Diamonds in the Rough

Recently, i began visiting two very special children.  Satrine is one and a half years old.  He and his mother were one of many victims of a cruel, senseless act of violence committed against their church in Mombasa, Kenya.  Many folks were sitting in church on a Sunday listening to a sermon.  Out of the blue, a large group suddenly ambushed the church and began spraying the sanctuary with bullets.  In the panic, Satrine's mother attempted to shield her son from the rapid fire.  In the melee, she was shot in the chest and died immediately.  In an unbelievably horrendous twist of fate, the very bullet that took his mother's life then became lodged in this beautiful little boy's head.  His 13 year old brother took him to the hospital, where, shortly thereafter, he was transferred to Kenyatta Hospital.  Unbeknownst to this miraculous little boy, he has now become a symbol of hope and prosperity in a country wrack with violence and hate.  His picture and story have been featured in print and television media all across the country.  Everyone knows him and everyone has been sending him prayers.  He overcame so many obstacles, including losing his loving mother, receiving an incredibly grievous head and brain injury, being abruptly uprooted from the only place he's ever known, major brain surgery, and the subsequent physical and psychological healing process he's dealing with as he now faces a life without his mother.  Despite all of this, at the end of the day he's still a little boy.  He's got a gorgeous smile that just doesn't quit.  He loves to laugh and to eat.  He loves to hide from visitors as they enter the room in an attempt to jump out and scare them.  He loves cartoons and playing with children.  I brought him some markers and paper, and he drew me a picture.  I took it home with me, and it now resides in a prominent place on my office desk, where I can always see it.  Not because it was created by a now famous (albeit not in a good way) little boy.  Whenever I look at it, it reminds me that, even when life seems so difficult it can be absolutely unbearable, there is always, always an opportunity for gladness.  Even in the midst of unspeakable tragedy and despair, there is always an opportunity to smile, to laugh, to enjoy.  It may be like finding a diamond in the rough of a darkened cave, but don't give up.  Keep looking, and you'll find it
The second child I began visiting a couple of weeks ago is Winnie.  No one is really sure how old Winnie is...she's been aged somewhere between five and nine years old.  Winnie's entire family, from grandparents and parents, to siblings and cousins, were ravaged by AIDS and subsequently all have succumbed to the disease.  One of the complications Winnie is facing is a form of tuberculosis that is multiple drug resistant.  I found Winnie by a story in the newspaper in which she was featured.  When the story ran, she had been there for several months.  Apparently, no one had visited her in quite some time, and the newspaper was trying to get visitors and donations for her.  When I visited Winnie for the first time, I was shocked.  I was first shocked by her appearance.  At age five, Winnie weighed less than one and half year old Satrine.  I can make an O shape with my thumb and forefinger and place it around her forearm, with plenty of room to spare.   I was them shocked by all of the donations that had appeared in her room the past week.  There were books, clothes, toys, and even a radio.  Several people had responded to the article and sent her donations.  However, although their gestures were generous and kind and she did indeed enjoy all of her new gifts, no one was giving her what she really needed: human interaction.  I first noticed this when I was getting ready to leave after my first visit.  During that visit I allowed her to experience things she probably hadn't experienced in a long time.  I held her, I hugged her, I sang to her, I played with her, I prayed with her, and I drew with her.   As I was preparing to leave, she became very withdrawn.  She refused to look at me, and refused to allow me to touch her.  Tears filled her eyes.  It broke my heart.  Not just because it was difficult leaving her.  But because this beautiful little girl had been starved of human interaction for so long that she reacted so strongly when I left.  Gradually, as she is beginning to realize more and more that when I leave, I do return to see her, the goodbyes have been getting less difficult.
It got me to thinking how much folks cling to things that, in the long run, don't matter at all.  I know I do that frequently.  I justify my need for material things by using them as coping strategies for living in a third world country, but it's just a lame excuse for using material things to fulfill my needs, rather than using what counts.  God.  Prayer.  Family.  Friends.  Fellowship.  Reaching out to others.  No material possession I have ever owned held a candle to the healing properties I've experienced in reaching out to others and for others.  There is so much more healing to be found in reaching for God instead of a donut.  It was no accident God made humans to be social creatures.  We are never, ever alone, unless we choose to be.  Material possessions will come and go.  In the end, whatever possessions we accumulate here on earth won't follow us to heaven.  Winnie taught me that, no matter how much we try to placate ourselves with material possessions, at the end of the day,  it's the people, not possessions with which you share your life. All that really matters is love and fellowship.

