another rewind and fastforward blog.
rewind to last Tuesday: first day of hospital ministry
We were there to pray for patients and encourage them, oh and scrub in on surgery if we so desired. (um, heck no!)
As we entered the first room I was immediately drawn to an elderly man in the corner. I don't know what it is, something in my heart just lurches and clings to a specific person. As Haddie and I sat down with him, he gripped my hand tightly and his face lit up. Calvin. In his 60s, had surgery on his spleen. He was literally skin and bones. Missing teeth and wrinkles from age. He couldn't understand English very well and was in a lot of pain, but that smile… I will never forget it. We prayed for him and talked to him for a bit. As we got up to leave he held my hand tigher and said "God Bless You" about a dozen times. Later, he was wakling between buildings and I approached him to see if he needed help. He was shuffling his feet as if each step was a painstakingly difficult process. He didn't want me help, but he wanted his picture taken. He didn't smile, but instead stood proudly, holding onto any bit of dignity he had left. (His friend never smiled and I was unsure whether he was offended by the picture. But after I took it he shook my hand and thanked me.)
fast foward to yesterday: second day of hospital ministry
This elderly lady was sitting on a straw mat outside. Again, I was immediately drawn to her by something stirring in my heart. I sat down next to her and quickly learned that she knew no English whatsoever. I immediately felt a pang of discouragement but I pushed it away. Through creative hand motions and a brief 3 minutes of a boy translating I was able to learn a lot. Dorita is her name. Catholic. She came from a far away village to be here with a family member. Another half toothed smile and a deep blue in her eyes, she was precious. As we struggled to communicate we found common ground in laughing and me trying to learn Lango. Most of the time we sat in silence but it was a comfortable silence. The best part was when she kept grabbing her chest and pointing at me. I learned that she wanted me to be her granddaughter. (Yes! I now I have an African grandmother!). Later she took me into the room where her granddaughter, Karen, was recovering from a recent operation.
Thankfully Karen spoke English so I was able to spend the rest of the morning talking with the two of them. Karen is only 18. Dorita has raised her since her mother died when she was just an infant. I could see the pain on her face as she struggled to sit up. Worship music was playing in the room and as we sat there we sang together. One young Ugandan and one young American. It was a moment I won't forget.
God is alive and moving in this place.
I feel His presence in some of the most unlikely places.
He gets my attention in the most unlikely moments.
And slowly, my heart is opening and breaking for these people once again.
