My husband had left me. I found that going to church was the only thing left that gave me peace of mind. Sunday morning I got up and glanced at the sleeping streetkids, surely they wont be awake, they only went to bed at 3am! Alone, but I did not feel on my own, as I felt the presence of the Lord, walking to church perfectly at peace with the soft sun on my skin as the slight breeze swept away my sins while I confessed them one by one. During praise and worship I prayed to God while tears streamed down my face.  "Dear God, how we needed You!"

Back home my peace flew out the window with the speed of a tornado, eventhough all the way home I promised myself to be more patient and kind. The streetkids had left the house in a state, the bed’s were unmade, clothes on the floor, blankets everywhere. Some had already left to do what it is they usually do, others were still sleeping.  Being holy was the furthest thing from my mind right then, I shouted and sweared, screamed in frustration: “I’m done, I’m up, I can’t take it anymore!  The bedroom door slammed closed behind me, and that is where I stayed till evening, refusing to come out even when the streetkids knocked continuously and tried to peep through the little window to see what I’m up to. I needed to be alone, I was sulking, crying, moping, feeling so sorry for myself. Coming home to feed 34 hungry hungry streetkids (food was the first thing they always asked when they saw me) my husband left me, my own family hated me, and why, because of street children, and what did they do for me, nothing, nothing! How much more must I give?

Finally early evening I had to open the door, when the streetkids came knocking for the so maniest time. A young couple came to tell me that the street children were throwing stones. Storming out the bedroom, thinking it is a story, ready to kill the lying little cheats, I looked straight into two amazed young adults. The look on their faces said: “You’re a crazy woman!” When they asked if it was my home, I said: “only the one bedroom, the rest of the house belonged to the streetkids.” and “Do you have sponsors?” “No,no, we don’t" I said, but I was silently thinking : "Who would want to sponsor little nightmare’s who throw people with stones and lived like animals?”  As they left and I saw them shaking their heads.

Then came the police came to tell me one of the streetkids had made a case against another one of the street children, and they are investigating the complaint. The house had been transformed into a state beyond recognition by then, it looked like the city center on a very windy day, dirty and ugly, dust, newspapers, plastic bags everywhere. Embarrassed, while the two policemen stood there, absorbing the surroundings without comment. The only excuse I could give the policemen was that the whole day I refused to talk to any of them.  Clearly it did not have the desired effect, I must remember not to try that again.