Through the Eyes of a Child

For people looking from the outside into the world of hospice chaplaincy for children, it would seem as though we had a rough day today.  A nine year old girl I had spent quite a bit of time with passed away today.  It's hard to describe the experience as a whole, but I'm going to do the best I can here.  To understand my point of view, you have to first understand where these children have been, as opposed to where they are going.  Through the grace of God, I do the best I can to walk along these children, their families, and their caregivers, comfort them, console them, and bring them whatever amount of happiness I can during the absolute worst times of their lives.  The pain and fear these children face on a daily basis continues to amaze me.  They face procedures grown adults would not be able to get through, screaming and crying all the way, but they get through them.  They endure countless surgeries, endless side effects, and medications that make them unbelievably sick.  More often than not, their parents stay in the waiting room, crying, knowing their children are suffering, but they can't bring themselves to comfort their children because they can't bear to see their babies in pain.  It is a daily struggle for all concerned, ending only when the Lord decides to call his beautiful little servant home.

So, this is what the child is leaving behind.  If I am sad when a child dies, it's only for myself.  I grow to love each and every one of these children as if they were my own, and every time one of them dies, a small piece of my heart that belonged to that child dies right along with them.  I can't adequately describe the experience of watching a child when he is having his first look at Heaven with his own eyes.  There is a look of amazement and peace, unlike he has ever experienced on earth.  And yes, I am grateful for that.  I'm grateful God's faithful little servant is finally finding peace beyond anything he could have imagined.  I'm grateful to be able to see the children in peace and contentment, instead of in fear and in agonizing pain.  I am grateful he is out of pain, and I'm grateful he doesn't have to be afraid anymore.  And I'm grateful knowing, time and time again, that there is a beautiful and glorious place called Heaven; knowing that, whatever I experience here on earth, will eventually melt away and I will be renewed in His love mercy and grace in a place so beautiful and peaceful I can't even begin to comprehend the extent of it.

Perspective

A few nights ago, I experienced one of the worst stomach aches I've ever had in my life.  I couldn't even stand or really walk without assistance.  Fortunately for me, my ever faithful house manager, Violet, was there to help me to the nearby hospital, where I was diagnosed with malaria and typhoid.  For a short period of time I was left alone, because Violet had to go back to the house to get some money.  During that time I was scared, alone, and in a lot of pain, with nothing to do but look at the ceiling.  Even during this time, my thoughts turned to my patients.  I realized this is what they must be feeling on a daily basis.  It was humbling.  As of late, ?I've been way too wrapped up in my own issues and difficulties.  Sometimes, when I'm in the thick of selfishness and self centerness, the Lord allows me to go through potentially dangerous situations far enough to get me humble, but not so far that I would experience the worst possible outcome of said dangerous situation.  I'm praying that one of these days

Wear the Yellow Tee Shirt

So, I have this yellow tee shirt in my closet.  I love it.  It's a little baggy, has some pretty funky designs...just my style.  But...I hardly ever wear it.  Why, you may ask?  I'll tell you...I'm a klutz and am afraid of spilling something on it.  A few weeks ago, I wore the tee shirt, and, lo and behold, I spilled something on it.  But here's the clincher...I washed it, and it became clean!

