Immune

7 weeks. The time we would have leftover once leaving Zanzibar, of which 2 weeks were likely to be dedicated to travel. Not much time. Mozambique. Here we connected with Iris Ministries forming a bond with the other visitors, together engaging in a variety of ministries. Through outreach we visited a village. Labour saw us load and deliver bricks. Widow and hospital ministry had us meet up and pray with the beat and broken. And children's ministry. Many an orphan, infant and older, warmly embraced us and we did our best to return this welcoming. Singing songs and playing games, Iris and it's children sure kept us sharp, if not for the ministry opportunities, than surely the visitors with whom we shared life and many stories. Glory to God. Farther along, travels were pretty intense as we over landed through Malawi, again touching Mozambique only to finally reach Zimbabwe. Serious passport activity. The intensity and chaos was something to behold, a siren to surrender. No bus too full. No travel too far. No wait too long. And not one prayer unneeded! In rewarding fashion we were comforted with possibly the best chocolate milk on the planet as introduced by Ghian - The Dendairy chocolate milk. Wow. Moreover, this African dream or expectation if you prefer, seems to become more of a reality with each passing travel day, and a peculiar immunity towards discomfort settles in. Zim brought us into another rural village, which was the most lacking in basic commodities of the lot. We spent most of our energy walking to a spring, which had we discovered on our own, we would never have considered touching it, so murky was the water, never mind collecting it for food and so forth. All the more, this formed part of our daily activity, walking a kilometre down and then back up with our empty and then full buckets. And so we would continue this activity with goal of helping the builder build a toilet for a tiny orphanage somewhere in dry Zimbabwe. The sunsets and sunrises, and the disconnectness from the outside world together with the connectedness of each other's immediate and perfect company, nearing 8 months at the time, made it more than worthwhile. ZimZam. Before crossing another border, the Victoria falls would inevitably greet us. Hence, we decided to stay a while to take it all in. Adventure of a lifetime. Whether it be gazing at the marvelous wonder, or taking on the rapids the mighty Zambezi offered, the experience was something of heaven, it was epic. And if by now we weren't already taken aback by this wonder, the rarity, or not, of seeing elephants freely roam the streets... If not Eden, what is this place? Africa. This is Africa. Zambia. A standout nation. From orphanage to orphanage we crossed the border to be greeted by Kwathu, a developing children's home. What a privilege, seeing this place giving hope, simply sharing love in a way you can't contain the way it moves you. It's that contagious. Having conversations with 2 year olds as though they were close friends, that's crazy. That's Kwathu. Further beating our bodies in the heat as we made building preparations for them to further extend their already open invitation to the world outside. We also had great fun playing games with the kids, sleeping under a canopy of stars, and who can forget meeting Lenny from the World Race! Days like these. People like us. Irreplaceable. With the journey drawing to a close, our final ministry would be in a village, true African style. Our host, Fabian, is on a mission to plant a church, physically. We set to help by making bricks. It was a muddy affair, instigating a brotherly-sisterly kind of love with nothing but the best coming out of each member of our own little church. After our muddy production, we would goof off in the Zambezi, attentively watching for any lurking crocs. The stars were a sight to see, so too the songs around the fire and of course, our final day's dam building. Better yet, the muddied faces we left behind after finishing this masterpiece. Priceless. Currently, we are resting it out on Lake Malawi. Looking back now, with less than a week before touchdown in SA, there is a linger of thoughts. Did our lives matter? Did they matter in that they point in the direction of Jesus? If I think of all the deeds we have done, I can only think of them as filthy rags as quoted in Isaiah. And yet without deeds my faith means nothing. How then does one go on about making sense of it all? So you also, when you have done everything you were told to do, should say, 'We are unworthy servants, we have done only our duty.' [Luke 17:10]. So when we're done doing all that we're supposedly supposed to do, may our hearts ever surrender to God the Father, his heart and his will.