She Said Yes

"Mama Kate, where's make(mom)?" Lucia tugged on my skirt one day.
"She's at her place," I answered.
"At her place..." she echoed, just as she repeats everything I say.  She looked at me with sad eyes.
"Should we go see her today?" I asked.
"Yes!" she jumped up and down.

Isn't it amazing how forgiving, pure, and loving the little ones are.  No wonder Jesus said the kingdom of heaven belongs to children (Matt 19:14).  The past few weeks were hard on Lucia in particular as she stayed at the girls home with us while Tenele stayed at the pastor's house on her own.  Tenele ached for her children, too, but she knew she had to embrace the consequences.  Time was running out, though, for Tenele to figure out what she was going to do with her future.  She claimed she would move back to Mangwaneni or would find her own place.  She wanted to find a job.  Then she wanted to ship her kids off to Cedric's family.  Her thoughts were inconstant and based on emotion.  There was one option, though, that was the clear winner: Challenge Ministries.

I learned about Challenge Ministries through my dear missionary friend Elysa Mac.  Elysa and her husband Jim and their kids go to a church in Mbabane called Potter's Wheel, which is a church that supports Challenge Ministries.  Jim and Elysa had purchased tickets to a dinner fundraiser, which explained all they had to offer and how young people's lives had been transformed.  Teenagers and young adults could become a part of this program to get rehab for different things and intense counseling and faith building.  One of the members of the church, Waheeda, welcomed me so kindly one day and exchanged numbers with me, letting me know I could contact her for anything.  Well, when things with Tenele had gone sour, Waheeda popped into my mind one morning.  I decided to contact her and see if she had any resources for Tenele.  She contacted Challenge Ministries, explained my situation, and gave me the director's number.  By God's grace, the director said even though they currently didn't have room, they'd give Tenele an interview and see if they could help.

I brought Tenele nearly two weeks ago to this interview.  The director was incredible.  The program was perfect.  It was a year long rehabilitation program that would offer her counseling, strict supervision, discipline, classes and learning, Bible studies, and healing from her past.  The director, who had talked to both Tenele and I separately, was so impressed with Tenele's vulnerability and honesty.  One of the interview questions was about her kids.  "Have your children ever been abused before?" the director asked her.  Tenele should her head yes and held back her tears.  "By me," she said shamefully.  Furthermore, when the director asked Tenele what she needed help with most or what she wanted as a result of this program she said, "To manage my anger," and "to become close to my God."  Beautiful.  But the director was very clear with me that this was a strict program and for the first six weeks, Tenele would be removed from all life and communication outside the walls of the ministry center.  For six weeks, she would not be able to see or even talk to me or her kids.  She wouldn't be able to even say hello or hear Lucia's voice on the phone.  Then, after the six weeks, the programming would begin and Tenele would slowly earn rights to communicate and then visit us or we could visit her.  When we left the interview I was on cloud nine because this was exactly what Tenele has needed her whole life--a safe place with loving people to admonish, build, and correct her.  She couldn't take any more bandaids; it was time to open the wound to heal it.  Though I was thrilled, I knew Tenele wasn't.  Tenele was too used to her "freedom," and it would be the biggest sacrifice she's ever had to make to say yes to Challenge.

The director told us to take a couple days to talk it over and think about it, but that they would take Tenele as soon as she said yes.  Unfortunately, Tenele couldn't.  She said no.  She couldn't get beyond the thought of being isolated from all of us for six weeks and she was scared at how strict the program was.  I was crushed but I wasn't surprised.  I saw it coming, but I let it be her choice.  But that meant she had to find other options.

Time was burning up too quickly.  By the end of the month, true to my word, Tenele would have to leave the pastor's house because I refused to pay for her anymore.  I regretfully had to call the director of Challenge and tell her the bad news, but she told me if Tenele changed her mind to give her a call.  So I gave Tenele the director's number and repeated what she told me.

Though Tenele gave me more than several reasons not to hope, I still somehow felt the glimmer light inside.  Sure enough, ten days later, Tenele gave me the best news I'd heard all year.  "Mama, I'm going to Challenge."  Again, by the grace of God, the director said they'd make room for her, and welcome her in to the program.  What made her change her mind?  It could be a million things, but something special happened in her last Saturday when we as a Hosea's Heart family did a prayer walk in town.  During this prayer walk, Tenele came across several people in town that she began minstering to and praying for.  One of our other girls, Sibussa, said that day was the day she fell in love with God.  I believe it was the same for Tenele, too.  Because something was different after that.  The crazy thing about all of this... is that Tenele had the option to do Teen Challenge several years ago when Christina brought her to this interview.  Though Tenele said no back then, it was a seed that God has been watering until today, when it finally took root!