It made me think of how many times we miss out on incredible things because of what "might" happen.  I know, for me, nine times out of ten what I worry about never happens.  I can honestly say I didn't have any reservations or worries about giving up everything I own and moving to Africa.  Other people did, of course, but I was ready to go.  Now, if I had known then what I know now, things may have been a little different.  But, I thank God for my nativity.  At the end of the day, I love living here.  This is my corner of the world, and where I'm supposed to be.  If I had let the fear of others rule my life and my decisions, I might not have ever come (although God does have a way of making sure His plans are carried out, regardless of circumstance).  When I think of how much I would have missed out on if I had stayed in the states, it makes me shudder.  I would have missed out on learning some of the most important and meaningful lessons of my entire life.  I would have missed knowing some of my most closest friend whom I consider to my my second family.  I would have missed the indescribable experience of growing in God's love, mercy and grace, and sharing His love with others.  I dare say I would have missed the opportunity to find myself, and my place in the world.  Of course, bad things have happened to me.  But, at the end of the day, it doesn't matter.  The experiences I have had and am having every day easily trump any sort of hassles or troubles I might have to deal with.  I wouldn't do anything differently.  Don't be afraid to wear the yellow tee shirt.  Whatever happens, it's worse not to try.

Realities of Satan

"Satan was sitting in my living room!"  Sounds like a tabloid headline, huh?  I know, to some of you, what I'm about to say might sound a little crazy.  That's OK-I'm willing to be labeled a nut if it will get my story out there and help at least one other person.

I'm here to tell you, satan is real, and yes, he indeed was sitting in my living room.  Sometimes, my head moves forward before my heart.  A lot of the time that can be a good thing.  But sometimes, it can get me in a lot of trouble.  I met a woman last week, in a support group we both attended.  She chased me down after the meeting, and told me she was homeless and needed a place to stay.  In my heart, I felt I needed to pray about it.  But, my head won out over my heart, and sh came to stay with me that evening.

Almost immediately, two of my dogs became violently ill, and I had a bad headache.  I still hadn't equated it having anything to do with my visitor.  The longer she stayed, the worse things became.  First Samson got sick, then Boss.  The headaches were getting worse and worse.  I needed help.  So I did what I do best- I prayed and asked the Lord for guidance..  I found information online about a drug rehabilitation close to my home, and left to go look for it.  I spent about forty five minutes on the back side of a motor bike, going up and down the road, looking.  Finally, we stopped on the side of the road, and asked someone where it was.  He didn't know, but a man that was walking to work overheard our conversation, and told us it had been shut down.  He then told me that he and his wife operated a rehab, and asked me to join him to check it out.  

So, we went and chatted for a bit.  I found out his name was Benji.  I liked Benji right away.  He was easy to talk to.  He was kind.  He was real.  He spoke the truth, and was non-judgmental.  We ended up just sitting and talking for almost an hour.  He allowed me to freely talk about the cultural stress I had been experiencing, and I was very appreciative of that.

Eventually, we ended up back at the house to talk to my visitor.  During this conversation, a whole different side of her came out.  She was vulnerable.  She was crying.  She revealed some very difficult things she went through in her past.  She told us no one had ever trusted her or given her anything before.  I believed her.  Benji believed her.  We really wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, just as we had been given a long time ago.  After the meeting, we arranged home visits and I walked Benji to the stage.

She was a different person when I came home.  She very suddenly became non compliant with the treatment plan.  She was tearing down Benji, and she was tearing down me.  She looked me in the eye and told me I wasn't qualified for what I was doing.  She tried desperately to confuse me.  She twisted my words.  And she pointed out every single thing she thought was wrong with me.  She tried to convince me that only she had authority and she knew what she was talking about.  It was like I was in a trance.  I literally had to say to her I was no longer participating in the conversation, and I had to leave.  I received guidance from a loving and trusted friend, and I asked her to leave.  As we were walking down the road, she kept trying to confuse me.  She kept trying to go back because she claimed she forgot something.  In the mean time, i felt like I had the armor of God protecting me as none of what she was trying to do had any effect.  I could see the frustration in her eyes and on her face as she was realizing what she was trying to do was not working anymore.  I don't think Benji knows how much he helped me today.

