Watching the horror of School No. 1 unfold on TV back in early September, the idea that six weeks later I would be pacing the corridors and classrooms of that same building never entered my mind.
To go and play football - an inconsequential game in the face of deep human tragedy and grief - seemed almost absurd. However, as a vehicle for demonstrating human care, and, more importantly, God's love, this project more than proved its worth. As one of the team of coaches put it, 'It was without question the most difficult and distressing experience of my life, but every smiling face I encountered, every hand that reached out to shake mine, every child I heard laughing during our time there rendered it worthwhile'.
Certainly football opened the door and provided the visible evidence of our love and care. It also made a lasting impression on the children and perhaps more so on the parents of those children rocked by such a horrific experience. Many of the mothers were amazed that men - in particular - would show concern to children. This appears to be counter-cultural in Ossetia and the local people clearly recognised that it was God's love for us that compelled us to care for their children.
