Small things: we had an extended prayer time last night, for the coming Day of the Lord in Bundibugyo, a time of repentance and vision for God's purposes . . . based on the book of Zechariah. In preparation I have been reading and re-reading the book, full of fantastic visions and poetic truths. It was not until prayer time, though, that the phrase jumped out of chapter 4: "For who has despised the day of small things?" This comes right after "Not by might nor by power, but by My Spirit, says the LORD of hosts." Rather incongruous, God of the angel armies in His power commending us to notice the small things. So today I offer a brief testimony to a few small things, mostly because in my tiredness I need to remember the fragility of redemption's visible presence in the muck of now. The best: Fransini smiled. Again. This baby was essentially dead last week, a tiny bit of orphan with a dedicated grandmother who was gasping with pneumonia so distressedly that we resurrected a long- disused generator to get power to the old oxygen concentrator . . . and now he's smiling. And we're matchmaking him to his six-month-old wisp of a female counterpart, Malyamu, who dipped down into the realms of death last week too, but has now revived. Both just reached 4 kg milestones (a 25% improvement on their descent to the 3ish range), and both smiled at us, little human eyes looking for interaction in spite of their hungry suffering.
One more anecdote...this afternoon, I dropped in on a nutrition seminar completely organized and executed by our three extension workers, a small group in the grand scheme of addressing world hunger . . .but 26 community members, men and women, young and old, had gathered to discuss team work and community development, chicken eggs and sustainability. And best of all, we merely encouraged and observed, it was Lemech’s vision.
Fransini and Malyamu, the prayers of a team mate, the pink clouds at dawn this morning, my kids who selflessly encourage us to go for this jaunt of a vacation without them, a bite of bread an sip of wine that partake of the reality of Jesus, these small things I do not despise.