Strength will rise

Earlier in the week I was contemplating blogging about a lovely walk I did up in the mountains, or the fun we've had at Mapheo, or showing off the new sewing techniques I've learnt at Silver Hope.

But before I got around to it, something much sadder happened, and I need to write it out to help me to process it. So here goes....

This afternoon I was walking to church when I noticed that at the home of one of the families I visit a funeral tent was up - a clear indication that someone had died this week. So I got a Basotho friend to come with me to the home later to find out what had happened.

The family situation is very confusing (I wrote out a family tree a few months ago to get my head around it), but basically in this house lives a granny, a grandson who comes to Mapheo and a son who is Mpho's dad (another little boy I visit). 4 of the kids I visit are cousins via this granny. Other people come and go from the house, and there's always lots of children around who the granny is looking after.

Mpho is the little boy in the middle of my main blog photo. He's the one who gets shunted around a lot and was left behind by the rest of his family (on the mothers side) a couple of weeks ago. This week I also found out that his mum is thinking of sending him far away for school rather than sending him to a local school. A decision which I'm trying to discourage her from taking.

Mpho's dad, the granny's son died this week in hospital in Bethlehem. Sadly I didn't even know he'd gone to hospital so it was quite a shock this evening. I sat in a bare, squalid room on the floor with granny keeping vigil over his coffin which was shrouded in lace curtains and surrounded by candles, while the family and friends got steadily drunker outside in the tent. She has now buried all her children but one, is living in the latter stages of HIV and caring for a number of children on a tiny income. What can you do in a situation like this? It is just too sad for words. No old lady wants to be burying her children. No little boy like Mpho should have gone through so much by the tender age of 6. And just to make it even more surreal some of the family were delighted (literally) to have a white girl come and pay her respects. I did all I could do, I prayed with her. I asked Jesus to be her comfort and strength. Then I left and wept over the injustice of her life, the pain that her family has seen.


Strength will rise as you wait upon the Lord, as you wait upon the Lord, as you wait upon the Lord.
Strength will rise as you wait upon the Lord, as you wait upon the Lord, as you wait upon the Lord.
Our God, Your reign forever, our Hope, our Strong Deliverer.
You are the Everlasting God, the Everlasting God.
You do not faint, You don't grow weary.
You're the defender of the weak, You comfort those in need, You lift us up on wings like eagles.


Praying for strength, comfort and hope.