Playing with AIDS orphans and remembering who we are

Try playing with Aids orphans for a day! Try to keep up with their energy. And realise that our ideas about this illness is way out! Saturday was an amazing day.

Anne-Marie decided to have a different kind of birthday this year - one that emphasised giving, and not receiving. We gathered a group of friends and visited Doulos, an Aids orphanage in Vereeniging. Anne-Marie built up contact with them through a work project she managed. The experience of playing with these kids was very meaningful. Staring the paradoxes of life and death present in these terminally ill youth shakes me from the sleepiness of a meaningless wandering. In as much as we wanted to give to these kids, they gave us even more. In the words of Emma, the leader of the project: "These kids aren't like terminally ill adults, even though they are very ill! They want to live!"

We rented a jumping castle! We run horse races with kids jockeying on the backs of willing adults, and later adults on the back of other unwilling adults. We played with a soccer ball and whoola whoops. Shrieks of excitement could be heard from all angles (not sure if it was just the children). We ate cake, laughed, cried and got sunburn. Play is for everyone!

Another incredibly meaningful part of the day was the uniting power the day had for different groups of friends. Whites, blacks, Christians and non-Christians. One day of focusing our attention on serving something bigger than ourselves, allowing for the universe to not revolve around us, breaking free from the preoccupations and fixations that our hearts trap us in. This was all that was necessary for the magic of connection to do its work.

On the theme of play and toys, as well as horses and jockey's, I'm reminded of Woody from the movie Toy Story. Woody loses his way as he becomes separated from Andy, the boy who not only owns him, but loves him. There is a moment when the plot swings as Woody realises who he is. He looks down at his boot and sees Andy's name written on his boot soul. He remembers who he is by remembering whose he is!

We find such a big part of our identity in the whose. This weekend reminded me. I belong to Anne-Marie, my friends, my colleagues, and kids in need. We all belong to our Father, who loves and owns us. His Name, is written on our souls.

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This post would be incomplete without a HUGE tribute to my lovely wife, Anne-Marie. Her selfless way of caring and loving is constantly challenging and changing me. She raises the bar on how to love. She reminds us of the One who loves first.