Today I remembered why I keep going.
There are three little boys at the hospital who need more than the paltry medical care we can offer to have a hope of survival. The oldest is Matte, who at 15 weighs less than the average 5 year old, every bone prominently protruding from his shrinking flesh. We think it is TB, from his chest xray, so we have started therapy. He smiles and says “thank you” in English when I hand him a jar of peanut butter and tell him to eat a spoonful every few hours. The second is Ngonzi Christopher, 8 years old, beads of sweat in an intricate pattern on his straining face as he spasms in the classic rigor of tetanus. When the spasm passes he can answer my questions in Lubwisi, his breathlessness being the chief complaint, tetanus a disease that suffocates a person with their own uncooperative muscles. We are sedating him and supporting him, but after a series of phone calls I have determined there is no tetanus immune globulin in the country, and no ICU that will take him. So only quiet, fluids, prayer and hope remain. The third is Birungi Suizen, age 4 1/2. I posted his picture last week, when his pitiful condition made me weep. Today I wept when his sweet spirit surfaced. He’s been admitted now for a few weeks, against all odds still alive. Like a chameleon, he peeled off his sickly scabby skin and a new layer is emerging from within. For the first time he’s sitting, and I found him eagerly sipping the milk his mother fed him from a spoon. Every day I give him a piece of candy which he grabs, my assurance of his mental alertness. Today I held out my closed fists, and instead of one piece I had enclosed two. He chose the right hand, and I turned over my fist to reveal the two pieces of candy on my palm. Two! He looked at them, and at me. Then he slowly took one in one hand, and took the other and handed it to his mother. I wanted to cry again. This tiny suffering person was ready to share his first bounty, not to horde but to give. He is barely alive, his years of malnutrition and neglect have to have impaired his intelligence, but he understands love.
That’s what keeps me going.
9 comments:
I am blessed and humbled by your posts each day. And, of course, I'm brought to my knees in prayer. Prayers of thanksgiving for your witness, for the compassion of our Lord, and for these precious ones you serve. Thank you.
The first comment says it all...I kneel humbly...bless this precious boy who is far more thoughtful than I.
Reading your posts keep me going on a daily basis as I mourn the loss of my daughter Jessica. Hearing about God's provision in your lives,knowing the sacrifices you make there every day, and now hearing stories of children who have little hope clinging to the tiny bit of hope they do have puts my situation in perspective. God bless you all as you continue to be the hands and feet of Jesus there.
Again as I read, I'm filled with compassion and love for the children, and the tears well in my eyes. How thankful I am that you are doing what I physically can't. I am sure many see Jesus though you. Continued prayers for the team there. May God hold you lovingly in His arms giving you the needed strenght to continue on.. Love and prayers, Carol
Beautiful post, Jennifer. Thanks for giving your life to this work,and thanks for sharing it with us.
Debbie F
wow.
thanks, jennifer.
I check your blog almost daily. I am a friend of the Massos. Jennifer, you are an example of someone who is able to keep a balance between your humanity and the larger spiritual picture. You live a truely humanly life that looks much like Jesus. I appreciate the bridges that you make between the two and how you use your creativity to bless us who read. We get your word pictures and I love the flicker sets. I can't wait to one day meet that artist too.
Karen Schoch
amazing. thank you. may God continue to use you and give you strength.
Is there anything we can do to try to get you guys some supplies? Like tetanus IG?
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