Muzungu... Mulebwelelamo?

Justus walked grabbing my hand. He is a feisty thing. He yells over the other kids and pushes and shoves and mocks me. I can tell he is saying this even though I do not know anything in Lungu besides their words for "Hello, how are you?" He is adamant, refusing to believe that I do not know what he is basically shouting at me. He seemed angry and all at once, he stops and something in his eyes change. He doesn't smile an angry smile but a kind one and he asks the same question he has been asking except this time, his voice sounds more compassionate, more feeling, more wanting. "Are you going?" I walked to the boat and ask Sunday, one of the missionaries here, what he said. "Are you going?"

That's what he said. "Foreign woman, are you going?" I sat on a beach at a local lodge just thinking over this. Yes, little sweet man. I am. 

And I'm sorry. 

I cannot imagine the people that must walk in and out of lives for those children. How neglected so many of them are. How forgotten they are when there are siblings who come along and there's no lap to sit on. No hand to hold. No attention to be given. 

What a heartbreak that so often, we come and go in too many peoples' lives. Way too many. I want to go find Justus in Chippewa one day and ask him, "Who stayed? Who was there? Who walked with you through life?" 

I'm praying for a someone for Justus. A stayer. An "I'm not leaving-er." One who does not come for an hour and walk away. 

And more than even that, I'm praying that you are a "stayer" for someone. A Justus. A high school girl. A foster child. An orphan. Your neighbor. 

Grateful for a stayer who's also my deeply loving Savior and also many stayers in my journey who have loved, mentored, and discipled me. Love, Melis