Yesterday was Tenele's last full day until she moved to Challenge.  So, she spent the whole day at the girls home.  As night drew in, I could tell she was getting stressed.  Her eyes, her eyes never lie. And they seemed to be growing dark with the night.  I stood with her outside on the porch and said, "Tenele, tell whatever those evil thoughts are in your mind to go away.  You are doing the right thing, and I'm proud of you."  She half laughed at me, surprised I could tell what was going on in her head.

She nodded and proceeded to say to her thoughts, "Yeah, leave me alone; go away!"  She admitted she didn't know how to manage her thoughts and often times got confused as to why she behaved the way she did.  "I don't know why I do what I do," she said in frustration.  "I really do love the Lord."

I answered her, "Maybe that's exactly what you'll learn this next year at Challenge.  And it's evident, Tenele, you love the Lord, because you said yes!"  At bible study that night, the Spirit was so thick among us and while I played guitar, the girls went around taking turns praying for one another.  It was beautiful to see how powerful and compassionate Tenele prayed for her fellow sisters.

So, the next morning(just a couple hours ago), I dropped Tenele off at Challenge Ministries.  Luciano cried and cried when she left, and Lucia was so confused and sad.  Tenele, too, burst into tears, but she embraced it. She told me, "I'm happy, Mama, because I will be closer to God."

It will be hard not hearing from Tenele until mid December, especially since she'll miss Lucia's 3rd bday.  But she said yes to the Lord, and that means more than anything.

Not Your Savior

After certain episodes from specific girls in the home, I realized that I had to make something very clear to everyone.  "I am not your savior.  We (including Rachel and Kiley) are not your saviors.  There is only One Savior, and trust me, it's not me."  We explained this to the girls during bible study one night, as they somehow got the impression that because we are preaching to them and missionaries that we don't sin, or that our sins aren't as bad as theirs.  I was shocked when even Ayanda said, "What sin?  You don't sin, do you?"  I wish I didn't. But I course I do.

The discussion was sparked by one of the girls in the home who wrote semi-suicidal letters to several people saying something to the effect of, "You're my only hope.  You are the only one who can save me now."  It might come as a surprise to you, but it didn't to me because this girl is a master of manipulation.  She knew just exactly what to say and how to say it, to make someone bend to her wishes and go out of their way to give her what she wanted.  She is also a master of lies, which makes sense in her act of manipulation.  It has taken us four months since I've been here to uncover the mess of lies she's gotten herself into.  But as we all know, lies catch up with you at some point, and when you least expect it.  This particular girl had been skipping school every week.  She'd leave the home, dressed in her uniform and with her books and backpack, pretending she was going to school, but in fact she was actually staying in town with her boyfriend.  Her school refused to let her write final exams for that and other reasons.  It was the school counselor that then filled us in on all the lies she had even told the school.  That day, when the girl found out we knew about all the lies and more, she pretended all was well but when our attention was occupied elsewhere, she snuck off, "running" away from the home with a large sum of stolen money in her pocket.

It hurt. First of all, that she ran away. Second of all, that she told lies about the home to her counselor.  Third of all, that after all I had given her, she still felt the need to take off with my money (which she had been stealing earlier, too.)  To make a long story and a very long week, short, she admitted to stealing and was taken to court.  She begged to be let back into the home, but she was already going to be on suspension before the stolen money. We had found oit that she had even lied about the reasons for why she was in the home to begin with. She had also been stealing from any place she had stayed, including her grandma, mother, and people's tithes from church. That and so much more was finally broight to light, but she hardly showed any convicyion or regret.

 I was so torn, though.  I was crushed.  I loved this girl.  It was so hard to tell her no, she couldn't come back.  I wanted her back.  With open arms, I wanted to welcome her back.  But I also knew how destructive that would be to the other girls in the home as well.  So I asked the Lord what to do.  I prayed and prayed for wisdom.  So many people were telling me just to forget about it and let her back.  Even a man from social welfare said, "I know you have such a big heart, so you can let her back in."  But none of them understood.  It's not about having a big heart.  It's not about the stolen money or the lies.  It's about how to correct her.  It's about what's best for the house AND for her future.  It's about showing her that we are not the saviors. I prayed for wisdom and the next morning, my reading in Sirach said, "...discipline at ALL times is WISDOM." It was perfect.  I had forgiven her, I even wrote her a letter to tell her so.  But she still needed correction.  After the experience it was very clear to me that people from the society expected us as the foreigners to be the saviors, and I realized how damaging that can be.

