Yesterday our team reached the halfway mark of our trip, leaving us with less than seven weeks left of ministry. For over a month now we have had a fairly consistent ministry schedule that we have adjusted to and, for the most part, we have become pretty acclimated with the joys and the struggles that they often result in. I personally felt like I had grown almost numb to the pain of losing patients in the hospitals that I had established a relationship with simply because it seemed to happen so frequently. I could look at the starving and malnourished children and though it hurt, I could move on without breaking into tears and I could see dying women and prepare myself for the next time I came to visit in case they were no longer there. I felt like I had mastered the art of hardening my heart so that I could save myself from the grief and the heartache that often came with hospital visits. This past week, however, I felt that God was calling me to mourn for His people and to grieve for His children who are dying in this land of sin, poverty, and sexual immorality. At first, I wasn’t so sure about His request…why would He want me to be sad, wouldn’t that affect my ministry?
On Thursday at the Manzini hospital God led me to the children’s ward and as I walked in I felt a huge weight fall on my heart. I decided to visit some of the smaller babies and the first child I came to was 6 months old and weighed only about 8 pounds. I forced myself to shut my heart down because I knew that that little boy was in desperate need for care that he wasn’t receiving and I didn’t want to grow too attached. Just then he started coughing and in the period of about 3 minutes he threw up several times, sending his mother into a panic and bringing tears to my eyes. I prayed, “I can’t do this, God, this is too much.” I had to get out of there before I got too upset. What good would I be if I were just a blubbering mess? I went outside and calmed myself down and then went to play with a little boy who I had spent time with the week before. In the boy’s room was another young boy and his mother who seemed pretty happy to have some company. I noticed her son was sleeping so I decided to play with the other boy and after an hour passed I noticed that her son still hadn’t moved. I eventually decided to ask her what he was sick with and she told me that he had polio which basically just shuts the body down if untreated. The boy was 7 years old and hadn’t woken up in a month and the hospital wasn’t doing anything. He had a feeding tube in him but there was nothing that it was connected to, it was just a plastic tube that was doing absolutely nothing. He was there to die and they all knew it, even his mother and yet there was nothing she could do about it. I felt myself breaking and my throat tightened as I fought back tears of anger and sorrow for this poor boy and his mother who hadn’t left his side in weeks. It was time for me to go so I left her feeling so confused and heart-broken for him. How could the doctors just ignore his fatal condition? I spent the rest of the day asking God for understanding and guidance in that ministry but all He told me was, “Be still. Love them. Get attached, even if it’s painful. They need you, they need Me.”
On Saturday we went to another hospital in Mbabane and I went in keeping in mind what God has been telling me. I went to the third cubicle in the children’s ward and there I found a group of mothers and I sat with them. I held a couple of their babies and I was relieved that God had given me a break from anything too emotionally straining. That was until He led me to a little girl who, just like the baby in Manzini, was incredibly small for her age and extremely malnourished. She was 20 months old and wearing clothing for a 3-month old, and even those were big on her. She barely had the strength to lift her own head so she just laid limp in her bed. Her mother was there, tired and worn from 2 weeks of sleepless nights on the hard hospital floor, so many of the other women helped her take care of her. One of them decided to try and feed her (she hadn’t eaten in days) and I was so amazed by the way that even complete strangers loved this child. Each of the mothers took turns trying to get her to eat and after several attempts she finally ate…and she ate everything! Our room basically turned into a big party as complete strangers celebrated this new improvement. There was whooping, hugging, clapping, and for a moment I smile on the baby’s mother’s face. It was beautiful.
It was that afternoon when I realized what God trying to tell me. I began to understand that in order to minister to the people and to really love them I must get attached and I must allow myself to feel the pain that they feel. Only then can I truly love them like Jesus.
