In Joroco in Africa, a woman named Marierose lived all alone. Her husband had died, and her two boys had been taken away by his brother. It nearly broke her heart, but there was nothing she could do. As is common in many parts of Africa, her children were essentially owned by their father; when he died, control over them passed to his brother as the nearest male paternal relative, and they now belonged to him.
Thinking to use the two boys as workers, this uncle took them away, leaving their mother devastated. She was always on the lookout for people who had travelled through the area the uncle lived in. Since it was very far away, such encounters were rare, but they at least allowed her to occasionally get news about her sons. What she heard made her heart heavy: Her children were in a bad position, having to work to exhaustion and often being beaten.
Marierose had no recourse but to pray and ask, “God, please, I want to have my children back!”
One day, she heard that her children’s uncle had left them with another family near Banga. When she further learned that a missionary planned to travel to that area, she asked to come along. “Sure, if you are ready to go at five tomorrow morning,” he said.
The next morning, she got on the back of the missionary’s truck and sat quietly until they arrived in Banga in the afternoon. “I will continue on foot,” said Marierose before asking, “When are you heading back?” “Tomorrow morning,” was the answer. “Good, I’ll be there,” she promised, going on her way.
She walked far into the night. The cooking fires still burned in the little village. The tired mother approached a hut. In the second half of the night, Marierose came out again, this time with a young boy holding her hand and an older one walking at her side. Nobody knows what happened inside, and when asked, all she said was, “God helped me.”
The three of them now had twenty kilometers to walk back to Banga, but when the missionary began preparing to leave in the morning, he found the three of them already sitting on the tailgate of the truck. Without a word, Marierose bared the back of one of her sons and pointed out the wide scars left by beatings he had received.
Tears came to the missionary’s eyes. “This truly is a mother’s love,” he thought as he drove. “She endured so much to get her children back!” In the rear-view mirror, he saw them sitting, Marierose in the middle, a child at each side encircled in her strong arms.
In the Bible, we read that God’s love is even greater than the love of a mother. The Savior endured so much in order to bring us back to the Father! There were no limits to what He was willing to do. This love is still there, for you and for me, and He will not rest until we are home, encircled in His arms.
H. Schilling
Be the first to comment