I moaned inwardly, concerned that we might get rained out, but the program continued. Running from the duplex to the stage, with wet hair plastered to their heads, the girls did their worship dancing. The band played without missing a beat. It’s going to be okay, I told myself. A little water doesn’t hurt anybody. As if to answer my thought, a deluge pounded the tent canvas. People under the tent began to shift around. Sitting in the front row, I wondered what was causing so much movement. Then I turned to see a flow of muddy water slide across the once dry ground, and water dripping through holes in the tent. By this time, if a person found a dry space, that’s where the chair went, disregarding any type of order. The program continued despite the attack of nature.
Celin, the youngest, and Miriam, the oldest, shared their testimonies of what it meant to them to live in Shadow of His Wings Orphanage. Irma, whom we nicknamed “preacher,” gave an inspiring message. To hear them tell how blessed they were to find a family, love, and security in this refuge made the desire to rescue more children grow in my heart. With ten acres and the help of others, we could bring in many more children, including boys. Yes, Lord, this is just the beginning. You have more planned for us.
The pastor of a local church gave a sermon, followed by Sharon Parks, who gave her thoughts about the mandate the Lord impressed upon us when we started James Project of Latin America. She prophesied over the Project, and at the conclusion, lightning burst forth from the sky with a boom that made us jump and punctuated her words. With my heart in my throat, I wondered if the Lord did that on purpose. He sure had our attention.
After the bang of thunder, the girls did the symbolic foot washing for each pastor from the area churches. The intentions of this act showed others that as disciples of Christ, we desired to serve one another with humility and honor. It became obvious that hearts were moved when tears formed in the eyes of the pastors.
Next, the girls, with glittery rectangle scarves around their necks, mingled with the crowd to pray for individuals. The girls inquired of the guests for any specific needs and went right into prayer. “Caty, you can pray for people too, okay?” I said to our mentally challenged orphan. She knew what to do. She gave me a closed-mouth smile, cackled, and off she went. The mantels around the girls’ necks sparkled in the light, and they looked like little angels in ministry. My heart soared in pride and love. Certainly the people in the community could see how far these kids had come from the streets to where they are now.
After the ministry time, the rain ceased, but there were two inches of mud everywhere. The girls proceeded to serve the tostadas, cake, and juice to over six hundred people. We realized the number of attendees from the number of paper plates we used. Two hundred invitations reaped a large group of people.
When the mud-splattered people prepared to depart, as many as possible crammed in the vehicles or stood in the back of the pickups. Since we didn’t have graveled roads yet, many cars had to be pushed out of the muck. I wondered if the townspeople were disappointed because of nature’s interference and the large numbers of people. Gerber explained that the people liked us, or they would not have stayed when the rain began. People made comments before they left, thanking us and saying how they appreciated having an orphanage in the community. I think we sealed a partnership with many in the community that night. Thank you, Lord. The dedication of the property is a night we will all remember.