Hammer on Anvil '

Recently my husband, John, and I were called upon to provide respite care. It was our first opportunity since being licensed as foster parents in April, because I have had some health issues that would have prevented me from running after small children.

For those who are not familiar with respite care, it means providing care for children whose foster parents are temporarily unable to do so. In this case, the foster family had to go out of state for nine days to attend a funeral.

Three children, ages 5 and under, were our guests for those nine days. The youngest was still a baby, under two years of age. My biggest challenge was that at times she was inconsolable. She wailed and cried, and generally in those circumstances I am able to hold and comfort a child till they calm down. Not this child. She arched her back and pushed me away. It broke my heart because though comfort was there for the taking, she refused it.

At first I think my pride was a bit hurt. I reared three sons and am now the mother of three beautiful grandchildren, and I can't get a baby to stop crying? Have I lost my touch? John saw how distraught I was, and reminded me that it's not about us. My parenting skills were not in question.

I began to try to put myself in this little one's place. Though she was very young, she displayed definite attachment issues -- and it's no wonder. Already in foster care, suddenly she was dropped off at the home of total strangers. She had a blanket to call her own, but everything else in our house was totally unfamiliar to her. Why should she allow me to comfort her? Why should she trust me?

God used this situation to remind me that I am like this little girl. He is there all the time, and has promised to provide all that I need. Yet I have little tantrums and push Him away when He tries to draw me to himself. I have struggled with "attachment issues" with God because my relationship with my earthly parents was far from ideal. So how can I expect this precious little girl to attach to me in nine short days?

Yet she did attach. After a week or so, she was no longer content to simply be laid in her crib at night. She would squawk, and I would come in and rock her. Just a couple minutes was all she needed, and then she was ready for sleep. We had learned to communicate, and trust was established.

Are you like a little child who refuses to be comforted, or have you learned to trust in your heavenly Father? Even if your parents were abusive and/or toxic, you can learn to see God in a different light. He is not like earthly parents. He will never leave you nor forsake you. He truly is a Father to the fatherless (Psalm 68:5).

This will probably be the last entry about my trip to South Africa. Though I learned more than I could possibly put into these blogs, I think I have hit on the highlights.

The picture at the right depicts an after-school feeding program that takes place at Lighthouse Christian Church in Mokopane, Limpopo, South Africa. Blessman Ministries feeds 7,000 orphans a day in various venues, and this is one of them.

Nearly 1,000 children are orphaned due to AIDS in South Africa every day. Our team got to spend a couple hours visiting an orphanage one day, and I didn't want to leave. One little girl was noticeably lethargic, and wasn't interested in playing like the other children.  Later I saw her holding her head and crying. Turns out she had a splitting headache. She has advanced HIV and her prognosis is grim.

Then there was Julia, whom I mentioned in my first South Africa blog. She is a 6-year-old bundle of energy. She and I played on the swings and the slides. When we approached the merry-go-round, a bunch of boys were already on it, going at breakneck speed. I told Julia to let me slow it down first so she could get on. But she simply jumped on, seemingly unaware of the possible danger. When I mentioned this to my husband, he said, "Well after what she's been through, what is there to be afraid of?" Sadly, he is right. When you are raped at 18 months of age and placed in an orphanage, what is a recklessly fast merry-go-round in comparison?

James 1:27 tells us, "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress." It is an admonition that I have chosen to ignore for much of my life. I have helped widows on occasion, but closed my eyes to the problem of unwanted children.

Before my husband and I went to South Africa, God had been moving on our hearts to do foster care. Our trip sealed the deal for us and confirmed what we believed God was telling us to do. One night shortly after we returned from our trip, I was crying out to God on behalf of the children I had seen at the orphanage. In the midst of my prayers God spoke to me, "There are children like that in your own back yard." Yes, indeed there are. We plan to begin foster care training as soon as a class is scheduled.

The best thing about our trip? Well, playing with the orphan children was great. Washing feet and distributing shoes to needy children was awesome. Watching people's vision improve dramatically when we fitted them with the right eyeglass lenses was wonderful. But by far the best thing was allowing God to speak to us and stir our hearts in the midst of the ministry. It wasn't so much about what WE were doing, but what God was doing in each one of us.

Mission trips aren't about going to a faraway place briefly and coming back to "normal life." They're about being challenged in your walk of faith, and coming back forever changed, with a heart pierced anew with the things that pierce the heart of God. I don't want to go back to "normal." To quote Katie Davis, author of Kisses from Katie, "I was forever ruined for comfort, convenience and luxury, preferring instead challenge, sacrifice, and risking everything to do something I believe in."