’t seen them yet. As the guys directed us on where to circle again, we came back to the group of friends, and they were gesturing for us to come quickly.
The guy on the mountain bike produced our little handheld video camera. My heart leapt and sank at the same time.
They’d seen the lady. They’d caught the lady. They took the camera away from the lady.
But there was one problem. We had never explained that there were two cameras. So she coughed up the smaller, less expensive of the two, and they let her go.
And then there was a realisation. That was actually a man dressed as a woman. So all this time we’d been asking “Have you seen this lady…” we should’ve been saying what the locals say: “Het jy ‘n lang skraal moffie gesien?” Which loosely translates: “Have you seen a tall thin homosexual guy around here?” {This is not meant to be offensive toward anyone with alternative sexual preferences. I am just explaining what the locals would say, and telling the story how it happened.}
When mountain bike hero realised there were two cameras, his face showed how disappointed he was, and he was off in pursuit again. Equally, the neighbourhood gang handed us our camera with joy, but then was so disappointed to know there was another camera out there.
We were off on the trail again. Meanwhile, we passed a gentleman in a green truck whom we’d asked earlier if he’d seen the…moffie. He took HH’s business card to let him know if he found anything out, and he went off in a different direction to help us look. He knew where the druggies usually went to sell stuff.
Eventually the gentleman in the green truck phoned us to say he’d found out the last name of the guy who’d stolen the cameras, and also where s/he worked. We passed the guy in the green truck later, and he said he had to get back to the office, but he planned to look some more when he got off work.
By this time, it seemed hopeless, and we knew we had to go and fetch the shoes to take back to Masiphumelele before it was time for the children to go home. It was tough to move on.
The amazing thing was that we recovered a camera, the unfortunate thing that we didn’t recover the camera. But here’s hoping the lang skraal moffie will have a change of heart, or pass it on to someone who will look at the smiling faces of the children we took pictures of this morning, see the Samaritan’s Feet posters in the background, and choose to do the right thing!
We were really, really blessed to see this community, one that might look rough around the edges from the outside, come together and rally to try to help us in such a trying moment. They really cared about what happened, and really wanted the wrong to be righted. They don’t want the wrongdoing of a few to give a reputation to everyone else.
In the end, SABC3 didn’t show up, and we didn’t even have our camera to take photos of the beautiful kids that received a pair of shoes today. But great things happened. Jesus’ Name was lifted up. As the afternoon came to a close, the children gathered to sing praises to the Lord and to thank Him and us for their new shoes. And that one little boy who arrived in holey bedroom shoes left in a sturdy pair of shoes that will protect his feet for a long time.
And if it was all for just one of those kids to know that God loves them and cares about them, then it was all worth it.
Today was a good day, and God can work everything together for good if we love Him and trust Him.
I’ve got a feeling, lang skraal moffie or not, this story ain’t over yet.
xCC
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