What can be done to change a world

As I read through the emails and comments from those who follow this blog, a common theme is expressed in the question “What can be done to change a world where terrible things happen?” I have reflected very much on this cry. From the beginning of our journey Karen and I have felt the weight of it. Yet the real truth of it is this, we ourselves are being changed into people of hope. Every time we encounter the once lifeless eyes of children now smiling their impish smiles up at us, we know we are seeing a miracle. Some say its God’s miracle, some are not so sure.

But it is a miracle.

No longer a miracle unseen, no longer a gift unopened, no longer a picture beyond our dreams. Life reappears in the desert flowers when the rain comes. Drop by drop, it transforms the faces of the children. So we ask for such rain to fall in abundance and it comes. All the pennies given, every volunteer hour graciously spent, every honest tear shed, they all revive this parched land. For it becomes a glorious flood. Today as we returned over the mountains from Worcester to Cape Town, the rain cascaded in great sheets down the steep gullies of the high peaks forming great foamy cataracts in the valleys below. Enormous waterfalls, dozens of them, had appeared. In a few days there will be an explosion of colour.

Its like that with the children.

I spent an hour in the prison at Knysna. In the larger wing which holds the convicted, I took time in the yard with the 160 men in their bright orange prison issue. Some were huddled in two’s and three’s, some walking up and down, a school of silent domino players noisily despatching their play on the wooden board, others electing to sleep the afternoon in one of the four dorms. Aged from 25 to over 60, they seemed like school children in a schoolyard. Men who never grew up. In one of the rooms, a remarkable woman called Cora teaches them how to sew soft toys for children to the sound of ambient music which calms them. She gives of her time for free every day and then works evenings to support herself. She is white. She brings rain to this parched prison place.

People like Cora lead us into new dimensions, lift us to new levels. Some years ago something changed in this middle aged woman and she was able to break new ground. To spend time with hardened black criminals dressed in orange. In a little prison sewing room.

Performing miracles.