.... Cary entered the Rescued Children's camp. “Is Susan here?” she asked the guards.
“No, Madam. She had to go to an IDP for now. You might like to walk around, so you are free.”
Cary began to walk towards the main portion where she often interviewed some of them. It was hot outside, but could sit on the veranda. She looked ahead and saw a chair, and walked over and sat down.
Suddenly, two of the boys came.
“Madam, can I talk to you? I would like to do that!”
“Yes, you can. I always look forward to hearing from any of you. You can tell me what you have gone through during this whole time."
The boys sat on the floor. One of them nodded and smiled and the other talked and talked.
Cary said, “Simon, how old are you?”
“I’m thirteen. And I’ll tell you much of my story and you will laugh, Madam. I’m sure you will.”
“Then you talk. I’m looking forward to hearing it. You seem that you’ve been through much, but you are also smiling much.”
“In the middle of June, I was digging in my parent’s garden when the rebels came and grabbed me . It was very hard to be there and to see so much. So many of the ones with me were beaten, some killed, others forced to carry heavy loads, and we weren’t given food very often. Many were so very hungry and had to take the food around to the rebels, and they couldn’t eat any of it when it was in their hands to be given away. That was very hard.”
“How many were in your group? I’ve heard so many different numbers and it could be unusual and more difficult.”
“Our group had about one hundred rebels and about one hundred and fifty of us. We moved from one part of our northern country to another, partly because there were so many people and they needed to be sure to have enough to eat and drink and stay alive.”
“How long were you with it, and how did you get away?” Cary looked a bit confused and concerned.
“Well, I’ll tell you.” And he began laughing, “After six months me and other boy from another part of our country were told to go stand down on the road to watch out for the army and then run back and let them know. The rebels were hiding in the bush area. They knew the army was coming around. Then we were by the road for a while and none of the rebels showed up at us. And no army, either. I smiled at the boy I was standing with and said to him ‘Let’s leave.’ We did. I've never seen him ever again, because he ran a different direction than I did. He is from another part of our country. I’ve been here for a couple weeks, and someone is going around to try to find my parents at an IDP, so they will know I’m alive and I’m here. I’m very happy.”
Cary smiled. “I’ve never heard anything this wonderful. I hope you truly understand that the Lord protected and kept you. You must be special.”
Simon smiled. “Yes. I’m happy. My parents will be worshiping and thanking God."....
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This is truthful. Another piece of that chapter is also very truthful, but it's also sorrowful so I will put it out on another day. I certainly have hoped to see Simon, or hear about him, from my Soroti pastoral and nurse friends, but can't be there. I always just say I hope to see my dear ones when I'm in heaven and when they are ever able to be there.
All I can count on, doncha think?
4 comments:
I am amazed at all he endured and yet was so happy. I am pondering that over at my blog today, stop by!
Cary, thanks for sharing this story. We need to be aware of others who suffer around the world. first it should make us thankful we don't have to worry about rebels coming and taking us away, thankful for our freedom. Second, these stories make me sad but also make me hunger for the Lord to end this mess here on earth. Also it challenges me to continue to give out the gospel when ever I am given the chance, support those who serve overseas in these dangerous places, pray for them. thanks for the reminder of God working all over the world.
Your stories, your life, your words make a difference. It's good to reconnect with you again here, CaryJo!
God arranged for his and the other boy's escape. God is good. Thanks for sharing with us at Tell me a Story.
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