We just don't get it.

About a month ago, a mama rushed into the emergency department with a screaming, crying baby who had been burned.  Her face and arm were burned badly.  Yet another young child fell into the family cooking fire.  This is so frustrating, as we have a friend here, whom we lovingly call "Ponytail John" (He is a 60 year 

old-ish, super kind and loving Canadian man, and I'll let you guess how he wears his grey hair!) who has worked here for years, developing a business for Rwandans which makes danger-free, smoke free cookstoves for homes.  Our hospital has purchased many of these for free distribution to anyone who needs one - but the installation still costs money, and so, many poor families continue to gamble by necessity that their child won't fall onto their open cooking fire.  Either that, or they live in such a remote location that they have no idea that these smokeless stoves even exist! 

At any rate, this mama's baby fell in, and is now scarred for life.  Thankfully, her facial burn was more superficial, and it has already healed.  But, she burned 3 of her fingers down to the nubs, and needed skin grafts on the rest of her arm.  I am so glad Tim was able to save her thumb and index finger.  

This mom has patiently waited with her child in the hospital all month, always smiling and saying thank you to Tim and to me whenever he made rounds or I visited her.  

Yesterday, Tim removed the dressing and checked on the skin graft's progress.  He also removed many staples from her arm, which was quite painful for the little girl.  Ouch.  Tim was pleased with how well the graft had taken and with how great the arm looked.  (Meanwhile, I thought I might throw up from looking at it, so "great" is definitely a relative term here!)

These are pictures of the hand and arm when she
first arrived at the hospital with the burn.  

This is how "great" the arm now looks after a month and after skin
grafts......can you imagine having these staples removed without
anesthesia?  No, I can't, either.  :( 

A grateful and smiling mom, appearing that she has no worries left in the world.....and yet......

After she left the minor operating room, she told me, through mime and repeating sentences I never did understand multiple, multiple times, that she had four other young children at home, and they were hungry, and she needed to get home to be with them and to bring food to them.  

I asked her, through a nurse whom I grabbed to interpret for me, how old her children were and who was caring for them in her absence, and how far away she lived.  The answers?  "I have four other children, all under six years, I have no one to care for them so my oldest is watching the rest while my husband tries to work nearby to get money for food - but he normally works very far away, too far to leave the small children, so he hasn't been paid in a month.  I live two hours' walk from here, and I must leave at once because the 2 year old has lost too much weight."  A friend had walked to the hospital that very morning to let her know that something must be done, or her other children would become sick.  And the father was beside himself, trying to get a way to get enough food for them.  

I felt nauseous at the thought of this loving mother having to choose whom to help - her youngest baby, who still needs to stay at this hospital for another month or two, or her other children, hungry and two hours' walk away.  

I told her I would drive her home to pick up her other children, so she could bring them to stay at the hospital.  I would provide rice and beans for them to eat.  I thought it was such a great idea.  She seemed to agree.  Since we didn't communicate at all, and I knew I couldn't find her house on my own, I asked Innocent, one of the hospital and mission drivers, if he would drive my car with me to take this woman to get her other children.  Innocent said he'd be glad to do this, so we went to the hospital to pick up the woman.  It took over an hour to clear up some different miscommunications we'd had through our miming exercise, but at last she, the baby, Ruthie, Innocent and I were in the car, leaving the hospital.  Then the neighbor, who had walked so far with two other friends, to tell her about her other children, showed up out of nowhere and asked for a ride back as well.  Of course, climb on in!  Our merry party set out to find the other four kiddos.  

And this is where the title of this post comes into play.  WE JUST DON'T GET IT.  WE REALLY DON'T.  

First, I'm pretty sure it is more than a two hour walk to this house.  It was over an hour's drive!  And the roads?  Oh, I think the term "road" is really a misnomer.  More like glorified goat trails.  Of course, it started raining once we got onto the truly rough patch of road.  Our car got stuck at one point,

which is hard to do in a 4X4 Land Cruiser.  We had no shortage of helpful Rwandans on hand to help push us out of the problem, and were soon driving, or should I say, sliding again.  Ha ha! These roads are SO good for my prayer life.  Actually, as we rounded the corners of mountains in the driving rain with no traction at all,  I half expected to meet Jesus face to face any moment.....so I figured I may as well start talking to Him before I get there!  

