Gabe couldn’t believe it.
They were just children, many of them the same ages as Taryn and Tate, just eight and ten. But here they were, chanting rhythms and walking for miles and miles, for no reason at all but to remain safe, to keep from being kidnapped and forced to join a murderous army.
People called them night commuters, because that’s what they did. They walked, sang, and prayed all night, hopeful that if they kept moving instead of sleeping in one of the displaced persons camps, they would stay out of harm’s way. Some of their friends and relatives had been captured by the Lord’s Resistance Army and tortured or raped. Some had been forced to become soldiers and kill people they knew and loved.
When some of those young victims managed to escape, they too joined the band of night wanderers. Staying alive and free from the army’s grip was worth the wear and tear on their feet that came with the twelve-mile, one-way commute.
Gabe watched from the shadows and wanted to weep. His heart broke. God, please help them.
For the second time in days, he uttered a genuine prayer. For the first time ever, he received a reply in his heart.
That is what I have sent you to do.
When Stevens and a couple of Ugandan locals were preparing to slip away from the well-lit perimeter of the orphanage earlier this evening for a “special mission,” Gabe had insisted on coming along. Stevens and Chrissa had tried to talk him out of it.
“Gabe, this is your first time on a mission trip. This can be dangerous. Just stay,” Chrissa had said. She looked at her husband. “Lyle and I are prayed up; we’re prepared for whatever may happen, but I’m not sure you have that same level of assurance right now. Northern Uganda is dangerous.”
Gabe knew Chrissa was talking about the need to have a relationship with God. She didn’t know about his desert experience, though. He had connected with God and was ready to be of service. If Stevens believed this mission to another part of the country warranted the risk, he was going too.
While they were en route, Stevens shared details about Joseph Kony’s Lord’s Resistance Army and about how, if children weren’t rescued or hidden away, they could be taken and turned against their own families.
It happened every night, and youths whose parents had died of AIDS or in some other fashion were the most vulnerable.
“Malichi and Akello have already scoped out a couple of villages where children are living alone, fending for themselves,” Stevens explained while he and Gabe crouched in the back of the a car so no one could see them. Stevens’s white skin and Gabe’s light complexion would make them easy targets.
Malichi and Akello scanned the streets to make sure no one was following them.
“We’ll go into the villages and tell them to come with us, to safety,” Stevens said. “Since I am white, they know I’m not part of LRA. They trust me when I tell them I’m taking them to a better place.
“We bring them to southern Uganda, to one of the orphanages that cares for children, and they remain there until they are able to care for themselves.”
Now, under the veil of night, they had paused on their way to one of the designated villages near Acholiland to watch the night commuters’ routine trek.
“If they are all walking, how can we be sure that the children we want to help are at home, in their villages?” Gabe asked.
“Not everyone walks,” Stevens said. “Some are afraid; some just don’t know yet. There are still many children to help. We do what we can.”
Gabe sat back and looked at his friend. “How long have you been doing this, Stevens? Why haven’t you told me about this?”
Stevens shrugged. “When we do things for Christ, he is the only one who needs to know. This is not about me doing ‘good works.’ It’s about me loving others because I’ve been blessed to be loved.”
Malichi pulled away from their hiding spot and drove to the village he had selected. When he gave Stevens a thumbs-up, Stevens put on a lightweight hooded jacket and hid his face as much as possible.
He and Akello trotted along the edge of the village and entered two thatched huts. Within minutes, they returned with three children.
They thrust them onto the backseat of the car, next to Gabe. The saucer-sized eyes of two little boys and a little girl, not more than four, peered up at him.
Stevens tumbled in with them, breathless but excited. He motioned for Malichi to take off.
The two boys huddled together on the seat. The girl climbed onto Gabe’s lap and stuck her thumb in her mouth. She clung to his shirt as if they were on a tightrope and if she let go, she would spin into a freefall.
Gabe was speechless.
Akello turned toward the children and spoke to them in Acholi, their tribal language.
“I told them they are safe and they can go to sleep,” he said as Malichi drove swiftly, racing through the cover of night to reach southern Uganda. “They know we are their caretakers until we get them to the orphanage. I told them we are good friends and that we will protect them, okay?”
Gabe nodded. Wait until he told Rachelle about this.
Then he realized he couldn’t, not only because he couldn’t risk the safety of these three youngsters and other children like them, but also because maybe it was too late for his marriage.
Yet the biblical passage that Stevens had shared with him just last night, before they set out on this adventure, had encouraged him.
With God, nothing is impossible.
Gabe stroked the cheek of the little girl who lay against his chest falling into a deeper sleep with each mile they crossed, and he knew.
It was time to go home. For good.