Possible dreams

June has arrived in Swaziland and the aloe is in bloom. Her sunset orange flowers curve like fingers of light towards the African skies.

I have not written here for some time. Sometimes it feels as though there is too much to say. How can I explain all that has been lived and loved and tasted over these last few months. Little words seem incapable of holding the vastness of it all. The subtleties of sorrow, the laughing beauty, the vibrant richness which has filled the contours of every new day.

And yet I also feel a deep need to share the stories of these people; Their hardships, their little victories, their spirit of grace. So when I return to Australia in a couple of weeks time I will start documenting them here on this blog. One by one.

I wrote a post recently entitled 'Does it matter whose child?". I described two little orphaned children who were quite literally all alone in this world. Their mother had died of AIDS and their father was working in a town many miles away. They had no one to feed them, clothe them or show them the love that is the birthright of every little child. There were also rumors in the community that they were being hurt; That a man convicted of rape was lingering around the household in the early hours of the morning.

After many discussions with the social workers from the Ministry of health, I am happy to report that we have managed to place these children at Belembu, the only orphanage in Swaziland. They were moved last week.

I visited them there and was so glad to find that they were living in beautiful surroundings with a community of very happy children and kind carers. They are now receiving 3 meals a day, clean clothes, education and loving care. Slowly but surely, they are finding their smile.

Sometimes it feels to me as though so called 'developed' countries wash their hands of developing world issues. Naming them too large, too difficult, too complex. But it has been my experience that it truly is possible to find ways of changing the trajectory of life for children who are suffering in our world.

It requires only that we have hearts brave enough to turn our faces towards them and say "How can we help?"

I am well aware that we live in a wounded world. A world where bandaids are temporary and the buds of change are often torn from their stems by the impatient and cynical.

But there are still possible dreams. There are still gifts of hope which each open moment provides.

May each of us be granted the grace to see them,

My love to you all,

Maithri