The Day John Came into our Lives

I happened to be in the garden by the front gate when I heard the familiar knock.  When door bells don’t exist, hitting a small stone on the metal gate seems to work well.  I found a young man waiting to tell his story.

John explained that he was a genocide orphan and had been able to finish high school by himself but now needed work.  I looked at this young adult and wondered again why I had thought genocide orphans were all babies.  These were the people who needed help but how I wondered could I give him work when we already had all the help we needed?  I told him to return in several weeks and that I would ask around for anyone who could use help.  As I turned to go, he said, “Madame, you see I am hungry”.  I had heard this story over and over and I longed to find John a job.

One week late, John was back.  This time I told him I could give him a job for one day.  He was delighted and so he came into an empty bedroom where our crate boxes and all the storage paper had been dumped.   Hours later I checked on John to find the room was wonderfully organized.  He grinned when he saw my delight.  Lunch was served to the household and he ate a huge bowl of stew.  As he was leaving, he saw the large basket of ironing.  When he offered to iron, I knew I could have him come on a regular basis.

Little did we know then but three weeks later, we were using the same boxes for moving across town.  John was needed daily for almost two weeks and we needed so much help in the new house.

It is common and tender for the African people to refer to older people as Mommy and Daddy.  Somehow, it softens my longing for our family for at least I hear someone call my Mommy.  So it was that I got the text from John this week,”Mommy, I got a scholarship!  Can I come to show you?”

John came early to show us all that his name was in the newspaper as one of the national scholarship recipients, which would be in the math, physics and chemistry track.  At lunch we all surprised him with a celebration party.  As we all gathered around the table for grace, Cal asked for God to bless John in this new adventure.   John turned to Cal and asked,”Daddy, are you proud of me too?”   I slipped away to cry at the poignancy of such a question. Cal had already told him how proud he was of John, but John, who had raised himself, needed fatherly affirmation  so deeply, and he had to hear it again.

Tomorrow is ironing day, John will again be here with his broad smile.  We have been so blessed to have him in our lives.