LESIBOVU

Africa… is everything you expect it to be but more. You grow up seeing pictures and signs at the grocery stores asking for donations to help a child in need. It’s not until you take a 2 hr. bus drive to a small village in the middle of nowhere to meet these many sweet faces and realize it’s all real.

Growing up my family was never an affectionate one. We didn’t grow up giving each other hugs or saying goodnight/good morning, sadly we rarely even had anything nice to say to one another. This is just how we showed our love… or how I thought love was. Through this, I learned to dislike physical touch and dodged/ignored compliments. I remember in my teenage years I would watch other families around me and desire that for mine. I would desire a “perfect picket fence” family. Truth is, those only exist in the movies. There is no perfect family and mine was perfectly imperfect.

The children at the care point in Lesibovu … the ones that the Lord used to wreck my heart and soften it. On day one of ministry nobody knew exactly what to expect but we had ideas of what it might be like. When the first group of kids arrived after school it suddenly felt safe. Laughter, joy, and innocence filled the land. After 5 minutes of waiting, there were around 100 kids. It was as if nothing else in this world mattered. There wasn’t a single thought in our minds except them. The way their eyes grew large and smiles from ear to ear. You could see in their little eyes how much they instantly fell in love with us. They could spend hours staring at each of us as if we were the most beautiful things on planet Earth. Some would jump on top of you like a jungle gym and others would just sit and soak up your presence. Some would tug your hand roughly to go play while others simply just enjoyed having a hand on your forearm just to feel your nearness. It was at this moment, I had yet to realize they were healing a part of my childhood. When the time passed and 6 weeks with these precious children felt like 1, I began to understand that God sent me to them for this reason.

Most times as a missionary we think WE are going to do this magnificent thing and pour into the people across seas, and yes, a large portion is speaking life and sharing the gospel with the lost. However, there is a small portion that not a lot of people know/talk about. The ones who testify to you about how good the Lord has been and the ones who project His love regardless of their circumstances. How could these children still have so much joy not knowing if they will be going to sleep hungry? Why do visually impaired men and women still sing praises to the Lord on the side of a mall? Jesus has already met the nations. It’s not a sport. It’s not an act of good deeds and works. Missions is a gift from God to find Him.

On our final day in Lesibovu, we were told not to cry because of cultural differences and it could affect the children seeing us in that state. I fought everything in me not to but failed. Some of them would hug you, smile up at you, and say goodbye playfully not knowing that was the last time they would ever see you. Others who were a bit older knew and would simply just look into your eyes and hug you just a bit tighter and longer. In my opinion, you never truly experience true heartbreak until this moment. All those breakups? Can’t compare. I left a piece of my heart in Lesibovu, simply because the Lord used some of them to heal that piece.

Africa is everything you expected… and more.