that is what happens when it rains in the
village. the dirt roads become pure mud. you can slip, get stuck, and add
layers to your feet or the shoes you are wearing. it’s impossible to keep your
feet clean when you’re in the village. you can bathe and scrub, but there the
mud leaves a red stain on your feet showing a sign that you have been in the village.
showing you have walked the roads, the streets, and been with the people. it’s
something that i love as a reminder of where i have been...and even where i will
frequently walk!
as i walk the roads, see the faces of the children, greet
the adults…i find myself embracing each aspect of the village more and more. it’s something that i can’t quite find words to describe but i feel it more and
more rising inside of me each time i'm in mawanga. the love i have for that
place, for the people, for the HOPE that is present, continues to spill out of
my heart. more tears are being shed. more emotions are being tapped into. more
heartbreaking stories being told. it’s the place where i’m at. in the mud. with
the people. bearing the heaviness. the hardship. the unrelenting struggle every
day. but i’m humbled to be in that very place. standing in the gap. HOPING alongside
the people of mawanga and the surrounding villages….
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