The road eventually became so bad that Innocent just parked the vehicle and said we'd walk the rest of the way, which turned out to be about two miles.

 I laughed as he just left it right in the middle of the road - of course he did.  It's not like any other cars would be coming that way anytime in the next month! 

We started walking, and walking, and wondering if we'd ever get to the house.  The mama was SO excited to see her other children.  Her husband had been called earlier somehow, and was all dressed up and waiting for us along the trail about a mile down.  He joined our little parade and after another half hour or so, we came to their house.  

The two oldest children were gone collecting firewood, so they didn't get to see their mom at all for the whole ten minutes she was home.  We had to rush back, as the rain had momentarily stopped, but we could see a huge, dark cloud just two hills away.  Innocent said if we didn't get out of the worst part of the road before then, we would have to stay in this village overnight, as the car couldn't make it out.  

I snapped some quick pictures of the family, minus the two oldest children, and the wife gave the dad the rice, beans and oil we'd brought for them.  He was elated and relieved.  They kissed and hugged, and she quickly hugged and kissed her other babies, and we were off again.  

Don't let the nice shirts fool you.  Rwandans are a formal people, and every adult has one nice shirt to wear
when going to church, a wedding, or when meeting "important" people.  I guess we muzungus counted as vip's yesterday.  

I tried to explain she could bring the other children back with her, but she didn't understand.  Innocent was worried she might be charged extra for the other children taking up another bed.  I doubted that, as many moms have extra, healthy kids with them during their hospital stays.  But, I couldn't convince them in our hurried few minutes together, and the thunder started, and we simply had to leave.  

The 2 year old started crying, hard, for her mama, as she saw her leaving.  I whisked her up and started hiking back with her.  I just couldn't bear to see that little girl so bereft!  I'm sure she had no understanding of why her mom suddenly left a month ago, nor why she reappeared yesterday, and she definitely didn't understand why she had to leave again so soon.  I just couldn't let that poor kid have separation anxiety from her mom for yet another trauma of being instantly split away from her.  I couldn't help myself.  Stupid Muzungu.  I should have left well enough alone.  So, the dad started coming back with us, and ended up carrying her for me after a while, since I kept slipping and sliding on the trail so much.  At least she got to see her mom for another 45 minutes as we rushed back up the trail in the rain.  NEVERMIND that the 3 year old was left with the 4 year old, standing by the house,  mouths ajar, just staring and not comprehending all of this.  

Innocent started getting really worried as the rain came down faster and faster, heavier and heavier.  "We will not make it.  Please God, hold back the rain for us.  We need to get home."  I said "Amen", but inside my heart, I regretted that I couldn't feel as hopeful that God would intervene in this practical way for us.  

The rain slowed down, but did not completely go away.  We made it back to our car, and were greeted with about 50 people "guarding" it for us, fascinated to see the vehicle and peering all over and in it.  Innocent had to tell them all to hurry and step far away so we could try to leave.  We started driving.  Innocent acted like he was in a mad race!  He was driving so very, very fast.   made it out, and seriously, just when he said, "Thank you, God!" and "We made it past the bad road, now we are okay!", the rain started POURING DOWN, almost as if to assure my faithless heart that it was definitely no coincidence that the rain waited for us - God was watching our every move, and he held it back just for us.  

"All that for a ten minute visit?", you might ask.  Well, yes, it does seem a little crazy.  But it was a ten minute visit, AND some food for her little ones.  And maybe it was also to give me more insight into this place and these people I've come to love, but whom I really do not understand at all.  

How in the world does a mom stay in a crowded hospital ward for a month without seeing her husband or other kids?  

How in the world does a poor family like this keep 5 kids fed on a good day, let alone when tragedy strikes? 

How in the world is it possible that my life experience and their life experience can co-exist at the same time in history, on the same planet?  