Unfortunately, the girl's father, who hasn't been a part of her life for the past 16 years, decided to pay the court fine and take her with him instead of to the remand/correction center (where she'd get supervised schooling and counseling) like we had all originally agreed.  It didn't take more than a few days for the dad to realized his cell phone had gone missing and maybe more.

Although, she is out of the walls of our house, she is still very much so a part of us and my heart.  It's hard not having her in the home, but it needed to be done.  For her own growth and healing.  For her own time to find the true Savior.      

No Such Thing as Typical

It’s Tuesday.  If this were a normal day, I wouldn’t know how to describe it, because here there is no such thing as a typical day.  But I wanted to give you a glance into what a single day of life might look like.  So here’s a peak into a not so typical Tuesday.

                I briefly woke up when my roommate, Titi, left for work, but I must’ve been sleeping like a rock because I didn’t hear my phone alarm go off.  Instead, I dreamt on; I dreamt that “Benny,” my little 17 month old was a young boy and had long curly locks of midnight brown hair, and everyone stopped and stared at how charmingly handsome this boy was.  But then he all of a sudden started crying and as he cried, he shrunk back in years to being a baby again.  He kept crying and crying and wouldn’t stop, so when I opened my eyes, it took me a solid minute to realize he was crying in real life.  So I hopped off my top bunk and wandered out to the living room to console my little one. 

                After my quiet time reading and praying, I made some eggs and onions for breakfast and browned some bread in the pan for peanut butter toast (Jiff peanut butter from my dear friend Kelly).  Benny was hanging on my leg nearly the whole time and when he saw me finally eating, he’d point to his chest and say, “Me?” because he wanted me to share.  I taught him “please,” and he adorably pronounces it, “Peas.”  This boy is going to grow up being an excellent English speaker!  Especially since Lucia likes to speak to him in English as well!

                I gathered some puzzles and sat down with the two crazies, teaching Lucia some counting and some colors.  Luckily, Benny was able to entertain himself quite thoroughly with the puzzle pieces, though, I had to reprimand him a few times for throwing the pieces at Lucia. 

                Sibussa and Melissa both stayed home from school, since they weren’t learning today (because their school is terrible and the teachers don’t show up).  So, I taught them how to type on the computer keyboard and showed them what a word document was and how to use some features.  It was so difficult trying to teach keyboarding because I never had to teach it, I only know how to use it!  But they really loved learning and want to keep practicing.  Ayanda returned before noon from school because she had finished her exam for the day.  So, we took Lucia and Benny to town with us to spend the rest of the day with their mama, which Lucia had been asking about for a couple days.  During those free hours, I stole some internet time and paid a quick visit to Mangwaneni where I was eagerly rushed by twenty little ones, who brightened my entire week.  How often do you get that many hugs and once?  It reminded me how much I loved that place and it made me sad that I don’t make enough time to go there anymore.  So, I decided I need to make a weekly visit to love on those little ones I’ve neglected for too long!

                After returning to the girls home, Rachel and Kiley were already here, which was fabulous because that gave me an extra hour or so in town.  They tutored some of the girls one on one, and I studied with Shashie.  Ayanda joined us in the room later, and the study session turned into a giggle fest after Shashie “poofed” (their word for fart)quite loudly and looked up at me with big scared eyes, hoping I didn’t notice.  When we caught eyes, I lost it and we both couldn’t stop laughing.  Ayanda asked why we “poofed” in public in America or talked so freely about it, because “here, I can’t do that,” she claimed.  That just brought more questions and more laughter.

                Then it was time to talk to the police who showed up at our house (a longer story for another day, and no that’s definitely not typical).  We had gone to the police the previous night to report one of our girls who had gone missing, and along with her went a lot of missing money, too.  Just tonight we learned her whereabouts and she is safe, which is what matters most.  But she certainly has caused a lot of stress the past few days and has gotten herself into a web of lies and messes that will take a very long time to get cleared up.

