Depending on God

When I arrive at the clinic this morning I walk over to Wisdom’s office. Wisdom has worked at the clinic since it opened. He is the kind of guy who can make the atmosphere instantly calm just by walking into a room. It’s his understanding, non-judgmental, easy-going nature that makes him so perfectly cut out for his job as a counselor for patients who have HIV.

I tell him the story of what happened yesterday when I got home, after talking with him about the current serious problems the clinic is facing and assuring him I would pray.  I tell him how 8-year old Sage showed up at my door, and how we prayed together for the impossible situation. Of how she asked how much money the clinic needed. I told her I wasn’t sure the exact amount, but that it was a lot. Really a lot. “I’m going to do something a little crazy. Be right back,” she announced. She runs next door and comes back a few seconds later with her change purse. She pours out all the coins she has, then carefully adds them up and gives them to me. The amount is a grand total of 370F, not even 1 US dollar. “Give it to the clinic and tell them this is from me,” she says. So matter-of-fact. So undeterred by the huge need.

And who am I to tell her it doesn’t make sense? Jesus fed well over 5,000 people with 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish. So I hand the money to Wisdom in a bright pink envelope and tell him the story. We can’t help smiling, knowing that we have been taught something really special about what it means to trust God with the childlike faith that He so desires. Wisdom says he will share the story with the rest of the staff to encourage them, and that he will tell people at church on Sunday. And from this attitude of faith, the impossible doesn’t seem quite so impossible. Because we are thinking about the God who we are praying to, as we continue to pray for this situation that is just so out of our hands – the God of the impossible. We are relying on Him to provide, so that His work here will continue.

Because this clinic is God’s work. Our church is filled with people who started coming because they were invited when they first came to the clinic for help. The clinic is a place that is known for its caring staff; the warm and inviting way that each person who comes to the clinic's doors is taken care of. It is a place that keeps people from spending all of what little savings they might have on special charms for protection and healing, and resorting to witch doctors for cures and remedies for their sicknesses. We’ve even had witch doctors come to the clinic, which is an amazing testimony by itself! Everyone in need receives help here, and no one is turned away.

What's more, the clinic has such a high success rate of healing and return visits that national programs have asked what this clinic is doing differently. Other clinics started following our clinic’s example of investing in social services, a non-income generating job that exists to help people through issues that medicine can’t solve. Issues like dealing with the social stigma attached to people with HIV, and how to tell their spouse or family that they have the disease. Patients are also told why their ARV medicine is so important to take, even when they start to feel healthy again – something that many other medical facilities here don’t bother to explain. The counselors here teach people that their disease doesn’t define them. Most importantly, they tell patients that they are a person who God loves and who Jesus died for. And patients have come to trust and respect these wonderful people who work in our social services department. This place that is safe and confidential and where they don’t feel judged.

There are even HIV support groups that have developed through the help of the clinic, which meet either at the clinic or at peoples houses. One of my favorite stories I’ve heard was when a group of people from all different people groups gathered for such a support meeting. The rich sat next to the poor; there was young and old, different languages and cultures all mixed together. Among them was a rich Anyi man. Here was a man who had every right in society to look down on those around him. He had a high social status, a deserving and prideful attitude. He stood up from his seat next to a few poor old Dyula women.  And with tears in his eyes, he said something that no one would ever had expected him to say. “It just feels so good to be in a place where everyone is just like me.”

I can only imagine being there to witness that.  One of those moments that just leaves you in awe, thinking, “God...this is Your work...wow.”

And now, the clinic is in danger of having to stop HIV care.

The situation is something like this. The clinic is in a partnership with another organization that provides funding for the clinic’s activities. A short while back, after agreeing on a budget and signing the contract, the organization cut the amount. By a lot. People would have to work without pay to make ends meet, in order to continue seeing patients and investing in HIV care. And they have. But if this wasn’t hard enough, they were recently told that this amount (which wasn’t even enough to make it until this October) now had to be enough to make it until March of next year. Basically meaning that the clinic would have to run with no funding for 6 months. Basically meaning that the situation is impossible.

