Sunday here in Bundi. So far Sundays are the hardest days. I miss our home church and all the friendships there and the worship and the fellowship and . . . Well, now I’m crying so I better get on to the news.

We joined the community church this morning. The preacher is a local man named Charles. He has a beautiful countenance. I really enjoyed his sermon and felt my heart drawn to God through it ( there was a translator as most of the missionaries attend there). I kept remembering throughout the service the many Psalms that talk about “the nations” praising God and marveled that I was seeing firsthand this faraway nation knowing and praising the one true God. It really took my breath away.

When we got home many children were waiting for us. Some from next door and others from farther in the village. The ones from farther away brought us two small pumpkins. They are older children just ending primary school next year, around 12 and 13. Between the five of them and about 16 from next door we had quite a crowd. One of the older ones speaks English quite well and we played Uno with some of them. What ended up happening was that the older ones pushed the younger ones from next door away. Before I could even understand what was happening a real power dynamic had begun. The older ones trying to protect us from the younger next door children who they declared “fieves” (thieves). I kept trying to explain that they are welcome to come and sit with us. Up to this point we had not invited any local children inside our home. We have been playing outside and in groups. Well, while I was helping Quinn, the older five children went inside with Naomi locking all the other children out. I was a bit at a loss. I could not allow all of them in and . . . .well, longer story shorter, some of the younger kids ended up running into our home, grabbing some of our things and running out again while I was saying “weisaloe” (goodbye) to the older ones. I caught one of them with things in his hands, just little dinky things that mean nothing, but I was so sad that he had taken them from us. I called him to me and opened his hand and took the things out and he just looked up at me and I held his head and said (though he did not understand me) ” I love you so much, but you may not steal from us.” I think some of the other children took things that we did not get back. I had the older girl translate for me and told the children that we want to trust them and we can not trust them if they steal, but that no matter what they do we will keep on loving them just the same. I told them that Jesus loves them even more, and that He says not to steal. The children all listened solemnly and said “eh” in serious tones. They all seemed very surprised that I did not punish anyone or turn them in to their elders for punishment. That is the way here. I know if I told their fathers or uncles or grandfather they would be beaten. That is the way they handle things here. I am trying love, we will see how it succeeds. . . .

Naomi and Quinn and I came inside and prayed for the kids. Naomi said ” it was good that you told them you loved them even when they stealed”, the kids both felt sad for the neighbor children and I was glad for that. It is easy to feel angry and betrayed and perhaps they will next time if it is something they care more about. We prayed that God would give us wisdom to know how to love they children, and the older ones too. And show us how to treat them.

I have thought over and over today about some difficult neighbor situations God gave me while we lived in the States, and thanked Him for those times that I always saw as such a tribulation. In reality I can now see how they laid some good foundations for the situations with children here. I never cease to be amazed by God’s plan, so vast and so intricate. How is it possible??