9/23/07 Sunday

Yesterday I helped paint one of the girls dorm rooms. It has been a challenge for me the last few days. The kids here have so much and yet so little compared to western standards. I have had to continually remind myself that I am in a 3rd world country. The poverty here is so overwhelming that there is such a stark contrast between outside and inside the walls of Zimpeto. It's hard to see the handful of outfits the children have, or the mattresses with holes in them, or few old toy the children in the baby house have to play with. You want to scream, this is a children's center filled with orphans, shouldn't they have more. Then I walk out the gate of the center and am struck in the face again by where I am. These children are given so much more than any other mozambicans have. They have 3 huge (by comparison) meals a deal-bread and sometimes butter for breakfast, and rice with various different toppings for lunch and dinner. They have warm beds with clean linens, and clothes, and shoes. They have running water (very cold water, but water all the same) and electicity 95% of the time. They are safe and loved and taught the word of God. They are given a good education and are given opportunities most Mozambicans can never dream of. But it's still hard to see when you compare it to what we have here in America. They are taught to depend on God for their provisions and needs since that is what they will need when leaving the center. And this they do, so wonderfully, it makes me ashamed of my own faith!

Today we went to church. Despite the language barrier it was amazing. We danced and sang! All the children love to dance and hardly dance the same way outside the church walls (unless they are singing praise songs). After the message, they called for anyone to come to the front if they wanted to recieve more of His love and abundance, to sit at His banqueting table. About 100 came foward-children, staff, community members...there were the youngest of children to the oldest grannies who only spoke the local tribal language. They came and knelt, laid down, cried, and worshiped Him. I prayed and wept with them. The site that broke me the most was 2 young boys, around 9 years old, sitting on the floor at the front with their heads bowed, tears streaming down their faces, praying with each other outloud in portuguese...knees bent, toe to toe, they were holding tightly to each other's hands, just praying so feverently for about 30 minutes. Whenever you ask them what they want to pray for they always say for more of the Lord, to know Him more, for more joy in the Lord, for more of the Holy Spirit. Occasionally you will hear pleads for a job because they so desire to work, or for healing, or strength during their sickness; but you never get requests for objects or money or food. Such faith!

I went to the hospital today and prayed over some of the children in the pediatrics ward. Most were precious little ones, covered in burns. Because there is little utilities, water is boiled for everything, for drinking, for cooking, for laundry, ect. The water is warmed either on the gas stove or over a fire, but usually it is easily accessible for these little ones to pull it ontop of them, fall in, or reach into the scalding water. Most that we saw were under 7 years old. The care given in the hospital made me cringe!

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