Although I gave birth to only two white children, I have many more black children in my heart. The nineteenth child is called Simon. I will never forget when I saw him for the first time – we picked him up, barefoot and tattered, from the street of the big city where he lived and was surviving with food that people threw to him. At night he often talked in his sleep, mostly cursing everyone and everything, and at dinner, he always hid a piece of food as a “reserve”.
He now goes to school, he no longer has lice, and only God knows what he all had. And instead of swearing words, he constantly sings with his full voice, not very accurate but very sincere. “There is a place for me in the house. I am a child of the King, I know!” And the main event for us was his repentance a few weeks ago. Simon was nobody’s, and then he became ours. And now, finally, he has become HIS. Simon does not know how to read, but he really wants to learn it, and if you go into his room during the day, you will surely find him sitting on the bed and staring dreamily at the Bible – the only book he has. And every evening he prays for a long time, always out loud.
Matthew, his roommates said: “Yesterday we prayed together before going to bed, and Simon prayed for so long that I fell asleep, and when I woke up, he was still praying.”
I recently became a mother, for the 19th time. I have been told I am out of my mind. Yes – I answered. 19 is just a number, but behind each of them is some gray hair, and there are always a million questions … Yes, I lost my mind. But, every time I see their smiles, their glowing eyes, and hear a “mommy” – I know that I am ready to do it 20, 30, and 100 times. Give us strength, Lord.
Ministry in Papua New Guinea – Eugene & Ira Konstantiniki