I was sitting in the back of the bus watching my fellow team members’ heads and bodies bounce back and forth as we drove through the dirt and rock roads of Bujumbura, Burundi.  It was warm with no A/C and closed windows so the dust wouldn’t fill the bus or our lungs.  We pulled to the side of the “road” where every Burundian child from the neighborhood quickly greeted us.  We were traveling to different widows homes that day.  The organization we traveled with, Sister Connection, built these widows homes, but these specific widows we visited did not have monthly sponsors still. 

            We walked about 200 feet or so past a broken building to a narrow path leading to the back of the brick building.  The entire community of children was still following us, touching our skin and practicing their English “Good morning” (it was afternoon), and none of them seemed to notice how crowded the narrow path was.  At the end of the narrow path we took a left, which led to a narrower path that had a brick building to our left and a significant drop off to our right.  Our feet were carefully placed on rocks and dirt so not to slip off the roughly 1 foot wide path.  Josh and I held our 3 boys 9, 7 and 4 years old close as the crowd gathered around us and not a single non white person seemed to care one bit that there was a huge drop off. 

            Suddenly we stopped.  I looked up and saw a shack.  I thought, “Surely this isn’t the “house”?  This is a shack.”  I’ve been to many homes built by Sister Connection, but this was on a cliff and was very small.  This was the house.  The widow’s name was Jeanne and she had met another widow in the neighborhood who allowed her to build onto her home because the price of land is so expensive in the city.  Jeanne told us about how thankful she was to have a roof over her head, how happy she was to meet her widowed neighbor who allowed her to build, and how grateful she was that Sister Connection built her this wonderful home.  Her smile was contagious and her joy was deeply genuine.  Jeanne had her arm around 1 of her young children the exact same way I had my arm around my own child, but hers wasn’t for protection so they wouldn’t fall off the cliff!

            The team asked Jeanne some questions, “Where does the rain go in her home?” There was a gap between the 2 homes, but Jeanne said they dug a hole and the rain goes straight down instead of being in their homes.  We asked if she has been able to find a job.  She said she makes bricks and carries them whenever there is a local project or she fetches water for other people and her children help her so they can make more money.  If she makes bricks and carries them for 10 hours a day she will make 2,000 francs, a whopping .97 cents.  If she carries water she makes 200 francs or .10 cents, but if her children are able to help they can make .40 cents.  A meal to feed her whole family beans, local vegetables and cassava costs her 5,000 francs ($2.44). 

            I stood there as a mom in tears as I listened to a glimpse of the difficulty this fellow mother faces with her 3 children.  And yet I saw the God she worshipped, and He was much bigger than the God I know.  I knew there was only one God we both served, but somehow her view of Him was so different than mine.  My mind was racing.  The housing initiative through Sister Connection is huge; it is $750 to build a home for a widow and many churches, individuals and small groups have built over 2,500 homes.  But Jeanne was unsponsored, like 1,100 widows who have had homes built. 

They are sincerely grateful for the roof over their heads and for the safety of a door that locks, but I saw their struggle to feed their children.  I saw the fire in their eyes to provide and the overflow of thankfulness for what they have received.  Jeanne’s oldest son is 9 and she has worked hard to do her best to keep him in school, because she knows what an education means.  I know with a sponsor, someone to commit to $35 a month where 100% of that money goes straight to her, she could feed, clothe and send all 3 of her children to school.  This mother could go from hoping to have enough for 1 meal a day to eating 3 meals a day if someone would sacrifice $35 a month.  $35 a month, what do I buy that I don’t need?  What could I sell?  What could I “sacrifice”?  Sacrifice suddenly looked a lot different on that cliffside in Burundi than it does in my suburbia lifestyle in central Indiana.