Things immediately changed for the better now that she's gone.  My headaches are gone.  The dogs are as good as new.  Even Annabelle the goat is giving milk again.  It seems calm and serene in the house once again, and that's the way it should be.  After she left, i learned from my house manager than another woman who was visiting this week had only spent a few minutes with this woman, and she knew there was something evil about her.  I learned that this woman had screamed at my house girl, threatened to beat her, and threatened to hurt her if she told me.  And I'm sure there are things I still don't know about.  I'm going to have to rethink my strategy for admitting women to Sophie's Place.  I'm going to be needing people who have gone before me to advise me and guide me.  And I definitely still need people praying for me.  Without a doubt it was  very scary experience.  But I'm choosing to focus on the fact that, for satan to actually come into my home, I must be doing something very right.  I have to be going on the right path.  I learned today that God's grace, mercy and love is all I need to face my fears, and move forward in His plan for me to share His love, mercy and grace.

The Realities of Satan

"Satan was sitting in my living room!"  Sounds like a tabloid headline, huh?  I know, to some of you, what I'm about to say might sound a little crazy.  That's OK-I'm willing to be labeled a nut if it will get my story out there and help at least one other person.

I'm here to tell you, satan is real, and yes, he indeed was sitting in my living room.  Sometimes, my head moves forward before my heart.  A lot of the time that can be a good thing.  But sometimes, it can get me in a lot of trouble.  I met a woman last week, in a support group we both attended.  She chased me down after the meeting, and told me she was homeless and needed a place to stay.  In my heart, I felt I needed to pray about it.  But, my head won out over my heart, and sh came to stay with me that evening.

Almost immediately, two of my dogs became violently ill, and I had a bad headache.  I still hadn't equated it having anything to do with my visitor.  The longer she stayed, the worse things became.  First Samson got sick, then Boss.  The headaches were getting worse and worse.  I needed help.  So I did what I do best- I prayed and asked the Lord for guidance..  I found information online about a drug rehabilitation close to my home, and left to go look for it.  I spent about forty five minutes on the back side of a motor bike, going up and down the road, looking.  Finally, we stopped on the side of the road, and asked someone where it was.  He didn't know, but a man that was walking to work overheard our conversation, and told us it had been shut down.  He then told me that he and his wife operated a rehab, and asked me to join him to check it out.  

So, we went and chatted for a bit.  I found out his name was Benji.  I liked Benji right away.  He was easy to talk to.  He was kind.  He was real.  He spoke the truth, and was non-judgmental.  We ended up just sitting and talking for almost an hour.  He allowed me to freely talk about the cultural stress I had been experiencing, and I was very appreciative of that.

Eventually, we ended up back at the house to talk to my visitor.  During this conversation, a whole different side of her came out.  She was vulnerable.  She was crying.  She revealed some very difficult things she went through in her past.  She told us no one had ever trusted her or given her anything before.  I believed her.  Benji believed her.  We really wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, just as we had been given a long time ago.  After the meeting, we arranged home visits and I walked Benji to the stage.

She was a different person when I came home.  She very suddenly became non compliant with the treatment plan.  She was tearing down Benji, and she was tearing down me.  She looked me in the eye and told me I wasn't qualified for what I was doing.  She tried desperately to confuse me.  She twisted my words.  And she pointed out every single thing she thought was wrong with me.  She tried to convince me that only she had authority and she knew what she was talking about.  It was like I was in a trance.  I literally had to say to her I was no longer participating in the conversation, and I had to leave.  I received guidance from a loving and trusted friend, and I asked her to leave.  As we were walking down the road, she kept trying to confuse me.  She kept trying to go back because she claimed she forgot something.  In the mean time, i felt like I had the armor of God protecting me as none of what she was trying to do had any effect.  I could see the frustration in her eyes and on her face as she was realizing what she was trying to do was not working anymore.  I don't think Benji knows how much he helped me today.