                Johannes paid us a surprise visit over dinner, which Sibussa had cooked a nice flavored rice meal.  Around 8 I dropped Kiley and Rachel off in town and drove back to the girls home to find most of the girls already in bed.  I made my rounds to the different rooms and hug and kiss the girls goodnight and then stayed up later with Ayanda, Shashie, and Sibussa, as they gave me some SiSwati lessons.  The language lessons turned into laughter because I misprounced some words, which apparently ended up being quite inappropriate.  But it was a lesson well-learned because now I know when the girls are using naughty words. I ended the night by journaling in the living room for a few minutes and then headed to my already dark bedroom where Titi was fast asleep. 

                I would tell you that I went to sleep and woke up to repeat the previous days activities, but no other day has been exactly like this Tuesday.  Wednesday was quite different, and it just reminded me that in my new life here, there is no such thing as typical.     

                    

                   

Nothing Lost

With the burden of Tenele and taking on the mothering role of her two kids, I had felt my energy depleting.  Negativity had taken over me; certain things about Swazi that I once appreciated started irritating me more and more, and I was even getting aggressive in my slight hint of road rage (I like to think I inherited it from my father).  I felt plagued with constant yearnings for home and complained to myself (and Rachel and Kiley) about all the things I was missing out from home, all the people and relationships I had lost.  But the worst part of it all, was I didn’t know how to fix it.  I just got angry and infuriated with myself because I didn’t understand why I couldn’t shake it.  I had never felt so inadequate to be here and my shortcomings snowballed.  

To help me get some weekly away time, Rachel and Kiley and I decided once a week, I would switch places with one of them for a night.  So Kiley and I switched places last Thursday, and in that quiet time away all it took was two phrases from a song to shatter the hardened shell of my heart.  “If You are all you claim to be, then I will not have lost anything.”  I’ve heard the song “You Can Have Me” at least a dozen times, but for some reason I felt as if I had never heard those words before.  

“I will not have lost a single thing!” I nearly exclaimed aloud.  “Ha!” I said to my jaded spirit.  “What am I complaining about?  Why am I aching for home when God is telling me He is enough!”  

It sounds so silly now that I’m writing about it, but it was my lightbulb moment.  The lessons from the lyrics continued into the chorus: “When did love become unmoving? When did love become unconsuming?”  It was as if God were telling me, “Kate, when did I ever say that love should not move you?  When did I ever say that love should not consume you?  If you truly love me, you will move where I send you and build your life around where I place you.  Stop looking back at what you lost, look at me to see what you have gained!”  Furthermore, I had accidentally flipped open my Bible to a page in Isaiah.  A verse in the upper right hand page was underlined and caught my eye: “Whom shall I send and who will go for us?  And I said, ‘Here I am, send me!’”  It was as if God was reminding me, “Why are you acting so surprised at the hardship and complaining about being here?  Afterall, it was you who said, ‘Here I am, Lord, send me!’”  Indeed, that had been my coined verse and prayer since my first trip in 2008. 

After that night, I felt so renewed.  Nothing could get me down, not even Tenele’s escape to her old life for one night.  For I know that the Lord has a plan for her, and I know she will get there, with or without me.  My joy enabled me to let her go, knowing that she is in a crossroads moment in life and must make this decision on her own, without me.  

Following this lightbulb moment, I've been filled this past week with so much joy.  I received several letters from old students back home and an incredible package from my second family, the Conways!  I felt so loved and cared for with messages and emails and connections along the way.  Moreover, one of the older girls surprised me one night.  She asked for me to give her some time so we could talk. Admittedly, I didn't want to talk because I figured it'd be more drama or baggage or something I had to worry about.  Instead all she said was, "I want to thank you.  Thank you for loving me.  My whole life, all I've wanted is someone to tell me I'm beautiful, someone to love me and fight for me.  I struggled to see how God  could exist as I was left alone in my pain.  But now I am starting to see Him.  Now I can start to believe because my situation has brought me to this home.  I now have someone who tells me I'm beautiful, hugs me goodnight, and truly loves me.  I just wanted to say thank you.  I can't promise I will not fail you, but I promise I will do my best so that you can be there when I graduate and when I start my own home someday."  

God truly has shown me, I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.  

When Love Fails

I’ve been told, “Love always wins.”  I’ve read over and over 1 Corinthians 13, “Love is patient, love is kind…love never fails.”  But what happens if it does?  Or when it does?  What happens when love really isn’t enough?

