Leaving Thoughts.

So we are on our way out of Lira and I am typing this in the backseat of the truck. Figured it would be easier to type than it would be to write in a journal! So here I am…reflecting on the past week and my heart is aching.

We had a wonderful day yesterday (Friday). Our driver, Jimmy, and the Sponsor Coordinator, Hardson, took us to see the medical clinics in town. The first one, Gift Life Clinic, is the clinic they take the children to, and there is only one doctor and he told us he sees 100 patients per day! Crazy talk huh? It truly has been amazing to hear about the number of children who have lost both their parents to HIV/AIDS. It is rampant, and everyone has been touched by the disease in some way. So many young lives lost, so many children left without parents, siblings.

While we were talking to the doctor, two men brought in a woman who was probably in her early 20s and laid her down on the hospital bed where she remained for the entire duration of our conversation. The room was soo small that there was no room for Jimmy and Hardson to sit, thus I was hyper aware of the sick woman lying on the bed. My heart yearned to reach out to her, but 2 men were literally standing in my way. I yearned to know her story, to hear her cries. I yearned to hold her hand, to pray for her. The conversation continued between us and the doctor while the woman laid there with her eyes closed. She looked so peaceful, yet she was probably in so much pain. I wanted to break down right then and there and cry out to the Lord for this injustice. Instead, I said a quiet prayer to the Lord and briefly placed my hand upon the woman’s as I was walking out the door.

The Gift Clinic was seriously overflowing with people. So many babies were crying, people were sick with malaria, HIV/AIDs and they were so very tired. People were sitting on the ground outside waiting for their turn to come, waiting for a seat to open up inside, waiting for the doctor. Always waiting…It was a sad, sad place, but aren’t hospitals always?

The second place we went to was the clinic the children will soon be going to considering the Gift Life clinic is seriously overcrowded and the children have to wait ages to see the Doctor and some even get more sick just from simply being at the clinic. It truly was like night and day to be honest! According to Hardson, this second clinic was started and supported by white people. There were so many white coats, however, there is only one doctor, and more than 50 nurses. The facility itself is much bigger, thus they can accommodate so many more people.

In the afternoon we went to the Children’s Village for the final time. I was able to see the little 5 year olds…Pasca, Monica, Peter, and Patricia (AKA Grumpity Grump). Oh how I love them…oh how my heart breaks for ALL of them. They are so young. They sang us some beautiful songs, recited bible verses, and danced and laughed with us. Then came a time for Peter and I to share, while someone translated. Peter stayed composed while he shared and said everything I would have said, and then they asked to hear something from me. I couldn’t even bring myself to share and the few words I did share were said between tears and gasps for air. So many little eyes were staring at me while I shared my love for them, while I thanked them for their warm welcome and their love, while I squeezed the beautiful Pasca who was sitting in my lap. And I cried harder. I cried even harder when I saw the tears in Peter’s eyes. I cried for their loss…the loss of their parents, the loss of their innocence, the loss of a childhood, the loss of normalcy. These children have lost their parents due to HIV/AIDS. They have lost their parents due to the LRA and the fighting. They have lost their siblings to HIV/AIDS and abduction. They have lost their innocence due to rape and HIV/AIDS infection. I cried for their joy amidst the loss. I cried for their transformation that has already occurred and will continue to occur. I cried for the Lord’s redeeming work in their lives. My heart ached as the tears streamed down my face, however, my tears were not only tears of sorrow but also tears of thankfulness. It truly has been such a blessing and honor to witness the beautiful hand of God and the beautiful work of Children of the Nations in Uganda, and for that I will be forever grateful.

The Help.

So I finally got around to reading the book The Help by Kathryn Stockett. Now mind you, it has been on the top bookseller list for awhile, months even! I had to wait months to have my turn with it at the library, and I was a little anxious to see what all this hype was about! I knew loads of people that had read the book and they just ranted and raved about it, so I figured it would be a good, light read.

Well let me tell you it takes place in the 1960s, a time I was not alive for. To be honest though, I kind of wish I was. I wonder what type of role I would have played in the Civil Rights Movement, and I hope and PRAY that I would have stood up and stood out against the countless injustices. I get emotional just thinking about it all! So the book, it tells the stories of the African American maids and the white women they worked for in the segregated and volatile town of Jackson, Mississippi.

I must say Kathryn Stockett writes well, and I should give her kudos considering this is her first book. But the topic is delicate, and after reading just a few chapters I had to put it down because I was RAGING. I was RAGING because of the inequality, the separate toilets, the separate parts of town, the separate lives. I was sooo ANGRY at the blatant injustice and the acceptance of it. It was soo wrong, and then I was angry at the people who had read the book and recommended it because they didn't get angry about it. Or if they did, they didn't mention it.

Stockett writes about a moment in our history, a moment that many believe is a thing of the past. However, the reality is those injustices still exist. They may not be as blatant as they were in the past, but they still exist. Ask anyone that isn't white. While reading the book I kept thinking about all the people who had loved and recommended the book, they were all white women, women of privilege, women who may never have experienced injustice in their life. What would non-whites say about the book? Would they recommend it?

Overall, I enjoyed the book, and I can't blame Stockett for getting me so worked up, but I can hope and pray that things will be different. That as we move into the future, hearts and beliefs will be fully and completely transformed and that we see each other through the eyes of Christ.