Hope for the hopeless

Frank, Eddie, Angel on the potty

There are kids at GSF that most people would say have no hope.  There’s Eddie and his sister Ziatune (otherwise known as “Little Tuna”).  Their lives were threatened and brought to GSF.  Charlie, just under 2 years old, came to us weighing 11 lbs.  He was neglected, being left alone all day with no one to feed or care for him.  There are Joanne and Angel.  Joanne at 4 years took care of her mother, who was dying of AIDS, as well as her baby sister Angel.  There’s Nicholas (3 yrs) and Frank (1 ½ yrs).  Frank fought for life during his first month at GSF.  He was incredibly malnourished.  When Nicholas arrived at GSF he said, “Frank and me, we suffered.”  

Seb's first day at GSF

 Sebastian just came last week.  He’s 1 ½ and 0-3 month clothing is baggy on him.  He’s not a new face at GSF.  He has been on the GSF feeding program for a year with little to no improvement.  Come to find out the food the family received was sold for alcohol.  Both the mother and grandma are drunkards.  Sebastian has wounds on his head from times his drunken grandma fell and he was on her back.  When we took him in last week he was miserable - confused and disoriented.  He had a fever of 106 F and was positive for malaria.  That night I slept in his home with him.  He would stir and moan in his sleep, wave his arms until he touched me and knew someone was by his side.  We also came to learn Sebastian has a bilateral cleft palate and may have other physical abnormalities (diagnostics are slow or non-existent).  I took him to Kampala to

Starting Seb on his meds with help from Matthew

 meet with a surgeon to see if he could repair the palate.  Thankfully, the surgeon agreed. Unfortunately, we’ll have to wait until his hemoglobin increases and he puts on more weight.

Joanne carrying Gayla

I could go on with stories such as these.  My heart aches at the baggage these kids have at such a young age.  I’ve taken psychology and mental health to know these kids will have issues, issues that are already manifesting.  Sleeping difficulties, fear at night, bed wetting…  The odds are against children like these.

Tuna having fun with G-nut sauce

This is something God continues to convict me of - my unbelief of his saving grace and healing power.  The Psalms have been incredibly helpful in understanding God’s heart toward those who’ve suffered.  Psalm 72:12-14 says, “For he delivers the needy when he calls, the poor and him who has no helper.  He was pity on the weak and the needy, and saves the lives of the needy.  From oppression and violence he redeems their life, and precious is their blood in his sight.” God also continues to lead me to Psalm 103:2-6 as well.  It says, “Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits, who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy, who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.  The Lord works righteousness and justice for all who are oppressed.” 

A much different looking Charlie

Seb one week later

I pray these verses over the children here.  If I look at statistics, there’s really no hope.  Thankfully, God does not work in the confines of a textbook or research paper.  He works in mysterious ways unknown to man.  I praise God for being a God who cares for the sick, lowly, and lame.  He not only cares for them, but promises healing and redemption.  No amount of possessions, no amount of human love, and no amount of therapy will ever heal these children from their wounds.  It is purely the work of God.  The best thing I can do for the kids is come humbly before the Lord, pray that their hearts will be turned toward Christ and trust he will work all things for their good.  While this seems like a simple supplication to a perplexing problem, Christ is their best hope.

He knows my name

The past week was crazy.  It seemed like everyone at the GSF school and orphanage was sick.  We had 20 kids with malaria, copious cuts, burns, and jiggers (fleas that bury an egg sac in your feet), kids with coughs, sore throats, runny noses and red eyes.  One boy had a prolapsed rectum and one of our girls was diagnosed with Brucellosis.   Then we got a new kid Monday, Sebastian.  He came to us very sick and we found out he has a bilateral cleft palate that will need to be repaired (more about him later).  Aside from nursing stuff, a high school team from Florida arrived Saturday, our water pump broke so no running water, and lake flies COVERED the inside of my house.  Seriously, I think it was probably very similar to what the Egyptians faced when God sent the plague of gnats.  All this to say, life at GSF is bustling. 

     In times like these I forget their stories, their background, their wounds.  I look at them in the present.  I see what needs to get done right now.  Who do I treat, who do I meet and who do I beat…kidding, I leave the spanking to the directorsJ. 

      Sunday finally came.  About 30 of the ex GSF kids (called big brothers and sisters) came to visit and lead worship.  Church was full.  It was awesome catching up with the ones I knew and meeting others for the first time.  About half of them got on stage to lead praise and worship (it’s different here).  The praise portion was lively, with everyone singing loudly, dancing, and clapping their hands.  We then moved to a time of worship where slower songs are sung.  They began singing the song “He Knows My Name”.  My heart instantly broke.  Here, in front of me, behind me, beside me where kids whose fathers died, kids whose fathers left them, kids whose father harmed them.  Their stories, backgrounds, and wounds came to light.  I watched their faces, their expressions.  I listened to them sing, “I have a father, He calls me his own.  He’ll never leave me, no matter where I go.”  My eyes welled up and tears streamed down my face.  I have always loved this song, but never have I believed the words I was singing as much as I did today.  The kids and big brothers and sisters cried out to the only father they have; a father who will not leave them nor let them down like their earthly fathers.  I thought about my father and all the times I’ve run to him.  I thought about all the good memories I have with my father.  The disparity between their experiences and my own was painful.  Inside I ached, wishing the kids could have what I did.  The song goes on, “He knows my name, He knows my every thought, He sees each tear that falls, and hears me when I call”.  The kids at GSF yearn for you to know their name.  When I arrived in October, black kids with shaved heads followed me around the first week and quizzed me saying, “What is my name?”  They so badly want to be known and remembered.  This song nailed it.  God is their father.  God is the only person that will never leave them.  God listens to them and cares.  God knows everything about them, even their name.  What a beautiful picture of a loving heavenly Father.