walking on the dirt road today from my house to the children’s home, i looked a 4 foot heap of trash that someone dumped in the middle of the road some days ago, down the smaller dirt road that darts off from it. there’s yet another large trash heap. children often play around it, hoping to find a carelessly discarded treasures like a juice box with a few ounces of juice still left in it, and i see a small girl, about the age of 3. she has something in her hand, white and round, which looks like a makeshift ball from my vantage point. she then pulls it into her chest as she skip over the rest of the trash, picking items out. she walks from the trash, and i notice what is in her arms, a used diaper. dirty, wadded up. i pause at this road meeting, waiting for her to come, so i can encourage her to put down the dirty diaper and then so i can wash her hands. she puts it down before coming to me, and continues to skip on, smiling, radiating joy through her yellowed eyes.
she carefully balanced it on her head, a one gallon jerry can used to carry water from the well. she then walked, shaking her hips, and giggling at her over-exaggerated walk. she is 5, and her name is pasha. she’s one of my 15 that i see every day of the week. her little frame, so full of energy. after walking 20 feet or so, she takes the jug off of her head and carries it in her hand, and continues toward the house.
during our tutoring time, we finished by playing “carmen says”--similar to simon (says), but i take the charge! :) they giggle as they mostly look to the older boy in this group, sam who is 8 (the children who are over 10 are still in school, and will be until about 5), to see what they are supposed to do, as they lack confidence in their english skills. i laugh as i tell sam he has a lot of pressure, that if he messes up, they all do, and he laughs too and nods his head. we move from this to the hokey pokey, and begin the process of learning “right” and “left.”
i walk home from the market, with my prized beef sausages (the delight!) and like the pied piper, a line soon forms behind me, one or two will giggle and yell out “hiiiiiiiii auntie carmen!” and upon my turning around, smiling, hand lovingly laying my hand on their shoulders, the others join in, shouting with smiles missing teeth, scarred faces, shaved heads: “auntie carmen!!! hiiii! HOW are youuuuuu?!” they are precious, enunciating words, emphasizing certain other words, and dragging out syllables. i love them. the joy, the joy strikes me everyday day still! in the midst of 5 year olds fetching water from a ground well (a stream that has a pipe in the end of the bluff that pours out the water) several times a day, to the ones playing on trash heaps bigger than they are, and school children on their way home, eager to practice their english, the joy strikes me!
there are solemn faces here, but, they are mainly reserved for the older. the ones charged with caring for the little ones so full of joy. i suppose the solemness comes from the realization that they are unable to provide steady meals, nourishing foods, and education for their children. the hopelessness that they learn to feel. the solemness is on the faces of the women, who laid down with men, thinking those men would stay, and they would be provided for. they of course do not stay, and often leave behind AIDS and a pregnancy. abortions here happen, they are awful. the women desperate, scared, abandoned in childhood by their father, abandoned by the man they laid with who they thought would stay and provide, they go to small shacks for these home-done abortions. many die from this. others are left in constant pain. the ones that do not have abortions are left in a constant pain of another kind: the emotional heaviness that comes from knowing they cannot feed their children. we encourage the young girls, the teenage girls, the women to see them self as a bride of Christ, and find beauty in that, to let Christ love them, and believe that He has reserved something better for them. but, this society, this situation, this desperation tells them otherwise.
she asked me if i was going to die. i sat there for a moment, in her 5 foot by 5 foot house as she laid on the bed to the left of the chair i was sitting in. i looked at her eyes, and she repeated the question, and i said, “of course i am! and it will be the greatest day ever!” she looked at me a bit confused, so much sadness in her eyes. my translator told me she was positive (AIDS) and that she had been so for about 5 years, and was afraid of dying. i searched my heart for the appropriate combination of sympathy and encouragement, and explained to her the words of the apostle paul “absent with the body is present with the Lord” and that if she has Christ in her heart, death from this world is a glorious thing. i explained to her that not even i, a mezungu, am guaranteed anything. i may die that night, i may die in a plane crash, i may die in a car crash when i get home, i may get malaria here and die here, etc. but, that there is no fear in death. i explained how satan seeks to steal, kill and destroy, and that i would pray that she would be comforted knowing that when she passes, she will be welcomed into the most glorious kingdom, and that this life is temporary-for everyone. she nodded her head and smiled slightly. i asked if she had a relationship with Jesus, if she was a christian, and she said she was. i put my hand on her and told her that we would again be reunited as sisters one day, in a place where there is no sickness, hunger, poverty, sadness, etc. she was one of the women who was with a man because she wanted to be provided for, but he left one day, and never came back. she has a child too now, who is NOT positive, but she struggles to feed him, cloth him, care for him. we gave them a gift bag-not much, but, new clothes for him, some medicine, and a toy. i can’t fix it, i can’t make their situation better, but, i can love. i tell myself that-because i suffer in my heart seeing all this suffering and not being able to make it better, completely. but God says: go. be. love. i can speak truth. no one lights a lamp and puts it under a basket. even the smallest flame drives out all darkness around it. i see myself as such a tiny flame--so tiny--itsy bitsy flame; but, i am a flame nonetheless, and i am commanded to shine my little light. it’s so little, but it drives out darkness. as long as i am there/here i will speak truth, i will rebuke, i will speak life. i will love.
i think: there is so much to be done. there are so many hurting. there is so much hunger. lonliness. sickness. i become overwhelmed. then, i redirect my focus to Him. i can’t do it, i can’t fix it. He conquers though. where there is love, there need be no fear. her frail frame appears in my mind as her question echos: “will you die?” and i smile, because i know i will-and i want to take her precious face in my hands and tell her how beautiful she is, that she is His perfect bride, and that when she does, she will meet Him, her bridegroom, who NEVER left her. she will meet Him in front of pearl gates and He will take her into His arms, embrace her and her new healed body, and He will welcome her into His Kingdom.
i want to tell her death is beautiful, but i must tread lightly, my healthy body, my home to go to in the states, then, He tells me that same thing: death is beautiful. my death of desires, hopes, dreams, wants, comforts. there is a beauty that consumes you like a burning flame when you lay it all down. when you say, “i only want you Jesus! Your Kingdom! to serve and love You!” and He calls you to walk that. constant refinement, constant fire, that’s what we feel. in the midst of pain, in the midst of trails, in the midst of realizing that we have totally and completely messed up, we take those broken pieces to Him, and He creates something beautiful. i put my dreams and hopes and desires in beautifully colored bottles, and i sat them on a shelf to look at, gaze at, aspire for, and then, that wall crumbled-it was knocked down, and all those colored bottles of hopes, dreams, desires were shattered. i picked up the pieces and took them to Him, and feel at His feet, and said, “i’m sorry Lord for the thing i have made my life, it is Yours now---You make it as You will” and behold, out of those shattered pieces, a stained-glass window, with an image of love. i cannot describe it, it was an image for me, for us. as i tell her, “death is beautiful” He tells me the same.
one of the twins of the house, martha (sister is mary :) ).
"he who is full loathes honey, but to him who is hungry, even the bitter taste sweet"--proverbs 27:7
i said this as i held my broken brightly colored bottles that once held my hopes, dreams, and desires. even the hard times, even the fire, even the trails, Lord let my hunger for You be so great that they are sweet to me.
also! thanks all those that donated! wow! that was a fast response! :) i'm so very excited to celebrate my birthday on october 29th with my favoritest. i cannot think of any other way i'd rather spend it, than to bless them, and fill their bellies and give them an experience they have yet to have! thank you for being a part of that blessing! <3
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