People say that home is where the heart is. To me that has always seemed to imply where your family is. The places that I have called home have included running water, indoor plumbing, electricity, heating, air conditioning, a large stove/oven, a large refrigerator, counter space, two common rooms, and a bedroom to myself. On our homestead in Timbutini, all twelve girls sleep in a hut or “roundable” with two lights and three outlets, although the electricity can be dicey. The three boys share a room next to the kitchen, which houses a new stove/oven which was needed after two other girls and I witnessed our first gas stove/oven catch on fire while we were making dinner on our second night here (no one was hurt). We have no air conditioning, little air flow in buildings, our common room is making a circle of chairs outside, we go to the bathroom over a 30 foot long drop, and take bucket “showers.” All this, and yet I feel at home here. I’ve discovered that my heart is with God, so wherever God is becomes home, and I’ve met God all over again here. I feel him in the gentle breeze and the light rain, I hear him in children’s laughter and siSwati worship songs, I see him in the beauty of the stars, the land, and His people, and I know that I am truly home.
“Because you are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you.” – Isaiah 43:4a
Isaiah 42:1-4
His Forgiven Child,
Colile Lukuele
(Leah Rose)
