A few weeks ago the Pastor at my church, Ron, showed the dance team a slide show of the orphan school in Zambia. Ron took me to Zambia a year and a half ago; he took me to Zambia again that night. I recognized several children and some adults. I couldn't help but cry... because I love Zambia.
When I was in Greece this spring, all I could talk about was Zambia... because in my heart is Zambia! "For the mouth speaks out of that which fills the heart." (Matt. 12:34).
The people are beautiful. The children, dirty, hungry, and sometimes sick, are beautiful. I remember the little boy that smelled of urine who fell asleep in my lap, during the soccer tournament. He slept for nearly an hour--probably the safest, and most comfortable sleep he'd had in a long time. The older boys kept trying to wake him. I remember that I smelled of urine too after he got up. It was so worth it. The little girls had a field day with my long golden locks of hair, little girls who had no hair to speak of. When they got done, my hair was knotted and dirty. I think they are still my favorite hair stylists. I remember the girls of Nalulau taking me swimming! I remember having to press past the shock of everyone else running around naked... I remember the women teasing me for days. I want to go back there. Swimming with them was an honor.
I remember expecting to face hopelessness in Zambia. I remember what I saw in Zambia... When I looked into their eyes, I saw all the beauty of God's dreams for them. I saw destiny in the eyes of the boy who probably wouldn't live to be an adult. I saw beautiful plans, plans to prosper and not to harm, plans for freedom, in the eyes of the girl who was abused. I could only see what God has for them, the dreams that He dreamed before the world began, the hope that He still has. I saw the beauty in the ashen sand.
"Dear God, When will it be time to go back? Love, Me."