The End

Just a half hour ago, our team bid a tearful farewell to the children, teachers, and various staff members of Ray of Hope - but not before spending a lifetime-memorable day with them.

We took the children to an animal orphanage, which is much like a zoo, except all the animals were rescued, rather than purchased to fulfill the vision for an exhibit. We continued on to the park where we took the children last year. This time, we played soccer ("football" in Africa) with the children, rather than "Kill the Lion," which we played last year. The children had a wonderful time, and at one point, I was in a passing circle with my two sponsor children, unable to imagine how I could feel more blessed. It was a challenge to avoid passing the ball only to the two of them, but I think I came out fine.

The seven-year-old boy who taught me Kiswahili words on Wednesday stuck tightly to my side all day today. I found the gesture both touching and heartbreaking; I learned yesterday that, as I'd already suspected by his fixed attention on me all week, he does not have a mother. Not only did this child seek me out all day, but each time I stood beside him and draped my arm around him - my hand landing halfway down his torso - he reached up to clutch it, as if anchoring it, so I would not remove my arm from around his shoulder.

When the field trip bus dropped us off at our guest house a half hour ago, the children filed off the bus and lined up along the side of the road, so they could form a receiving line to hug us goodbye. I thought I'd be able to hug them all without much immediate pain, as I tend to be a delayed process griever. But about two hugs in, I began heaving wrenching sobs into the child in my arms, and then all those who followed. When I embraced Hendricka, Agnetta, Alfred, and Evelyn at the end, I became even more despondent.

The time flew by too fast. Deep attachment in only a week seems unlikely, but the love and joy these kids hold in their little bodies is magical. Plus, I endured this goodbye last year, so I know the worst is not yet over. What lies ahead is a lingering, permeating grief, which won't be marked by the tears I shed today, but with memories of the children and the Ray of Hope staff tapping at my bones in every moment. The people of this little school in Kawangware reside in me, on a cellular level. Goodbye in these circumstances is too confounding to comprehend: I can't leave them ... and yet, I just have.