This past week in Swazi felt like one long string of goodbyes; beautiful, painful, bittersweet goodbyes. The kind that make your chest ache but also remind you why you ever stepped into this in the first place. It was a week of last kisses blown across dusty roads, last hugs that squeezed the breath right out of us, last scribbled letters pressed into our hands by tiny fingers.
One moment I’ll never forget was with Holding Coffee, a 13-year-old boy who has become family to me in more ways than I can even put into words. Our last day at care point, he laid his head in my lap and silently cried for almost three hours straight. Three hours of grief, tenderness, and silent understanding. I held him the whole time, wishing I could somehow gather up his hurt and carry it with me. It was heartbreaking, but it also filled me with this deep realization: we truly made a difference here. We loved them well. They knew it. And they loved us back. Saying goodbye to our shepherd, Dumsile, was another impossibly hard moment. She has been a woman so full of joy, gentleness, and humor that it’s hard to imagine the care point without her love floating through it. She shepherded more than just the kids; she shepherded us too. What a blessing she has been.
Even with all the heaviness of the week, God gave us these small, perfect pockets of sweetness that served as little reminders of why we said yes to this in the first place. One of my favorite moments came on a rainy afternoon as the day was winding down. Usually only a handful of kids stay late in the day and we’ve grown especially close to them. Rain was pouring outside, so we huddled together under a tin covering us, the kids, and our shepherd, listening to Christmas music from a phone speaker. Some of us danced in the shelter, others ran giggling into the rain, and for a little while everything felt light and simple and full of joy. It was one of those moments that resets your heart. A reminder of why we were there. A reminder that loving God’s kids is worth everything.
Another memory I’ll carry forever was church on our last day in Swazi. We walked to church in the pouring rain. Our shoes were muddy, our clothes completely soaked, and we couldn’t stop laughing at how ridiculous we looked. But when we finally arrived, freezing, dripping, tired, we heard a message that was exactly what my heart needed to hear. It felt like closure. Like God whispering, I have never left you. I have never forsaken you. It’s okay to wrestle with emotions, but remember why you’re here. Focus on the calling, not the cost.
After the sermon, the church prayed over us. Then we prayed over them, and the room felt thick with the presence of God. That moment: that is why we came. That’s why the goodbyes are so heavy. Love always carries weight. And then, just like that, it was time to go. More goodbyes. More hugs. More walking away with rain on our clothes and something heavier resting on our hearts.
This last week in Swazi was full of tears, laughter, worship, rain, and an overwhelming reminder of God’s faithfulness. It hurt to leave, but it was the good kind of hurt; the kind that proves the love was real. That love is something I’ll carry with me long after the bags are unpacked and the goodbyes are behind me.
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