Sad joy.

I was going to write about something completely different in this post until I started typing.  I am impressed to share with you what it's like helping the poor and needy here in South Africa. What it REALLY feels like.

I see a small child with a belly full of air. When was her last meal? She is the size of a 2 year old but she is really four.  Malnourishment will do that to you.  Her eyes are big, her face is expressionless, she doesn't play. She has no energy.  Her parents have died from AIDs, her relatives may mistreat her. You just don't know.  You hear so many stories of terrible things happening to vulnerable and orphaned children.

So here is this little beauty and I stand there, just looking at her. I want to hold her, I want to pray over her, I want to love her. I smile because she is such a treasure but inside anger starts to build. How can this happen to a child? Thousands and millions of children?

Grief starts to set in: it is unbearable to think of her going to bed hungry. It's unbearable to think she can't even play because she has no fuel in her body.  It's grotesque to think of what harm may come to her from the witch doctor.  Anger! Anger at sin and the fallen state of this crooked and depraved world!

She starts to walk and she trips. She gets the tiniest little cut on her tiny little finger and her eyes start to well up. I go to her and pick her up. She doesn't speak, tears roll down her cheeks but she doesn't make a sound.  I sit her down and take a bandaid from my purse, ready to start crying myself. Oh God save her! Rescue her from this life!

I put a Sponge Bob bandaid on her finger and she stares at me. I stare back.

She can't speak my language. I can't speak hers.

Silence and staring, that's all we do for what seems like forever but in actuality is less than a minute. I feel sick. I feel helpless, I feel sad, I feel inadequate.

Chloe says she needs to go to the bathroom and starts to tug on me.

I go off with Chloe but I'm really with the little girl. Oh God, please rescue that child! I feel the warmth of Chloe's little hand in mine. Oh God keep Chloe safe and with us always! Two little girls, Two different worlds.

We give the children food.  We give them a few small toys, a stuffed animal.  Someone translates a Bible story being read. "Listen to this Bible story . . ."  Oh God rescue that little girl, please! "And God sent Jesus . . . " Father, you are there for the Fatherless, please protect her from all harm and deliver her from all evil. The Bible story ends, my heart continues to break, feeling helpless, feeling overcome with grief.  Praying and praying and praying.

For two days my heart continues to ache.  When my girls squeal and play I think of the little girl in the plaid shirt: she doesn't play.  My girls take a bath and I think of the little girl: she has probably never had a bath in her shack.  My girls eat breakfast, lunch, snacks and dinner, and yes, I think of the little girl. She probably hasn't eaten all day.  My girls go to bed in their own rooms on their own beds in clean clothes and a full belly, I think of the little girl who has none of this.

I talk to my girls about thankfulness one morning and Savannah says, "I'm thankful I have a mom and dad, and a family and food to eat and a warm bed." My eyes start to well up.  Tears run down my cheeks but I don't make a sound.  A million emotions collide and I just stare. Gratitude wells up in my heart but speaking is impossible.  I think of the little girl.  Was that what was happening when I gave her a baindaid? Is it possible part of her tears were gratitude? Gratitude that someone held her? Gratitude that someone cared for her? Gratitude that someone noticed her?

I am so grateful for the heart God is giving my children. So grateful, yet so sad at what they see. Sad joy.

Did God use me as part of that little girls rescue? Was that small interaction a gift of hope to her? Did I show her that someone loves her which will help her understand that there is a God that loves her?

Suddenly I don't feel as helpless.  Suddenly I have hope for the little girl in the plaid shirt with the crazy hair and beautiful big eyes. God CAN rescue her. God CAN save her.  I will pray to that end. I will fight for her in prayer!

"Help" and "Hope" have new meanings to me now.  A smile is a gift to someone in need. Yes food, yes clothes, yes medicine.  But it is the physical touch, the eye contact, it's making them feel human, it's the attempted conversation. It's meeting their felt need while meeting their real need: to know their need for a Savior and to know that that Savior is Jesus.

We are all this needy, some of us just don't realize it. We ALL need Jesus. We ALL have sinned. We ALL fall short of the glory of God. We are all as destitute as this little girl. We need His rescue, we need to believe in His life, death and resurrection and receive His forgiveness of the punishment of our sin: eternal separation from Him.  When we do this He adopts us, we are His forever. We are rescued!

Though it hurts every time I see an orphaned child, though it hurts seeing homeless people on the street, though my heart never seems to mend from sadness and grief, I do have hope. I have Jesus and I want to share Him whether it be through prayer, word or deed.

There isn't enough money in the world to make things right for the continent of Africa. But there is a God big enough to make their hearts right with His. Thank you Jesus!