Wednesday, July 18, 2012

A South African Story.

I don't remember the city I was in, the name of the hospital, or even what the hospital looked like from the outside. Here is what I do remember. Babies laying in their beds and when I went to pick one of them up they were soaked in their own urine. No one to tend them, no mama's to fuss over them. I went to the nurse and got new sheets and clothes and warm water and bathed them and cleaned them. I snuggled and read to them. My heart was broken, but then -but then - we went into the next room. These little children laying on cots. A breeze blew in the windows and their frail little selves barley stirred. When I sat down next to one of the little girls she moaned. Blood was dripping from her IV's. She had been abused. She had AIDS. She was dying alone. There I sat wondering what on earth I could do here. Just sitting next to her caused her pain. She didn't want to be touched. So I just sat, and cried and prayed. 
These stores - these little lives - they touched my heart in a way I can't describe. They changed me. When I change my babies sheets I remember the blood stained sheets of the little girl in South Africa and think of how I can help my babies to see the worlds outside their windows more clearly. I think it's done bit by bit and day by day in both big ways and small.. but it begins with their mama remembering.  
I read this post today and one thing she said really stuck with me: We’re either responding with indifference or with intercession, either with apathy or aid.
I'm praying I remember what I have seen, that I am aware of what is going on the world today, and that I am willing to be used in big and small ways to make a difference. Pray? Yes. Give? Yes. Encourage others to do the same? Absolutely.