I tried hard to explain what was going on … who these boys were in the picture and why they had sent these balls all the way to Africa. That my son was in the middle and that his friends had chosen to send these baseballs, basketballs and soccer balls instead of birthday gifts.
But, no explaining was necessary. They were boys and this was the universal language of sports that needed no interpreting or translating. They just needed room to play.
I wondered if I would find other ideas that transcend cultures, countries and language barriers. Other universal languages that need no explanation.
But, Africa has taught me that there is a language that I don’t speak. It is not universal, because I don’t understand it. I need an interpreter to explain the hurt. To translate the stories of abandonment and fear. It is a language of resilience, determination and courage … of forgiveness that is foreign to me.
It is the language of hope.
I’ve learned that this language of hope is found in something much bigger. In a God that is good all the time … even when your parents abandon you. Even when your husband dies and leaves you … even when your family is killed right in front of your eyes.
I’m not sure my hope is that big – but I want it to be. I want to speak the language of hope in a way that needs no interpreting, no translating, no explaining … just room to grow.
Thank you for helping us finish Phase 1 of the rescue home project! We couldn’t be more excited!!! But we still need your help to finish Phase 2. It’s not too late to get invovlved … join the rescue today!