A Pastor's Daughter's Diary

The Orphanage

Dear Jesus,

My alarm buzzed on my reading table, forcing me to get up to turn it off.

I knew that the temptation to snooze it if it were to be close by would have been so strong, since my subconscious would have switched to Saturday mode.
So, last night after concluding the prayer session with Kathlyn and Priscilla, I set my digital alarm to 5:00am and put it on my reading table across from my bed.

I did that so that my priority of having konoinia with you, early every morning morning, will not be compromised.

Kneeling by my bedside would have also proven to be a lure to drift back to dreamland, so I wrapped my blanket about my body and opened my room’s balcony door.

As I stepped out to the balcony, the chilly morning air swatted my face, bringing me out of my drowsiness. I shivered from the raw cold. I sat on my mini-swing, and worshipped, and prayed, and read your word as I enjoyed the view of our garden bathed in the soft glow of sunrise.

I went back into my room an hour later, when I was done. I stepped into my bathroom to take my bath.
*Brrr* I stepped out of the nippy shower with a shiver. Today of all the days, my water heater decided to quit on me.

I wrapped my body with my towel, drying off the little droplets of water on my skin.
Wet strands of hair, those that escaped the messy bun I had pulled my hair into last night, clung to my face.

I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror. I made funny faces just for lack of nothing else to do. My reflection payed me back in the same coin. It was hilarious.

Without wasting anymore of the little dress-up time I had left, I stepped into my black jeans, and wore crimson-purple, cotton top.

My digital clock spelled out 7:00am by the time I was all done. I was supposed to meet with the other volunteers at church by 9:00am, but I figured since I was a bit early, I could go catch up with Kathlyn.

I greeted my parents and scooted off, after a light cereal breakfast of Kellogs Coco Pops, to Kathlyn’s.

She was almost done by the time I got there. Her parents and her sister, Faith were spring-cleaning their compound.

I greeted them cheerily, and joked about how I was stealing Kathlyn away from her regular house chores.
I succeeded in hurrying her up and together we went to the church.

The rest of the volunteer group arrived not too long afterwards. We prayed together before we started out.

Arrows Children's Home came into full view after about fourty-five minutes of driving. Thankfully the trip there was not boring all thanks to Mr Faithful, our team leader, who kept us entertained with stories. We also sang fun choruses together.

Curious about such a name for an orphanage home, I inquired from the coordinator. He told me it was an inspiration from the book of Psalms 127:4, that children are as arrows in the hand of God.

The children jubilantly welcomed us with a song and dance presentation—they must have been informed, and prepared aforehand, of our visit.

As the other children filed in after the welcome song, a peculiar, little girl that had been peering at me in fascination all through, skipped to me, held my hand, and looked at me in the eye. She said these words with so much conviction that I was initially taken aback: “You look like Jesus.”

I was so shocked that I couldn’t say anything. I managed to compose myself, and I smiled at her.

I took in her appearance. She was a few inches taller than my waist height. She had brown, wavy hair brushed down in waterfall style, flowing down her shoulders. Her eyes were cute and puppy-like.
Her skin was golden brown when the light of the sun reflected on it. She had a smile on her lips that could melt mountains. There was a peaceful aura around her.