Half way to what?

Today marks the middle of my time here. As I write I am sitting in Cari’s office listening to the rain hit the concrete as it runs off the roof. I can hear the preschool class that has been moved downstairs repeat their numbers over and over. It’s humid in the office, but I’m happy. I am a little tired, maybe, but that is true every morning. Cari is back at the guesthouse sick. Daniel has the day off. So, it’s just me today. It's also the first day of circumcisions, but I will write about that later. 3 weeks ago, I would not have known what that meant to be in charge. If I did, it might have scared me, but not anymore. Each day becomes more normal. I feel as though I belong, minus the fact that I still don’t speak Krio. Each day I watch, I listen, and I learn. Although some days I am not sure what I just saw, what I just heard, or if I learned anything.
Mostly, I wait. I wait for the kids to have a break from school so I can love on them. I wait for school to be out so I can eat with them. I wait for 1:35, so I can make the hike up the hill to the school were the others are to pick them up. I wait for nap time to be over so I can watch them stumble around from a good sleep in their own beds, under their own roof, in their own house. I wait for prayer time to hear them lift thanks to God. I wait for the sun to go down from the balcony. I wait for my bedtime. If I go to bed too early I will be up in the middle of the night. I wait to come back, so I can start raising money for our needs. I wait on God. I wait for His answer to my question “Is this where you want me?” I WAIT!
As I hear Quami arrive, I think about the things that have become familiar; the honking of the horn to let security know to open the gate, the questions about “how de hand?” the screams of delight when the bell rings, the older kids studying during their free time, the kids yelling “Uncle! Uncle!” every time I walk in a room, the fact that my body is a jungle gym when it’s play time, the smiles from the nursery kids when I come in and poke their bellies, the hands that randomly slide into mine, and the stares up at me from precious faces.
Now the preschoolers are repeating “Jesus turned water into wine.” I think we just said it for the 30th time in a row. It makes me wonder what I have given them. Each day I hear “Thank you Uncle” after the meals and I say “I don’t have anything to do with it. Thank God.” I have given things that physically will be here after I leave. However, will they realize what I want to leave the most. Will the boys and girls who I have sat with and answered questions with remember what I have told them about God? Will they understand that the love I pour out comes from my love for God? Will they understand God has helped provide all they have? Will they grasp the depth of God’s love for them.
It will be a miracle if they do. It’s a miracle when I do, because God’s love is beyond my comprehension. It’s a miracle that some of them are walking and talking. It’s a miracle that some of them are here. It’s a miracle what this place is doing. Can we expect Jesus to continue doing miracles? I think so. He is in the miracle business. I hear the kids reminding me for the 50th time now.