Looking upward

As I was rifling through the pictures we took at last week’s Halloween party, I found these two pictures of Trust’s children, Candace and Tobin, to be symbolic on a few levels.

After so many years of being less-educated, less-privileged and simply overlooked, the black children of South Africa now have the chance to look upward at new opportunities, dreams and responsibilities. It has saddened me to witness the way that power shifting in South Africa has not necessarily led to more peace, more understanding and more equitable treatment for all people. (“we have learned by sad experience that it is the nature and disposition of almost all men…”) But the dream is not dead; it is very much alive. I hope these kids continue to have much to look forward to. I hope that those that now enjoy power don’t forget the principles that put them there so the children of South Africa might continue to live with hope.

It also struck me that this is the look Trust sees each day as he greets these beautiful children. They look up to him with amazement and reverence. So do I. I marvel at his integrity, goodness and testimony in a country where so few in his circumstance have even a fraction of the same. Selfishness and greed are rampant. Life is worth less than a few cents to most – murder is commonplace; chastity is valueless – rape is prevalent. Yet a strong and good heart is able to shine through the darkness and be a light to so many, perhaps the least of whom am I.

Finally, I see in Candace’s eyes a ray of hope. Not just hope in the future that I mentioned above, but hope for me and that I will remember and find ways to lift those that look upward, that I might forget myself and reach down to lighten a load, comfort sadness or lift a discouraged or lost soul. Those that look heavenward might often find themselves looking upward into our faces if we don’t forget to look down with a smile and a steady hand. I had this same feeling and envisioned the same caption when I saw the final photo in Sebastaio Salgado’s exhibit – a child looking plaintively at the camera. I didn’t see pleading eyes; I saw a noble, emotionless call to remember. Remember.

If I recall correctly, when Brynley was asked the other day what her favorite experience so far in Africa had been, she said going to the orphanage. More than lions and rhinos and beaches and beautiful scenery, I hope this is what we all remember when Africa is a fading memory – that we came to serve, that there will always be someone to serve, that when we serve we serve our God, and in that service we find our greatest joy and fondest memories.