This face


You never know when it will happen, when you suddenly receive sight.  You see something in a wonderfully strange new way, as if You are the only one, ever, who has seen it.  You feel an immediate relationship  to the object of your attention.

I remember once, sitting by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere while my husband changed our flat tire and I noticed a little flower growing nearby.  An otherwise ordinary wild-flower made exceptional in the moment.  The flower moved in the breeze and moved me with her dance.  I could almost hear her whisper, “Look at me.  I am here just for you.  You will be the one I dazzle with my brilliance in my short life time.”  I saw, really saw this one flower in this one spot in this exact moment.  I had a mysterious notion that someone had moved heaven and earth, including blowing our tire, to bring that flower and me together to arouse me, bless me, love me.

I have passed by all types of flowers in my lifetime, zillions of them.  They all sort of blend and merge and make for great scenery along my life’s journey. People are like that too.  Faces flash by on the news, in the grocery store, at the airport.  I zip by them and  absent-mindedly categorize them into manageable varieties: beggar, pilot, American, businesswoman, mother, Asian, orphan, criminal, banker, movie star.  Perhaps I smile, perhaps not.

But this one day, this one face crossed my Facebook screen and caused me to pause for a moment.  Gracefully, miraculously I could see.

Learn more about the amazing people who found and care for this child and others at Orbit Village.

One Little Boy

We sat together, a group of friends, sisters, really.  We had been meeting for some time now, trying to honor our commitment to grow in our faith.  We were studying bible stories, sharing our hopes, failures, dreams and concerns when the message came.

Shon clicked on her lap top to check her e-mail, something she had done hundreds of times over the past several months.  She was looking for the answer to her heart’s deep, deep prayer.  We all stood in awe as she opened the attachment from an Orphanage in the Congo.  And there he was.  Her son.   From the very first image, his beautiful eyes sent the unmistakable message that he was longing for her as much as she for him.

Waiting to be united, Shon was sometimes disappointed, frustrated and discouraged yet she was pregnant with hope, excitement, and peace.    Encouraged by photos, notes and updates from parents who had gone before her in the adoption process, she plowed through the paper work, prayed and persevered.    There were two trips to Africa.  The first, a brief visit to finally meet her son and the second, a few weeks later,  when her husband traveled to bring him home.  Shon patiently endured the long final days of waiting.  Moise officially became part of Shon’s family on April 22, 2011.   Those of us who know this family realize that he was always theirs.

Moise is an incredibly engaging, happy, little boy who lives with his mother, father and brother in Georgia.  We thank God for this one captivating child.  Other beautiful children are currently living in the Kaziba Orphanage in DRC where they receive love and shelter from disease, hunger, violence and despair even though there is never enough food, medicine or supplies.  Perhaps you feel compelled to help.

Mother Teresa said, “If you can’t feed a hundred people, then just feed one.”  Click on the link below and give. (mention Moise in the comments)  A tax-deductible letter will be e-mailed to you right away.

Be blessed.

Can you read the signs?

I kept looking at the mosaic of interesting faces for signs, clues to help me categorize the people of this rich country.  I wanted to know which physical features differentiated Afrikaners from blacks, whites, or coloureds.  My untrained eye would pick out a face and my un-harnessed mouth would ask, “Is he a coloured?  Is she an Afrikaner?”  And, to my chagrin, I never once, got it right.

I saw a sign on a wall in a home which let me know that I was not the only one confused by this.  It delighted me during dinner conversation to learn that, “today, we are all South Africans.”


Later in the week I went hiking on Table Mountain.   I was busy packing selected images into memory storage, my visual file overloaded.  Nature was screaming, “Look at me, remember this,” when a sign on  a rock silenced me.  I thought of the people of South Africa and the great depth of their richness.  I recalled my brief and detached education of their history and struggle for equality.  I embraced a keener awareness of their ongoing challenges, not all that different from my own country’s.


Next, we hiked the trail at Cape Point.  We walked until we had to stop to catch our breath.  We walked close to the edge of steep cliffs.  I was grateful that it was not raining, the imagined slide down into the ocean or onto the rocks, nerve-wracking.  As one afraid of heights, I had to focus on the horizon to avoid becoming dizzy.  The path was bending and twisting around the most luscious vistas.  And suddenly we reached the end, the farthest point at the Cape of Good Hope.  Another sign.  Could this be the destiny of our journey as brothers?  In the end……………………


We won’t throw stones.