Sunday, January 20, 2008
On Children Dying
Volume 2, Issue 29
January 18, 2008
-On Children Dying-
…innocent lives, gone from us now…
Oh Lord, I do not understand you, but I know you are just. I do not understand your ways, but I know you love us much. Each child had a father, a mother, a place on this earth, but now they are gone, a heavenly rebirth. I pray that each child pictured above is rejoicing with you - no more worry, strife, or mortal woe. I do not know why these children made an early depart, but thankful I am that I was blessed to behold them in my sight. Each child I saw in the pediatric ward, each face I touched, many of their families I knew. God, please let your heavenly gift of wisdom and mercy flow unto me now, for I am sorry that I could not do more to help impart life to these lowly few, but no doubt each special and loved by you, each held in highest regard. I do not know why I am where I am, but I trust it is all part of your eternal plan. When I see each face below, I am tearful and sad, but thankful for the often brief interaction we had. For these children and their families have blessed me beyond compare, and when people ask me why I am here, I will show them these pictures and say:
God loves the sinner and the saints, the wealthy and the poor, He cared for these children through disease and despair. If he can love these often forsaken few, why can’t I do all that I can do – to share His love and hopefully bring some healing too, to the desperate mother whose child is ill, to the malnourished child whose skin was pealing and limbs were swelling great, to the anemic 9 month old little boy whose 11 blood transfusions could not carry him through, to the child that I thought was OK, but then died the next day, to the deeply caring and committed mother who sat by her child’s side, day after day for a month, then laid on the floor and cried when she found her son Ngonzi had died, to the mother whose 5 year old child declined over the past month, first with fever, then convulsions, then unconscious for the last few days, until the heavenly ghost carried his soul away, for the pitiful looking little boy, Bahecura, with his edematous body and daily groaning cry, his mother meek and poor, daily by his side, for a month or more, until on that Thursday night he died - the list goes on, and so shall I.
At times I want to quit, forsake it all and leave, but somehow I can’t. Some moments I blame myself, what could I have done to save that little girl of nine, whose father loved her deeply as he sat by her side, begging and pleading for life, but in the end was denied. What medicines or treatments could I have changed that would have decreased the pain? Am I really making any difference at all, or is it just a waist of everyone’s time? In the end my conclusion is always the same, God has led me here for a time such as now, in this often forgotten place, and whether I feel prepared or not, here I am. So how can I question, how can I doubt – God is control, it is not me that determines ones fate, I am merely a vehicle for which I pray God has ordained, to love others, the lowly and the few, the meager and the mild, the sick and the weak child, the beggar and the lame. Lord, please, let me love them all the same.