For us, that is. Which is why I am asking for prayer. Because nothing is impossible for God. I believe that He hears our prayers. I believe that He knows our problems. I believe that He cares. Even in the past few months alone, I have seen God answer prayers in situations where I have no idea what to do and so I just pray. I have experienced Him providing in amazing ways. I know He is able.

And really, this situation is an opportunity - to depend fully on God for the clinic’s needs. It’s one thing to say that we trust God to provide our needs while relying on other people. I know I am guilty of it. Sometimes I think it can even happen without intending to rely on someone or something other than God. But the situation now is simple. We need a miracle. We need God's gracious help. We have no options but Him. Please pray with us that God will come through in this situation like only He can!

"Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen."
 – Ephesians 3:20-21

A Morning at the Market

There’s a little boy I know named Diallo who only has one pair of faded, worn out clothes. So early one Saturday morning I head to the part of the market when I have seen people selling clothing. Because it is still early, the clothes are not laid out on tarps yet.  There are just a few bundles of clothes strapped tightly together. As the first one is cut open and poured out, women are literally on the ground scrambling and pushing and shoving to have first pick.

For the children’s clothes, the woman selling them sits on little stool and piece by piece looks at each item before tossing it onto 1 of 4 piles, by size of the clothing. I join a few other women sitting around watching, going over to a pile when we see something we want. One woman takes it upon herself to help me decide on some good picks. “Ici, c’est joli,” she says smiling, smoothing out a little pink undershirt with flowers. I say thank you but tell her that I’m looking for a boy about 6 months old.  

“Ah, oui! Un garçon,” she repeats, although half of the things she continues to pick up to show me are still pink or have ribbons.

As more clothes are thrown onto the piles, a woman with a shawl wrapped around her face picks up a baby bib with a big pocket at the bottom. I try not to laugh as she holds it up to her friend with a questioning look, who responds with a face that shows she is obviously just as confused.

After a few seconds of leaving them in suspense, I attempt to explain the real purpose of this mysterious item of clothing. “C’est pour quand un bebe mange,” I say, “Si il renverse…" I trail off and demonstrate that the pocket can catch the food. Translation: It is for when a baby eats. If he to spill…” (So not perfect French grammar, but they got the message).“Ahh,” both women say in unison, nodding, and their confused looks are replaced with ones that give the message of, “Well, that’s strange.” Shrugging, the woman holding the bib pats it and places it back down on the pile. 

It’s moments like these that I feel like God is letting me in on something really special.

These opportunities to reach across a cultural bridge and connect with people from the most different of backgrounds, even if it’s in a really simple way. To step out and choose to see past myself and my own little world and learn something new. God is opening my eyes to see that everyone has a story, and that it’s always worth it to take the time to reach out to other people and to know theirs.

A few days later me and 2 friends that I work with at the clinic, Grandmama and Marceline, hop in the car that belongs to the mission to go visit Diallo and His elderly grandma.  Diallo's mother died a few months after he was born, most likely due to complications of AIDS.  With the father not in the picture either, this grandma is the only family left to care for both Diallo and his 2 sisters.

There is no one at their home when we arrive, but it's probably a good sign that on this day she has been able to find work washing someone's laundry. Just as we are turning to leave, "Tantiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!" Auntie! Three little kids are running towards me, even as I try to tell them to slow down. The only reason for this being that the oldest girl, who I'm guessing is around 6 years old, has baby Diallo tied to her back with a faded pagne, the colorful fabric that everyone makes their clothes out of here. As she runs his little head is bouncing up and down behind her small shoulders.

I hug the kids and hold their hands as we walk back to their house.  We give them eggs that someone at the clinic gave to us to give to anyone in need. And in a wrapped plastic bag I place a few new clean clothes for Diallo on top. When we walk back to the car we give the kids some little bags of "Chipsy" that I keep in the trunk of the car for whenever we go on family visits. ("Chipsy" is the brand name of a snack company here that makes things like chips, popcorn and peanuts). It's amazing how happy these kids get at the sight of a little bag of popcorn, and I love how this small gift can make their day. I see the kids waving in the rearview mirror as we drive away.

