Today I sat with my Swazi friend, who just lost her sister to AIDS. Her sister was only 42, and she is leaving behind 6 daughters, a son, and several grandchildren who don't have a father in the picture. It is tragic, and colors in a little more of the bleak picture that we are faced with in Swaziland.

But, as sad of a day as it was, in a way it was one of the most significant and heart-warming days I've experienced since I got here. So many times in life, we don't really know if our lives are making a difference, if we are really living for what we were created for. This was one of those rare days when I felt like I got it right – that I was precisely where I was supposed to be doing precisely what I was intended to be doing. And I wasn't doing much. I just took food for the family; Marius and I gave a little money towards the funeral expenses, and I simply sat on a little bench with my friend for a while.

The grandfathers sat on a little woven mat under the tree. The grandmothers sat on a different mat under another tree. My friend's late sister's children were in their thatched hut, crying and mourning the loss of their mother. There was an open fire with a big black pot of stew cooking. We were surrounded by their beautiful land - corn growing all around the homestead, mountains off in the distance, and over us a big blue canopy  of sky.

After my grandfather died several years ago I was surprised by some of the goofy things people say to you in your time of loss, and I never wanted to be like that to others. Today I simply took food, told their family I was sorry for their loss, and sat with my friend in her time of need.  Sometimes, maybe that is the best that we can do.

jodi