And so it began... I like to think that sometimes the Lord wants to just keep us on our toes, remind us who is really in control. In fact, I'm pretty confident of that! A few days before Saturday, we got word that additional paperwork was needed to complete the rescue and be able to transport the kids to the shelter. Long story short, we were able to get what we needed, but there was a bit of anxiety surrounding whether or not we would be able to stay on the projected timeline. That's the beauty of Ghana – with a limited window of time in country because of significant travel, we're to a large degree at the mercy of a culture which doesn't exactly place time as a high priority. But we were ready, the village was ready, and the Lord showed His favor once again.
After that, the rest of the journey went incredibly smooth. Much of that was a testament to the fact that Sabonjeda really has adopted the partnership that we initially presented – and not just that they're willing to work with us, but that they've taken on ownership of the project as a community. They've shown in tangible ways that they choose to live a better life – to give their own children and their trafficked children a better life as well.
This was evident in the ways they blessed the children and joined our team in praying over them as we met under the mango tree. This was evident in the ways they had many of the children dressed in clean clothes and with fresh haircuts. It was evident in the ways they walked with the children down to the boat, making sure they were safely settled in and ready for the journey. Perhaps not every village will respond in this manner, but so far we're 2-for-2, and that may just be a lesson of trust for us – that if we continue in seeking the highest good of each village, our established relationships will make all the difference in the ways we are received and sent off.
Watching our team walk out of the village with the children is always so surreal, and it happens so very quickly. I left the mango tree meeting in time to get down to the boat to shoot the group walking out. One of the fish cages was out of the water, so I climbed up to stand on it for a better view. And in about 3 minutes, the group was down to the shore area and all the kids were clamoring to get on the boat – and I was still standing 5-6' in the air realizing I should be on the boat too! I wish I could freeze that moment and look at it from every angle, see every child's face, every master's expression. It truly was a release, a celebration.
Once we climbed in the boat, the village waved and cheered and sent us off in great spirits. I can't imagine what the day was like for them. Happy to know the children will be able to go to school? Fearful of the future and the reality of no longer having the children to help them work? Wary of whether we really will be back, despite our promise to return the next week? Sad to see the children go, many of whom have been with them since infancy? I'm sure a mixture of all of the above. But I am so incredibly grateful that they are choosing new life and trusting the process. What a gift. We call this part of the process "rescue", but it's not just for the children; it's a true rescue for the entire village as well.
My favorite moment of the day, and perhaps of the entire trip, came right as we all settled in the boat and pushed off a little from the shore of the village. We had a comprehensive list of children – their names and ages – leading up to the trip, but those are never 100% confirmed until we're actually in the boat pulling away. We all counted the kids multiple times (making sure not a one was missing – and that we didn't have any stowaways!), and then Samuel called them all by name, one at a time. And that moment for me was so very rich. Hearing their names, matching those names with faces, placing identity on each.
Dear child, you are no longer a number on the lake; you are Kingsley and Dorcas and Hannah and Ame and Albert and Dotse and Roland and on and on. All 22 of you.
Yes, so much more than a rescue.
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