Lindsey Long, Duke Divinity School student and 2011 Umoja Project intern
I was in a mood on Monday.
After spending two days and countless shillings talking to AAA automated phone messages trying to reload the debit card I had bought through them (which I bought because it was “fast and convenient to reload”), I had had enough. I even went, as my roommate calls it, “Chicago” over the phone on some poor guy who obviously had no authority whatsoever to do anything about my situation. Lydia and Camille, being the wonderful people that they are (and probably noticing the fire-breathing mood I was in) thought it would be good to pray. I tried to think about something other than the fact that I was going to have to call my mom to take off work and help me out while Camille said a prayer that I didn’t hear a word of. When she was finished I went right back to being angry at everyone and everything.
As I sat down to try to think who I could call to help me (or at least someone I could yell at) we heard a soft knock on the door. Lydia opened it to find two of the young students at Mawego Girl’s Secondary Boarding School standing on our doorstep. We immediately invited them in.
The girls giggled like it was a special treat that they got to come and talk to us. It reminded me of the way I used to feel when a favorite teacher would let me follow her into the staff room to get something. This made me laugh for two reasons. The first is the realization that I actually am old enough to be a teacher (weird) and the second is that it could be a treat for anybody to come and sit down with me (also weird).
I’d like to say my mood dissipated instantly, because I’d like to be that kind of person, but it didn’t. Anyone who knows me knows that doing anything involving finances, institutions and automated phone messages is like asking me to jam pencils into my eyeballs. Actually, I would prefer to jam pencils into my eyeballs. But the girls quickly told us they had come to collect the lyrics of a song we had sung the night before for something called “entertainment.” Entertainment is an hour or so on Saturday night where they get to hang out, dance, sing songs and generally entertain each other. We had taught them the song, “Blessed be the Name of the Lord.”
I sat down to write down the lyrics while the girls talked to us.
Blessed be the name of the Lord.
They spoke about the exams they were taking.
Blessed be your name.
They told us what it was like to live in a boarding school.
Blessed be the name of the Lord.
They told us about how they preferred being at boarding school where they did school work from 4:00 am to 10:00 pm.
Blessed be your glorious name.
Because at home they were responsible for house chores and cooking and that didn’t leave much time for studies.
Blessed be your name, on the road marked with suffering…
Then they began to tell us their dreams. One of the girls (an orphan who had shared with the group the day before that she often felt others looked down on her because she was an orphan) told us that she wanted to be a doctor. The other one quickly added that she wanted to be a news broadcaster.
Though there’s pain in the offering…
Then they told us that they were on their way to their next class (it was 7:00 pm).
Blessed be your name.
I quickly finished writing down all the lyrics, had them check that they could read my handwriting, reminded them how to sing the pre-chorus (Every blessing you pour out, I’ll turn back to praise, When the darkness closes in, Lord, still I will say…) and sent them on their way with a quick, strong hug.
When they left I heard Lydia say, “Wow, Camille. God really answered your prayer to remind us why we were here.” The prayer I hadn’t even heard. God answered it anyway and God answered it in a way that made me know God was up there, laughing at me, mischieviously showing me what was important, forcing me to remember why I’m here and who God is. All I wanted to do after the girls left was laugh at myself and at the mischievous and loving God that surprised and even sometimes tricked me into remembering my love for that God.
Blessed be the name.