I am eleven years old in Ndola, Zambia. My parents are missionaries, and my sister and I attend the Dominican Convent: the best school for girls in my city. I have a friend named Norene. She is pretty and skinny, something I longed to be even as a child. On Saturday mornings I go to her house to hang out before our matinee cinema. We walk downtown and pay twenty ngwee to view the one movie offered. Besides Norene having a sister and hosting club meetings at her house with neighboring boys, I have few memories of her.
I am older than I want to say. Norene and I are now Facebook friends. Reunited after almost forty years, I know little of her except she loves the Lord and has a heart for those in need. She is involved in organizations that feed the homeless and help the women of South Africa. Norene lives outside of Johannesburg.
I have a daughter. She is young still; only seventeen. She is going on a mission trip to Kenya in August and, when her team flies home to California, Adele is flying to South Africa. After spending a week with her grandmother, she will be staying with Nolene and participating in her life and work.
I am entrusting my daughter to a stranger. Am I uneasy? Not really. For the Lord laid this on both my heart and the heart of Norene. My daughter is young, but mature. I am praying God will work through this stranger, to touch my daughter’s heart and help her in her search for God’s will for her life. And I pray my daughter will help this stranger recognize what an important role she plays in the Kingdom of God.