The humid air licked at my fringe as I waited beneath the bell tower on
the grass of a wine farm in Cape Town, my beloved home town. The air
played with the rope that hung from the brass bell and as I looked up, I
noticed a plaque to the left of where I stood. It was just a normal day
out for me, acting like a tourist in my own city. Yet this bell
unnerved me, as I stood waiting for my husband on the lawn. Curiosity
gripped me and I walked over to the plaque. It held the words slavery on
it and bled with the slave stories of the Cape. Small drawings were
etched in to the brass depicting what life had been like for the slaves
who lived on this farm.
That night I prayed in tears for the broken lives left behind in slavery
and for those that still live as modern day slaves through human
trafficking and abuse. I heard His words fill the air, I am the Door, I
am the Return. These words were truth and though they referred to the
beauty of Grace’s redemption I knew they meant something more. A week
later someone we knew via social media, invited my husband and I to
preach the word of God with her on a mission trip to Ghana.......
The rest of my story evokes deep emotion in me, come and join me over at the
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