Many an evening I stand at the brow of the hill where our house is in Sierra Leone. I look out over the town and I watch the the children playing — just being children. And I weep.
It’s a hard place to be. The sensitive soul hurts so deeply, so constantly. But there truly is a reason to be here. The ever-present specters of death and spiritual darkness are the reason . . .
As I sit on the veranda praying, I can hear the men singing, the burial grounds being just off our west boundary. A joyful change from the horrible wailing heard during a Muslim burial. “When We All Get to Heaven,” “The Sweet By and By,” “Nearer My God to Thee,” and several more.
To say nothing of the growing pile of dirty dishes from hastily eaten meals, and the floors that need to be swept. Then, a distraction. They always find the best times to arrive. But this distraction proved to be very pleasant and quite welcomed.
© 2026 All Rights Reserved | Gather the Fragments
Powered by Media Lifeline