It's special moments like these, just like the morning at the market, that are tying my heart to the people in this country.  Visiting with the ones who are going through some hard times, bringing food to people really in need, the joy of knowing that you can do something to make some little kids' faces light up with excitement. 

I’m learning that every day, God is inviting us on an adventure, if only we will step across the lines we’ve created for ourselves and allow Him to take us on it. He is able to open our blind eyes to see the opportunities he gives us every day, to love the people around us who are Jesus in disguise.

I can guarantee this truth: Whatever you did for one of my brothers or sisters, no matter how unimportant they seemed, you did for me. -Jesus

Healing love

 

 

Meet Aisha and Affousata.  They are 1 year and a few months old. Their mom, Ramatou, brought them to the clinic a little more than a month ago.  One of them was very sick, and both of them were very malnourished.  

I remember when we visited them at home for the first time and seeing the girls sitting naked in the dirt.  As their young mom held a bag of soupy white porridge, one of the girls stood on her stick-like legs crying and reaching for it while leaning against her mother’s lap, legs that couldn't support even her thin body frame.

Ramatou is a student and won't be able to start working for another 2 months. After school loans she is already in debt and must rely on the rest of her extended family for money and food. While she’s away at school, it’s hard to know what the girls are being fed, although from the looks of them it’s definitely not very much. It's possible that the other aunties in the courtyard don’t make feeding them a priority because the twins aren’t their kids and they’re just two more mouths to feed anyway. 

This culture breeds the survival mindset, meaning that until the age when children can do anything useful they are often only another burden in a life that is already too hard. If a small child dies it is common for the mother to be told to stop crying, after all, it was only a baby. Here, the ones who suffer most from the effects of poverty are the kids. They are the ones who are innocent and helpless and who can do nothing about it.

They’re also the ones that God cares deeply about. The ones He asks us to take care of. In Proverbs 31:8, He reminds me of His heart for these little ones:

"Open your mouth for those who cannot speak, and for the rights of those who are left without help"

A little baby who died not too long ago because of careless neglect and issues that grown-ups couldn’t work out is still so clear in my mind. As is the resulting promise that I never ever wanted to wonder again if there was anything more I could have done to prevent a precious life from slipping away. One who was created in the image of God and who deserves a chance at life and a future.

We start to see the twins at the clinic regularly.  Whenever Ramatou brings them all the people on the staff know these little girls and come to ask how they are doing.  I am in all my glory getting to regularly make them bags of a super-nutritious concoction of peanut paste, dried milk, sugar, oil, and Moringa powder.

 

We also visit their family at home often to see how they are doing.  One Sunday Ramatou came to church with us in the little building where we meet right next to the clinic.  Somewhere in the middle of all this I think she started to realize that we really cared about her and her family.

Because it seemed like all of a sudden, something just changed. The twins came to the clinic one day with clean clothes and little hats covering their heads.  They were even wearing thin shoes on their tiny feet.  Ramatou said that Affousata had started to stand and even take a few steps on her own. As she tells us about these things, it seems like there is new life and hope in her voice and in her eyes.

We continue to visit them, and I notice that there is suddenly enough food to feed the twins and that now they are now always washed and wearing clean clothes. The girls’ previously overextended bellies are getting smaller while their arms and legs and beautiful little faces are getting fuller. 
  
I guess I can’t say for sure what changed, what made the difference for the better.  But I think that when you believe that someone really cares about you, it changes you.  You start to think that maybe you matter. Maybe there is hope. Maybe you are worth it. Maybe the lie you have believed for so long, that your life doesn't make a difference, isn't true. 

It is by our love that people will come to know that this hope is real and lasts forever because of Jesus. Jesus said that as we have been loved, we must love each other. That people would know His followers by the way that they love.

Because how can anyone even begin to grasp the truth that God cares about them if they have never experienced what love looks like in their life? This is what Jesus is all about, the hope He brings. That you are worth it. You are worth dying for. There is a God that wants you, who says I love you and you are mine. There is hope and joy unspeakable in knowing Jesus, in learning that you are a child of the King. There is no better news, no higher hope, no truer love. It changes lives and changes everything, for the better.