A lonely church building stands atop a hill overlooking the
picturesque Chain of Mitumba mountains in eastern Congo. The mountains are part
of the East African Rift and rise to 3,308 m (10,853 ft) – about halfway
between the heights of the Great Smokey Mountains and the Rocky Mountains. 
Under the shade of its barren mango tree, two children
looked on as seven Congolese and two American faces spilled out of the hot box
onto the dust-laden grass. These were not the first children I found in Congo,
but they were the first on the journey to our end destination. That they
happened to be a boy and a girl, as the first sponsor for Congolese dollies had
intended, was no coincidence. This place was not packed with children clamoring
for food or money, let alone ANY other people. Pasquale and Mapendo stood
quietly alone…watching. That is how I knew.
Pulling the boy and girl dollies out of my overstuffed bag,
they could finally take a deep breath. I approached the children cautiously as
many children run away because stories of white people masquerading as
officials led to abductions and hangings. Pasquale and Mapendo accepted their
gift with some observable caution as Kizombo Jr. translated my short message
about the love of Jesus. They allowed me a short squeeze before we released
them to return to their duties.