...It was an exchange that I will never forget. Her name was “Nadia”. Her smile was Heaven, her eyes spoke compassion and her Heart was an invitation to dream of what it might be like to meet God.
It was a cool night, the breeze tickling our faces as we jaunted into the car. Joe had decided, instantaneously, to steal us into the night and venture into the township. Siphro, both friend and employee of Joe's lived in this particular squatter camp near the Zimri's home.
As we neared the turn into the township, Joe and Claire encouraged us to cover our heads. They said we would be safer, but that we shouldn't be alarmed to anything-similar to the feeling one gets when a man with a gun tells you not to be scared. So, we covered our heads and just looked out the window. We looked and looked and looked some more. Ruin and devastation filled the streets. I found myself not wanting to blink, not wanting to miss anything. In the blink of an eye I could see someone's whole life, their whole world, or I could miss it. I am still pondering this; out of my position of privilege I am not even able to consider the possibility of what I saw or encountered during this hour.
We pulled up to a small shack, the home of Siphro, Gloria and their five children. I found myself wanting to breathe, trying to breathe, but air flow was just out of the question; the lump in my throat was hogging all of the air and immediately I felt my head panging. Does life exist within these walls? Getting out of the car was seemingly one of the most wretched memories I have of South Africa. The odor of poverty's murderous sting was rancid among the night's thickness in the air and even the moon seemed to lack the man from this side of the stars.
As we entered the home, immediately, the smiles on the faces of the small children lifted my heart and tears welled up within my stolen eyes. However, I held them back and just breathed deep. As soon as the seven year-old stood still long enough I embraced her, wrapping my arms around her I greeted her, and she did, likewise. It was an exchange that I will never forget. Her name was "Nadia". Her smile was Heaven, her eyes spoke compassion and her Heart was an invitation to dream of what it might be like to meet God.
I couldn't help but think about these children, about this family, daily, as I continued my journeys through Cape Town. Every intrinsic ounce of being within those children danced for joy! They not only gleamed with the love of God, their hands, their toes, their noses even shone with a light that I had not seen before. May I dwell in that light forever, and may I gain the ability to seek humility in my anger, courage in my ignorance and love in my disgust as the Holy One guides me to a light where even Fear is afraid to show its face.
