My four-year-old Noah has had a very hard time living in Africa: his toys
were put in storage back in America, his dog Joey was left with
friends, his grandpa doesn’t come and tickle him, and he has had the
hardest time getting his brain around why we can’t drive over and take
care of all of this!
To be honest, the funniest thing has been his struggle with the orphans.
From his first visit out at the care points it has been a love and hate
relationship.
The children here are mesmerized with his very blond hair
and white skin. They poke, pull and follow him wherever he goes; it
has been like a bad dream for little Noah, but we have hope!
His brothers and sisters are off of school this week for semester
break. They all camped out at one of our largest care points this week
called Thembeni.
They get to teach in the pre-school, clean the soars
on the kids, play soccer, build benches, whatever the go-go’s and kids
need.
As a huge surprise to Lisa and me, Noah insisted on going with
his brothers and sisters to what he calls the “Bush.” (He heard one of
us call the rural area where most of are work is the “Bush” once and it
has stuck).
The
second night I called him on the cell phone and asked how he was doing.
He said, “Dad, I love the Bush! I am playing with the orphans, and I
don’t want to come home tonight. Bye.” And he hung up the phone!
Well, everybody, your prayers are working… Noah loves the “Bush.” (I never said it didn’t wear him out!)