Living alongside these girls in their daily joys and struggles is truly an incredible experience.  Obviously, growth is a process, healing is a process, and it all cannot be achieved at once.  Yet, I still maintain high standards for my children, just ask my past students, especially the ones I’ve coached.  One of the girls in our home, who has been a particular struggle for me, came into my room one night to talk.  “I know I’m not perfect, Mama Kate,” she began. “But it’s like you expect us to be.”  It was the beginning to a very healthy conversation for the both of us, and since then, she has been nothing but a joy instead of a burden.  Understandably, when I hold high standards for myself and others it’s easier to be let down or feel like love isn’t enough to help them reach their potential.  So, with a massive let down over the past week, it has got me wondering, “Am I expecting too much?  Are my standards too high?  Is love enough?”

For six years, I’ve loved and pursued Tenele as my child.  Out of the six years, the past three months have been both the best and most difficult with her.  Perhaps I judged her growth too quickly and she really wasn’t set free or washed anew.  For, over the past two weeks, there has been a devastating retreat of growth and character.  Just as I was able to judge her state of mind based on how she was properly and wonderfully mothering her kids, I could tell something was wrong when she resulted to beating them again and talking about them in frustration.  “Cedric can just take them!” she said angrily one night.  “I’ve had enough.  I can’t do it anymore.  It’s his turn to take the kids.”  What I thought had been a healthy conversation where she shared her frustrations eventually festered into more anger and bitterness on her part.  She didn’t like coming to the girls home anymore, and I figured out later it was because it was extremely hard on her to come and see me giving all of my attention to the other girls, tutoring them in their school work while she had none.  She loved school but now that was no longer an option for her, and that began to eat at her.  She felt she had no future and blamed it on her children.  More and more voices filled her with doubt and fear.  You are nothing, you never were and never will be, they told her.  And she began to believe them.  After I intervened on numerous occasions of beating her children, I warned Tenele if she ever abused her kids again or I ever found marks on them again I would not support her any longer because I could not continue supporting someone who abuses their children.  She understood and promised she wouldn’t abuse them anymore. 

A few days later, I went to visit Tenele and the kids.  I had already disciplined Tenele for some other things that I had actually had a dream about before it happened (crazy how my dreams here give me a little hint of things to come sometimes).  I was getting so frustrated with her because she was taking massive steps backwards and there was nothing I could do about it.  When I checked on her that day, Lucia was playing and part of her shirt came up in the back.  I grabbed her in haste, lifted her shirt and quickly put it down, horrified by the marks I saw.  Tenele’s face immediately dropped in fear and shame.  I didn’t even say a word.  I was so furious I was shaking. I was so disgusted I started crying.  How can she do this to her girl?  It was the worst I had seen.  And it wasn’t only on her back.  I marched away immediately, awash with emotions I couldn’t handle.  “I’m done,” I said to myself over and over.  “I am so done with her.  Six years…six years!  And she’s still like this?  I can’t do it anymore.  I’m done.”  I walked the entire hour back to the girls home, uphill, and in 98 degree weather.  But I didn’t care.  The exercise helped me breathe and think as every part of my heart sank.  “Lord, what am I supposed to do?  Haven’t I given her enough?  Haven’t I taught her enough?  Haven’t I prayed for and encouraged her enough?  Haven’t I loved her enough?”  I squinted my eyes shut behind my sunglasses, trying to take away the sting of hot tears.   “Haven’t I forgiven her enough?”  Frustration flushed my already reddened face and a gentle voice in my head echoed the bible verse, “’How many times must I forgive him?’ ’70 times 7.’”  I definitely wasn’t there yet.  As I walked I talked and argued with God, and finally I listened.  It was clear that two things were demanded from me for Tenele: 1) discipline and 2) grace.  Yes, still grace. She desperately still needed grace.  As for discipline, I had already warned her of the consequences of continuing to abuse her children, and that was to remove my financial support for her future.  It was time to let go. 

Devastated at my news of discipline the next day, Tenele hung her head and held back her tears.  “You have proven to me again, that you cannot be trusted alone.”  I told her I was taking her children away from her for the time being until she could prove to me that she could be trusted.  I told her I had forgiven her but that there were still consequences.  I explained that consequences and true discipline is difficult but meant for growth even if you can’t see it in the moment.  I told her that she could no longer depend solely on me; it was time for testing, time for her to depend on the Lord and not man.  I told her she still had options, she still had many people who could help her through anything she needed, including Marcia, Musa, Rachel, and Kiley.  But I told her because of her choices, I had no choice but to let her go. 

