Back home

It's so weird being home. I feel like there's been a sudden and abrupt shift in settings. But I think I can finally recap on my last day of ministry. Last Friday was so great. I got to meet the parents of all those kids who I've come to love and it's so assuring to know that they have older siblings to look up to, brothers, especially, because of the absence of father figures. So we dropped off our gifts, gave our last goodbyes, and headed our way up to the compounds. I was actually proud of myself for holding back those tears. But when I was about halfway there. I heard Lenard, this boy who always gets picked on, just crying nonstop. I turn around and I see him sobbing face down in the dirt while all the other kids just stared. The other interns started walking away and I just stood there, not knowing what to do. I know we had already said our final goodbye, but I knew that if I walked away at that point, I could not live with myself. I couldn't leave knowing that I was fully capable of being there for him, of showing love to him, when everyone else abandoned him, if I just retraced a couple steps backwards. I felt an urge to run back and hold him in my arms and cry with him. It just broke my heart so much seeing this little boy cry. He's the one who's always in the background, being overlooked and bullied by everyone. He's not the brightest in the classroom, but he's not too scared to raise his hand. He's not the cutest of the kids, but he never ceases to smile. He's always the one helping me with bags of classroom materials too heavy for him to carry. He never asks for "one peekchah". He doesn't tease others. He doesn't ask for toys, shoes, money, anything. And at the end of everyday, he's always the one holding my hand and walking me to the end of the road, just to say a brief good bye, even though he lives on the opposite side, even when he has to walk home alone right after. Seeing him hurt was so unfair. Seeing him abandoned was just too much. I couldn't do that to him. I ran back and completely broke down, in front of him, in front of all the kids. I know we're not supposed to cry, because that's not how we want the kids to remember us. But something just told me it was okay. It's okay to cry, to share the pain with someone else if it means taking part of that pain away. We just sat there for a moment, crying.

I realized at that moment that I was going to come back to Malawi. It's too symbolic. I've given my heart to these kids, they've given their heart to me. Of course I'm going to feel pain when they are hurting. I've placed my heart in Malawi and I'm suffering each day without it. Though I'm back in the states, I feel as I did that day when I was standing there in the middle, watching him cry. But, I'm here, knowing that there are kids crying at this very moment, kids suffering, sick, starving, except this time, I can't just run back. Though I feel helpless, I trust in God's timing. I know He'll say "Go", and when He does, I'll be soaring.

So on our last day in Malawi, we decided to walk to the Obama shop one last time to get some nzimbe (sugar cane) and cokes (Obamas are these huge lumps of bread that the Malawians named after our president, I don't know, it was random, it used to be called Bin Laden in 2001) and across the road, I hear someone calling my name. And there was Lenardi, all smiles. I'm so thankful I got to see him one last time. He's taught me so much about not only turning the other cheek, but to continue to show love while doing so. He's so strong. At that moment, I knew that everything would be okay, that God's watching over him.

Love, Love, Love,

Angela