continued from “Mourn with those who Mourn“
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted” – Matthew 5:4
I had read the beatitudes so many times and I knew that those who mourn would be blessed but I had not idea I could be blessed by those who mourn.
I arrived at the school not knowing what to expect and I found the school practically empty and Make Zwane, the vice principal waiting for me. “I can’t even look at you she said, I’m in shock”. She was amazed that the rest of money that they needed had been supplied by her brothers and sisters in the States (thanks again for all those gave to this family). She quickly rushed me to the Head Teacher to explain that the money was there and you should have seen the relief on his face.
Nonphumelelo, the girl who died, was a double orphan (both parents had died) and she was living with her disabled grandmother and her younger sister. When the head teacher found out the girl had died he immediately took money out of his own pocket and began to ask people in the community to help financially. By the time I had gotten there he had reached the end of his resources. I’ve been to so many high schools in this country and I’ve never met a head teacher with such integrity and really lives out the Word of God in all he does…anyway I could go on and on about the faculty at this school, but it confirms over and over again that God was already working at this school and I am just joining His work.
So I went and visited the girl’s home only to find all of her classmates there. They had arrived early that morning and gone and cut down branches and brought them back to make a structure and then put a tarp over it. Then they went and cut down grass with knives and put in on the ground to keep the place less dusty. Have you ever tried to cut a lot of grass with a knife? It’s hard work and these kids were awesome!
I was told to go and say hello to the grandmother. I walked into the small, dark room and as my eyes adjusted I began to see dark silhouettes of old women sitting on mattresses around the edges of the room in traditional Swazil style (with their feet straight out in front of them).
I stumbled through my SiSwati explaining who I was and they were so thankful to have me there. It reminded me of when I went to Africa for the first time in 2004 and God gave me the “ministry of presence”. I didn’t have to do anything or say anything, just me being their showed that God had not forgotten them. After I prayed and left the room others from the community continued to come and pray and sing songs with the grandmother. It was such a beautiful picture of “mourning with those who mourn”. All the grandmothers friends and community members her age just come and sit with her until after the funeral.
I was so blessed by those who were mourning of how they came together and helped each other out. I have so much to learn from this culture.