Tim said, "I will never ask again why it took people so long to come to the hospital with a sickness or broken bone.  I forget they have to walk so very far to get here.  And walking to get here isn't a possibility on a broken leg."  

Just when I was beginning to adjust to the challenges of life in Kibogora, I drove out to a whole new place and experienced a whole different level of rural life.  I felt overwhelmed, exhausted, lonely, and even a bit scared.  I couldn't make sense of the fact that I was seeing hundreds and hundreds of people who definitely were living on much less than $1 a day.  In fact, seeing any money at all was most likely a rare occurrence.   Definitely it was bizarre for them to see a white person or a car.  In fact, no one even said "Muzungu! Muzungu!"  Usually, kids jump for joy at seeing us and run to give us a "high five".  We usually feel like movie stars as we walk along a road.  Here, they just either stared in shock at our skin as we walked by, or they cried and screamed and ran away.  I guess we looked like ghosts?  I don't know.  

Here are some pictures of the few kids who didn't
run away from us, but were brave enough to get a
closer look at the aliens in their midst. 

The stunned expressions say it all.  Our trip into this jungle village
(right next to the rainforest national park) will be remembered for
a while, I'm thinking.  

I didn't feel fear because the people were threatening.  They definitely were not.  In fact, they were scared of US.  I don't even know why I felt fear.  Maybe just b/c it was so foreign and I felt so small and so very far from home and all I "understand".  But, most of all I felt sadness and a sense of being completely in over my head.  I know I did not come to Rwanda to "fix" anything.  I know we will make no difference whatsoever in the economy or the overall situation.  Instead, we hope to bring health and healing and hope to SOME. So, I shouldn't have felt overwhelmed at the poverty and the numbers of people I encountered, but I did.  I just thought, "There are waves and waves of these remote villages, hundreds and hundreds and thousands of these people.  In fact, the world is full of these situations and much, much worse.  What's the use in trying?  I just want to go home, but a blanket over my head, forget what I'm seeing and drive through a Chick Fil-A and order a sandwich, some waffle fries and an extra large iced tea."  

Seriously, this is what I thought.  In fact, my mouth started watering in that remote jungle village over the thought of that #1 Chick Fil-A Meal Deal order I was placing in the drive-up window of my imagination.  

I just had to make this picture "extra large" to go with the image in my head.....

After our adventure last night, we went to a good-bye get together at one of the mission houses for Julie Wood, a young Hebrew and Greek scholar who has been teaching theology at the college for the last few months.  As everyone enjoyed visiting, I continued to sit in a kind of depressed daze.  It all just seemed surreal, all I'd seen that day, and yet here I was, on a comfortable chair in the mission compound, drinking hot spiced tea and visiting with friends.  Why were we even trying?  Why were we even here?  

I went to sleep feeling torn and tired and ragged. 

This morning, sipping the coffee that my sweet Tim brought to me in bed (Ah, the luxury!  And yes, he IS that nice!), I opened to John 6 and began to read.  I've been reading through the gospels and am now in my favorite of the four.  As you know, John 6 tells the story of the little boy who gave his five loaves of bread and 2 fish to Jesus when he realized a crowd of 5,000 men were hungry.  Surely 5 loaves and 2 fish were a RIDICULOUS thing to present to Jesus in light of such incredible need.  Yet, probably because he was a child and not a "logical" adult, the boy gave what he had.  He gave what he had.  And Jesus took it. And blessed it.  

I've read this story at least 1,000 times.  We all know the story.  

Yet, oh, how it put needed balm on my hurting heart this morning. 

I can do nothing about the hungry, poor, destitute people I met yesterday, or about the thousands more all over the world.  I can do nothing.  BUT, I can give Jesus what I have, even though it isn't much.  And He can do amazing things with that.  

I am so thankful this was my reading for today.  Don't know what else could have given me motivation to get up and get going again.  God's timing is amazing, isn't it?  And His word is food for this hungry soul.  

What can you give to Jesus, so that He in turn can feed and clothe the hungry and naked of the world?  I'd love to hear your thoughts.......