Tuesday, December 2, 2014


Seems I think to myself "why?" a lot.  Why did I grow up in the US and have a good family, a nice home, and my needs were taken care of? Why did I never have to worry about where my next meal was coming from?  You get the picture.  Yesterday I went to Ng'ombe compound to give a BGR bucket to a woman.  Before we even went, one of the caregivers told me that it was really bad.  I assumed that meant that the patient was really bad off because I have seen some pretty bad things before.  As we entered the small two room house the smell of urine overtook our nostrils.  We stood in the doorway for a couple of minutes for our eyes to adjust to the darkness.  A man fumbled around to find a small stub of a candle to light so we could see.  Then we slowly walked into the next room where the patient, Amai Ngoma, lay on the dirt floor in her own urine.  As I sat on the small bench my mind raced with questions.  Why had she had a stroke?  How long had she been living like this? Why did this family not take better care of this woman? Why did she not have any food?  Why did they not clean her up?  Why was this huge crack in the mud wall?  What would happen to this woman after a big rain and the house falls down?  The caregivers I went with said for me to talk fast. Amai Ngoma sat up with help.  I then quickly introduced ourselves and showed her the things in the bucket.  She kept leaning to the side like she was going to fall over so we had her lie down.  Then they asked me to pray for her.  As I knelt beside her and held her hand, I prayed for Amai Ngoma.  She squeezed my hand when I finished and said, "thank you."  As we were leaving I knew in my heart I couldn't go back to my comfortable home and bed that night without doing something else to help this woman.  So we went and bought enough food for a few days, some washing powder, some charcoal, and two meters of a mat so she wouldn't be lying in the dirt.  It will also be easier for them to clean.  We turned around and went back to the home.  Her caregiver was still there and she began smiling so big when she saw us holding all this stuff.  She immediately started preparing the charcoal so she could fix some food for Amai Ngoma.  When we left the second time I felt better knowing that she would at least go to bed that night with a full stomach and a more comfortable place to sleep.  I still cried when I got home. I still had trouble sleeping.  When I awoke this morning my first thoughts were of this woman. I also thought of the thousands of others in this compound who were probably in similar situations.  Can I make a difference in the lives of everyone in this compound?  No, it is impossible.  All I can do is be obedient to what God tells me to do one family at a time. Because the caregivers were rushing me I was not able to share Christ with this woman.  Pray that I will have the opportunity to go back and share the gospel with her. Pray for her to come to know Christ if she doesn't already.  Pray that her family would take better care of her.  Pray that I will not complain so much and be more thankful for all that God has blessed me with.

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