My soul was dead to the dire needs of these deep browned-eyed children. Oh the stories these eyes could tell.
My son’s soul in the background of these deep brown-eyed children, awakened as well.
Our souls awakened! AWAKE! Continue to awake our souls, O God.
How could I have wanted more, bigger, better? I writhe in shame.
God allowed my soul to be awakened when I lived these moments.
I realized how precious, precious, precious children are to him. “Red, yellow, black and white–they are precious in his sight.”
God is here now, awakening these dear ones in my soul, hushing away the hurry and worry of my life. God is here now awakening a much deeper need.
I ended my previous post with our day of service in this Bauleni compound where my son and my kids live. We and other Americans and their kids gathered at a compound church for lunch. There were who I believe to be Missionary Baptist women inside praying and singing.
As we waited outside, we snapped photos of the compound children.
This young girl’s hands in the photo disturbs me. If you notice, her hands are white. It is common for African women to bleach their faces to lighten their complexion but this girl’s hands are bleached completely white. Why? Did she suffer abuses?
I think it amazing that my Jacob, is holding up the Evangecube with Jesus’ hands and feet pierced on the cross. I pray for redemption for this girl through Christ’s suffering.
As the Missionary Baptist women existed the church, they were so welcoming, sweet, and full of hugs and graciousness. It’s amazing the bond between Christians across culturals when we love the same Jesus.
As we entered the church to serve our children lunch, other children, not a part of the Camp LIFE program, stood curious, longing, wanting.
We ate lunch and enjoyed the shade with our children.
The other children continued to gaze wanting a crumb off our humble lap tables.
My heart broke for these deep brown-eyed souls whose images haunt me still. We fed them portions like animals begging for a treat.
I should have given them all my food. I would have survived until dinner. Will they survive until next year when we pray to return?
I am haunted by these longing souls. I weep each time I think about them, look at them, even now.
But still, as we ate, our children showed signs of new life.
They shared with each other the Evangecube, the story of Christ.
Souls awakened! Hope for generations to come!