home.

I used to think home meant the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Then when I went to school and spent less time in Maryland, Nebraska became my home. And I was comfortable with that. But just as God likes to do when you get comfortable, he shook me all up. And home became Zambia.

People say home is where the heart is. It used to live in MD then NE but now I’ve left a good chunk of my heart in Zambia, but more specifically I’ve left it in the hands of two little humans named Daniel and Po po.

Daniel and Po po are brothers that live not even ten feet from the gate of the church that my team and I stayed at for the duration of our visit in Zambia. Everyday, from the very first day we arrived to the last moments we were in Zambia kids were at that gate. And that’s where I met the two little loves of my life.

Po po is seven and has the biggest eyes and cutest raspy voice you could ever find. While all the other kids that we would play with outside the gate were energetic and wanted to climb the Mazungu’s (tonga word for white people that I’m spelling awfully) like a jungle gym, Po po was always at my side clinging to my hand or on my back or in my arms. We didn’t share amazing conversations (cause 1. He’s seven and 2. He barely spoke English) but it was clear there was nothing but love there. When Po po would say my name and run and jump into my arms, it’s the most important I’ve ever felt.

Daniel is Po po’s older brother. Because his little brother was attached to my hip there was no way Daniel was going to get away without me loving him. He’s also quiet and reserved but also the sweetest and most gentle brother and friend. But it wasn’t until one day during football that I think he finally decided to love me back, cause apparently being 13 and being too cool to show too much emotion isn’t just an American thing.

He was playing keeper and the ball jammed his finger. It was bloody and he could barely move it, and obviously I went full mom on him and ran back to our compound to clean it out. With the help of a couple of my teammates he was all bandaged up. But not even ten minutes later I heard wailing coming from his house and again went mom and ran through the houses to get to him, which if you were wondering was very against the buddy system rule. Whoops sorry mom.

As weird as it is that finger is what brought us together because my last few days in Zambia were spent with my arms wrapped around those two.

I didn’t get to tell them how much Jesus loved them, or that he died for them, or any of those things that missionaries are supposed to do, apart from an adorable video of Po po repeating back to me ‘Jesus loves me’.

And that sucks.

I barely got to tell them how much I love them and would miss them and have them understand it.

That sucks.

There’s a very good chance I won’t ever see them again.

That really sucks.

And I replay the scene of them coming to the gate and realizing that they wouldn’t see us again in my head.

And it breaks my heart.

“How then can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent?”

It sucked that I felt like I didn’t do anything for them. But God doesn’t need me to save them. He wanted me to love them and for them to love me. He didn’t need me at all, but he chose me to love those two little boys and show them his love for the short two weeks we were there.

I helped plant a seed, others will water it, and others will be able to see the fruit.

But God makes it grow. I want to do all of it, but that’s not why God put me there. I was meant to plant so that one day they can call on the one they believe in because they have heard his name because his love was preached to them because someone was sent to love them.

I probably didn’t make a profound impact on their lives and that’s ok. Because I know that I am only a cog in the machine. That God will put someone or something in their way in his time, to reveal his immense love for them. And maybe when they understand that love, they will understand why some crazy blonde lady played duck duck goose with them when they were little. And that’s worth it.

p.s. sorry mom for the use of the word suck.