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.

As I walked her in and engaged her in small talk, she told me her name was Lydia, and she was seven years old, and that you, dearest Jesus, were her best friend.

I told her I was pleased to meet her, that I’d love to be her friend as I am also your friend. I added that she’s pretty, and quite bold for her age. I finally asked her why she said I looked like you.

She gestured for me to bend down.
I did, and she whispered in my ear—“I won’t tell you.”

Kathlyn was very instrumental in preoccupying the kids in drawing and painting exercises. Many of them made quite interesting diagrams. Others made artwork that looked like the scrawny work of a hungry, earth-scratching chicken.
Still, Kathy motivated those ones that they had a unique artistic style.
Some of them drew beaches. Some drew a complete, stick-family Lydia drew an angel.

I told the youngsters stories, most of them based from the Bible. I  was glad my stories fascinated them, too.

I espied some teenagers about my age in the orphanage, guys and ladies, but they were few in number compared to the little kids.

Mrs Freda, one volunteer from the choir department, taught them fun songs and dance steps. It was evident that the kids really enjoyed themselves during this part because this was when they had the freedom to groove and move their bodies.
Sitting to listen to stories and to draw wasn't surely the best activity for a bunch of hyperactive, little children.

We distributed the things the church had supplied—foodstuff, cloths, books, toiletries, and many more.

We also gave the orphanage coordinators a sum of money for the upkeep of the orphanage home.

Praying with them was galactic. The ‘Amens!’ of the children, I’m sure, must have shaken heaven’s gate.

Gratitude was etched upon the faces of, and came pouring out of the mouths of the coordinators  The children were jumping and squealing in pure delight.

The chief coordinator of the orphanage, Mr Martin, told us that their toiletries had been exhausted about three days ago.
They had prayed together with the children each night for this specific need.
We came just in time, in answer to their prayers.

Jesus, I say thank you on their behalf. You indeed are the Father to the fatherless, the prayer-answering God.

The time finally came for us to leave, and I was a little sad to leave those happy children who, even though they had either lost their parents or were abandoned, still knew that you loved them.

I had bonded with many of them, Lydia ranking the highest.
They also wished we didn’t have to go, but of course, we couldn't live with them forever.

Just as we entered the mini-van to go back to our base, I looked out the window at the waving group with watery eyes.

Lydia stood with a sad expression on her face. A dark, handsome guy who looked a bit like her stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

Lydia mouthed something I translated as “Don’t leave Him, ever,” and winked at me as she kept waving.
I immediately knew she meant you, Lord.

I smiled and waved back at her while I tried hard not to embarrass myself by crying.

Oh Jesus, please be with them all, especially Lydia—she’s a unique one. Let people keep seeing you in me, and never ever let me be separated from you.

Kathlyn, later that night, when we were chatting online, told me she was glad she came along as she had a great time and was inspired to care for the needy and orphans.

I wanted to tell her about Lydia's statement, but I didn't cos I realized it would amount to bragging or laying claims to an accolade I owned no right to. Unto you, Lord, be all the glory!

Thank you, Yeshua, for today.

**********
Wow, I successfully gave two updates in one day.🌟
Like the proverbial lizard that nods for himself after landing safely on the ground from a tall palm tree, I nod for myself.😌
Thank you Holy Spirit.🙏

So guys, who else thinks Lydia is cute🌹. Do you think their paths will cross again?

🌈Till the next update, God be with y'all.