Once again, I’m slacking on the updates, but I need to get these things out now since the sequel of weeks to come will be filled to the brim.
On monday I got to really connect with an 18 year old girl named Nonjabulo. Talking with her, she instantly became very open and real about a lot of things she has dealt with in her life, and the struggles she faces daily. A quick glimpse: she has no siblings. In 2008, her mother passed away, and in 2009, her father died as well. Orphaned at 15, she also gave birth to her son Sno. He is now 3 years old. The father is not in the picture. She has no job, no income, no money. She is a student in grade 12. The primary source of food she gets in her week are the parcel packages that Ethembeni hands out to each kid at the center. Every night, she puts what little furniture she has against the front door, because that way when someone attempts to break in, she gave hear that fumble around as a warning. She lives in worry that something will happen to her or Sno, because her home has been broken into so many times. Crime is big in Mpophomeni.
In all of this, I couldn’t help but look her in the eyes and see a flicker of strength within. I asked her how she feels about living alone. I asked her about people she has in her life who care about her. Immediately, she said “Life is not easy. But if it were not for the Family Center, I would have given up.” Her strength, and her ability to find joy in the Lord, not in circumstance, was so gut-wrenchingly powerful to me, and I told her how much I see that strength in her. She wants to become a social worker after high school.
After this interaction, I got back to AE and just wept. I didn’t know what to think. I was teetering precariously on the line of holding too much of her burdens on my shoulders. But God showed me so much truth. I cannot bring the dead to life. I cannot provide food for her constantly. I cannot guarantee her that she will be able to find a way into social work. I cannot give her a job. I cannot remove fear from her life. I cannot do these things. But I can love. I can love until it seems like no love can come anymore, and yet it will continue because ultimately that love is supplied by an endless Supplier.
I came across a quote that says “There is no cure for a person in pain. Such a person needs love. Love instinctively knows what is needed”. This punched me in the gut. I realized that when someone has a need, loving them, in whatever form may be, automatically fills their greatest need. My act of loving her was through listening- her needs to feel cared for, not alone, and heard were met by this. It was as if God’s love just stepped into my place, and I just faded to grey.
Her name, Nonjabulo, means happiness. And her smile is one of the most radiant things I have ever seen in my life.
To see the way she interacts with the kids at the center, so caring, so watchful, is stunning. To see the way she interacts with the other young mothers and high schoolers gives me so much hope- she has a family. The “aunties” at Ethembeni care for her so much. As much as I could tell her and show her over and over again that I love her, I know without a doubt that God’s love for her is going to extend beyond this month. She is surrounded by people who can express the divine love of God to her constantly. She will never be alone. My heart is filled with hope knowing that God’s love is going to extend to her. Though trials may come, Happiness will be met and held by God.