Let go.  It was confirmed through Rachel as she encouraged me with Scripture in Acts.  It was confirmed in prayer and then confirmed in a song: You Can Have Me.  “If I saw You on the street, and you said, ‘Come and follow me,’ but I had to give up everything, would my love be enough to let go?”  Did I love Tenele enough to let her go, to let her go through a period of pain and suffering, and hopefully so that she can find her out in the end?  Moreover, did I love and trust God enough to let her go into His hands?  It was a time of testing for both of us.  Would Tenele choose hope in the darkness or go back to a life she once lived?  Would I, gripped by the fear that she might choose her old life, renounce my discipline and let her lean on me.  I had to let her choose. 

The following Saturday, Nonhlanhla went to visit Tenele as had been previously arranged.  Instead, she sat with the pastor for nearly three hours, waiting for Tenele to return as the pastor had told Nonhlanhla that Tenele had left earlier that morning.  Nonhlanhla returned home; Tenele didn’t return at all. 

The next morning, Sunday, I was woken up by a call from the pastor.  He said, “Tenele just came in this morning.  She’s weeping and needs to be tended to.” 

When I got to the house that morning, I walked down the hall towards her bedroom door, which is almost always shut, but I found it partway open.  She was lying on her mattress, which was on the floor, with her legs hanging off the side.  She was wearing shoes, her skirt, and a jacket with the hood up.  She looked up when I walked in and just groaned with sad eyes.  I looked around the very tidy, small room.  Two toddler chairs were stacked on each other and a suitcase lay by the door, packed full. 

“Where have you been?” I said unsympathetically, already knowing there was no other place she would’ve stayed the night other than Mangwaneni.  She slowly sat up and made space for me on the mattress.  “Where were you?” I asked again.

“I went to Khanyi’s mom’s place,” she said quietly.  “I asked if I could live with her.”

I cringed.  Khanyi’s mom’s place is where she stayed when she first became a prostitute.  Later, it was a place where she tried escaping to once Cedric held her captive, but he came after the mom and beat her up, leaving her no decision but to tell Tenele she couldn’t live there.  Now, several years later, Tenele thinks that’s her only option—to go back. 

“So, where are you going?” I asked, but she didn’t answer.  “Tenele,” I pointed to the suitcase, “Where are you going?”

“Khanyi’s mom said I could live with her,” she choked down the tears.

“No, where are you going?” I asked again, emphasizing the deeper meaning to my question.

Tenele couldn’t look at me as I gazed firmly at her.  She began crying as I questioned her.  “Do you really think that’s the right choice right now?  Do you really think that’s the only option you have?  Why would choose that?”

“B-because, y-you s-said you w-w-wouldn’t s-support…” she started shaking in sobs. 

“I wouldn’t support you anymore?” I finished for her.  She nodded yes and cried uncontrollably.  I hugged her towards me and let her cry on shoulder.  “Tenele, is that really the life you want to go back to? Do you really want to go back to selling your body again?”  She violently shook her head no.  “I’m not abandoning you,” I clarified.  “I’m not like your real mom. I will always be here, I will always love you.  That love can never go away because it is not my own, it’s the Lord’s.  But your choices have prevented me from helping you as I desired.  But I’m still here, look at us,” she nodded as she still cried.  “There’s no reason to make these desperate choices you are making now.  There is no one chasing you from this place or kicking you out of the pastor’s house.  You can’t give in to the lies and fears that fill your head.” 

Eventually, she stopped crying and sat upright.  We sat in silence for a few minutes before I checked my watch.  It was nearly time for mass.  “Do you want to walk with me to Cathedral?”  To my surprise, she said yes.  So we went to mass together, and it was beautiful.  It was the SiSwati service, so I didn’t understand much content, but during the responsorial psalm, Tenele eagerly grabbed my hand and whispered, “It’s Psalm23!”  That is our Psalm.  That is the Psalm that has captivated Tenele; that is the Psalm that defined her two years ago, the psalm that she read in Timbutini church one day and pointed to the verse about restoring her soul and said, “That’s me!”  What a beautiful reminder that even though I gave up on Tenele, God hadn’t.  God was reminding me that He was still working, that Tenele was not a lost cause and never will be.  God was answering me, “Love always wins.  My love is always enough. My love never fails.”