Skip to main content

Starting the week with worship | Connecting with the girls.

After drinking a cup of very sweet hot tea, and eating half a loaf of Mozambican bread, I headed to the dorm with the boys aged 8-18 to help assemble a donated trampoline. The boys were at school, and once it was put together we thought out all the possible ways these boys would think of to use the newly acquired plaything. After a lot of thinking we figured that chaining it to a neighbouring tree would be the best strategy for storing it when not in use.  And we hoped that the boys would not destroy it too soon as these are 25 active boys at an age where "careful" isn't part of their vocabulary.

Then it was time for staff worship. I walked over to the prayer hut area with an amazing British missionary who works with donations, feeding poor families, and has a ministry to widows. We had a great chat and her being from Devon, I got to share my appreciation of clotted cream.

At the prayer hut, staff worship was starting; a time when Mozambican staff and missionaries come together to praise God. It was pretty similar to a church service, except there was a lot more singing and dancing, and less preaching. The Mozambicans were all at the front, and there were two keyboards sounding like synthesizers, and there was so much joy! As soon as music flowed they started dancing. What a joy to watch. It was amazing to see these people dance and dance and dance; sometimes with jumps and sometimes with different hand movements and twirls. After an hour of that they would not need to exercise any more that week, that's for sure! I stood with them, but didn't feel confident to join in fully as the steps were complicated and I was afraid I would trip up.

But the most beautiful person there was a teenager from the special needs housee. It brought tears of joy to my eyes seeing him up there worshipping. He would follow along or make up his own moves, and even with limitied muscle function, you could tell that his heart was fully functioning with a love for Jesus. I think most of us could learn a few things from the simplicity and depth of his devotion.

After lunch it was time to instruct the before-mentioned boys in trampoline etiquette. I joined the missionary who is responsible for them to help her translate, as she wanted to make sure the boys understood, and she is still learning Portuguese. After gathering the boys in their small classroom (painted yellow, and in fact most of the children's dorms are painted in vivid colours), she started talking, and I translated. It was fun to see the reaction fo some of the boys when I opened my mouth to speak, and they realized that I wasn't just an English speaking visitor, but that I actually speak a language they can understand. After clearly explaining the rules of playing on the trampoline and emphasising some other things, the boys were off to their activities. Some to play and others to extra study groups or other things.

I had wondered how I could connect a bit with the girls, and later that afternoon there was an opportunity to do just that. A father and son visiting wanted to do something special for the older girls, and I tagged along. We sat around a table in the garden eating pastries and making loom bracelets. It was fun to chit chat with them and break down a little bit of the barrier that is always there when you first meet someone. I learned some of their names and am so touched by the beauty in them and the potetial each of them has.

The rest of the day was pretty much interacting with children and visitors. The team I am here with arrived which was lovely, and we had a home group for visitors where one of the missionaries here shared her story. It was very encouraging and upbuilding.

It was a full day with many impressions, and yet makes me so thankful that I get to spend this time right here in this beautiful place surrounded by amazing people.

Popular posts from this blog

Taking in the familiar and a heart connected.

Amsterdam. It still has that muggy feeling in Summer, and a constant flow of people which if you stop to think about it, it's quite amazing that there would even be space to accommodate them all. But then I guess they are not all staying. Just passing through on their way to or from somewhere. It's always good for the heart to visit somewhere that was once home. The familiarity of streets and customs makes it easier to embrace what might be new as well as the joy of being reacquainted with old friends. Friends. So many of them to be found in this city, ready with hugs and good words that are uttered when seeing someone who was away again. Friendship. A treasure that cannot be bought. Cobblestones trodden by many, including myself. Sitting on a bench. Praying. Remembering the first time I stumbled upon this area lined with windows with red lights and curtains. An area which has come to represent no longer windows, but people to me. Some still behind a window. Others who have ...

Getting to know the local culture.

Life is a strange thing. Last week went…not much happened, and then it was over. The weekend was quite calm without too many wild and exciting things happening. Except, of course, a wee outing to watch the National Championship for Veteran Ploughing. Now, like me, you might be sadly lacking an understanding of what this actually means. So I am delighted to be able to enlighten you in this respect. It’s basically (for the “farm-language-illiterate” like myself) a competition where you use old (hence the name “veteran”) tractors and ploughs, and plough up a stretch of field which is then evaluated and the one scoring the highest sum (accuracy, depth, how well the soil is turned is all given points) wins. I must admit that this information I got by eavesdropping on a conversation next to me where a man was explaining to some of my friends how it all works. So that was a fun adventure….although we only stayed for a bit. What is sort of occupying my mind at present is my upcoming travel abr...

What was your dream?- scraping the surface of the heart of Albania

“What was your dream when you were 20?” That was a question our guide asked us as we were standing outside a huge derelict cement monument in Tirana, the capital of Albania. We’d spent the day touring and hearing a lot about the history and journey of Albania, a young country with more Albanians living in other countries than in Albania itself. A country where tourism has only really been built up the past 30 years. It was eye opening to hear more of the history, and it made me realise that this country is so much more than meets the eye. A country where the beaches and tourist area of Durres Riviera was packed with tourists, mostly from the Balcan area. A country where hospitality is ingrained in the culture, and where the friendliness of the people was noticeable. After a pause to let us reflect over the question of dreams, for some thinking further back than others, our guide told us that for him it had been to own a pair of jeans. That simple fact said so much. Both of what he...