All fabric frays. Life has a thousand ways to pick loose threads, to stretch and strain and stain and wear down the quilt of our lives.
Today in Bundibugyo: someone we've known for decades with his x-rays limps in asking for help with his joint pain, young people concerned about their mother's deteriorating health ask for money to send her for treatment, a neighbor brings his pregnant wife saying she's hungry and needs to buy sheets, another friend shares good news of kids' school performance but is deeply concerned for a spiritually and mentally troubled wife, another messages about a decades-long friend diagnosed with cancer, another friend looks morose about a son who was hit by a motorcycle, two young brothers arrive to report their house is leaking from the incessant unseasonable rain. All these are people we know who will struggle to sort out next steps because their finances are very limited and the resources available often cause as much harm as good. Meanwhile we have meetings and write up reports and follow up issues that seem important about our legality in Uganda, about teams in our Area and their own needs. All before heading to an end-of-term CSB staff meeting where we celebrate so much good but also hear about a student who threatened to poison another student who reported his rule-breaking behaviour, other conflicts, chronic lack of text books, difficulty with the changing curriculum, latrines filled with garbage as the influx of plastic and cheap manufactured good races ahead of a village-turning-to-city's capacity to manage waste. The unseasonable incessant rain requires new drainage plans. Later another neighbor with a baking business wants to use an oven just as a couple of families we invited for dinner arrive. Her oven broke, and our water intake valve for the school broke today. At least the power stayed on most of the day.
None of the above constitutes a life-altering traumatic rip that shreds the proverbial fabric beyond repair. 'Tis the season of political speeches in America and one governor recounting a season of sorrows concluded "none of that's remarkable, it's life". Some people have capital-T traumas (and we've had some ourselves) where life and death are on the line and before and after are irrevocably separated. But the normal days that make up normal years are like this one, full of wear and tear. A constant series of not-what-we-hoped for griefs for our own hearts and those we love. Frays and tatters in need of mending.
Mending is a small grace. Stitches that are not particularly strong or perfect or artistically remarkable, but serviceable patching to return to the whole.
That's life. We keep inching towards making earth like heaven. This week the New England Journal of Medicine (the most famous medical journal) published a trial done in Niger (189th out of 193 countries listed by human development index). Giving 1-5 year olds a single dose of a common antibiotic, azithromycin (zithromax) twice a year reduces their risk of dying by 14%. It's not easy to survive this continent, and a 14% boost is not a sure thing but a significant help. Vaccines, nutrition, stronger families, stable security, malaria prevention. . . and a twice yearly spoonful of antibiotic syrup. These are the day-to-day mends that make up life. Not glamorous, but essential.
Term 2 ended with no fires or riots or major ripping apart of the school, but lots of frays to analyse and repair
2 comments:
These updates are such a blessing...and mending is a hopeful word.
Thanks. Life indeed is a succession of fraying and mending, fraying and mending.
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