Last night a dream haunted my rest. Tangible as reality, I watched as my baby Lachlan was dropped and lost into dark murky waters. Frantic I searched for him. Every second of my dream was riveted by my fear. I still can hear my groans begging heaven to return him to me. As the moments for salvation ticked to a horrendous ending, I found his hands, desperate I pulled him to me and held him close. My tears washed the silt from his face revealing his most beautiful smile. Those same tears soaked my pillow lacing two worlds together. The grip of my dream hung heavy around my Mothering. Hours removed the sting of fear and I found myself holding another son. His frail body the heaviest thing I have ever held. We mothers talked of the daily search through the sea of poverty, grasping for salvation. This Mother, nineteen young years, has lived my dream daily.

She is stuck. Crippled annihilates any chance for noble work, no aid from her country or government. A child voice broken at six, abandoned to the grave. To hope for Change would weaken the callus built to protect, fuelling survival. She is simple, her world is the here and now. I listen my back supported by a slivered wall, I feel the ‘Rugged Cross’ burrowing into me. I think of Jesus who had his heart exposed, arms pulled to the shape of the cross. Innocence pulling at me, exposing my heart. I pray for wisdom to tear from the heavens, lacing two worlds, washing the silt of poverty. Heaven’s burden ~ heavy ~ I humbly ask for guidance in navigating the craze of Africa. I long to see Calvary’s shadow pointing a way for lasting Hope. More then just a weeks meal, medicine and water. My aching desire is to be woven into Innocence’s Salvation, beautifully lacing Haven and Earth.

(The above picture is my driver Arron holding Innocence and neighbour lady. They are standing in the shanty that houses six rooms, each rented out.)