Monday-

Today we got to visit two of the associations that World Relief partners with. We saw sewing communities and basket weavers and women sorting coal to sell. We laughed with children who passed around a “mzungu wig” to show off. We heard stories of women infected with HIV/AIDS. How God is providing for them, even after their husbands have died, even after children have died, even after they had been ostracized from their families and communities, they have found health and healing and new life in Jesus. One magnificent choir sang a song that they wrote to mobilize people in their community to get tested. They danced down low to the ground, holding their heads and moaning and screaming of the fear when people realize they have the disease “Oh no, I am going to die… what will I do?” they sang, and the women in the service laughed, I assume remembering that time in their lives as well. Then the choir burst upward, arms lifted in praise as they continued their song in an energy of life. “Jesus gave us a new life and we look forward to meeting him in heaven. Jesus gives us a new life now and we praise him now.” And most of the women in the room were clapping and smiling and singing along. I noticed one, near the front, who was welled up with tears that were quietly sliding down her face. I wondered what her story is. If she is brand new diagnosed, or if she has just lost someone dear. We had to leave early so I didn’t’ get to ask. But I am praying for God to do a work in her life like he is so beautiful of doing. To wrap his arms around her tightly. And now you can too.

At another service in the afternoon, there was a drama team made up mostly of teenage orphans that performed for the women and men… also all infected with HIV/AIDS. The talent in these boys was amazing… complete abandon and buffoonery to make the women laugh… and laugh then did. They howled and slapped each other and massaged their cheeks that were aching with joy. We had been sat in the front of the room, facing the audience, and as my children laughed along and acted out parts they found funny… the women notice them and screamed in laughter all over again. The pastor explained to me quietly that these boys had started this ministry to give the women moments like these. Moments of laughter, when all their troubles were gone for an afternoon as they dripped with joy. After an hour of skits, the women sighing with rest after giving so much energy into their enjoyment, the pastor stood and called out “Is anyone here sick?” and they all shouted “NO!” We sang and some told their stories. Stories filled with fear and sadness and betrayal and death and life and hope and joy… always shouting ALLELUIA to punctuate the reality and intensity of God’s work in their lives..

They asked me to share. I have nothing to offer these strong women, who have seen more of life and more of God than I can testify to.

I told them that.

I told them that I was so blessed to be invited to sit with them and look into their beautiful, beautiful faces. That I could see Jesus in their smiles. That my heart was overflowing with their love. That I was honored to take their photos and stories and smiles and share them with my community in America so we could join in praying for each other on each side of the world. And then I held Avery close and sang “Blesssed Assurance, Jesus is mine. Oh what a foretaste of glory divine. This is my story. This is my song. Praising my savoir all the day long. This is my story. This is my song. Praising my savior all the day long”. Emily joined in with a sweet harmony and the peace was heavy throught the room.

and i was, once again, crying.