Things immediately changed for the better now that she's gone.  My headaches are gone.  The dogs are as good as new.  Even Annabelle the goat is giving milk again.  It seems calm and serene in the house once again, and that's the way it should be.  After she left, i learned from my house manager than another woman who was visiting this week had only spent a few minutes with this woman, and she knew there was something evil about her.  I learned that this woman had screamed at my house girl, threatened to beat her, and threatened to hurt her if she told me.  And I'm sure there are things I still don't know about.  I'm going to have to rethink my strategy for admitting women to Sophie's Place.  I'm going to be needing people who have gone before me to advise me and guide me.  And I definitely still need people praying for me.  Without a doubt it was  very scary experience.  But I'm choosing to focus on the fact that, for satan to actually come into my home, I must be doing something very right.  I have to be going on the right path.  I learned today that God's grace, mercy and love is all I need to face my fears, and move forward in His plan for me to share His love, mercy and grace.

The Various Facets of Starvation

As much as I can figure, there are two facets of starvation.  The first facet, physical, we are all familiar with.  All we need to do is walk down the street, and we see several poignant examples of physical starvation in one city block.  The second facet of starvation is not so obvious.  It is one that is dangerously ignored with far too much frequency.  I'm talking about spiritual and psychological starvation.  Just because the belly is full, doesn't mean the same can be said for the heart and the soul.  How many times have you carelessly dropped a coin or two into a cup without actually getting down on the ground with the cup holder to pray for him or her?  How many times have you offered and unkind or harsh word for someone who hurt you, instead of prayer?  How many times have you clung onto past hurts, only to replay and act out those hurt feelings on other innocent people?

I'll be the first to admit, I have fell into this trap more times than I can count.  Very recently, someone I trusted hurt me very deeply.  Her behavior made me very angry, and bitter.  I wanted to hurt her, at least just as much if not more, than she hurt me.  There were many opportunities for me to do so, and I was chomping at the bit to just partake in one of them.  I'm here to say, I'm still struggling with this bitterness, and I'm still struggling with feelings of wanting to hurt her.  This bitterness and anger has been coming out sideways, onto innocent people who had absolutely no idea of my past hurts.  I'm living the greatest adventure of my life living in Africa.  But, it's also the hardest place I've ever lived.  I envy people who say its a breeze and don't seem to see or experience the issues I face.  Sometimes, I find myself starving for understanding, when all I can really do is accept the situation.  I find myself starving for acceptance of my behavior, and I have to accept that I am surrounded by people who can't sympathize or empathize with me because they have been behaving differently all of their lives.  I still have a difficult time wrapping my brain around the fact that scores of children are dying from common childhood illnesses that are easily cured in the US, because they are being denied medication simply because their parents can't afford it.  It's hard.  But, the beauty of the situation is this:  when I am spiritually and/or psychologically starving, when I feel lost, when I feel broken, I can turn it over to God.  No matter what I've said, done thought or felt, when I turn to Him, I am welcomed with open arms at His bountiful table, and I am filled up with His love, His mercy, and His grace.  Unlike the physical starvation that can never really be quelled, the cessation of spiritual starvation is immediate.  So, ladies and gentlemen may I have your attention please: STOP focusing solely on the physical starvation.  Focus instead on filling yourself up with the Holy Spirit.  Rely on Him for your daily recommended intake of doses of spirituality.  Don't just put coins in the cup.  Tell the person God loves them.  Don't turn away from your enemy with a bitter heart, and don't spoke to him or her with a harsh tongue.  Tell him you will pray for him.  Tell the people you're helping about God, what He has done for You, and what He can do for others.  If given the choice, I would rather be physically than spiritually starving.  Keep yourself spiritually satisfied in food of the Holy Spirit, and share Him with others.  Unlike earthly food, there is always more than enough spiritual food to share, and everyone who receives it comes away satisfied and full.