My Eyes are Opened

It’s about that time again. Time to go back to into the hospital for round 3! This break has gone by of course entirely too fast, but it has been a great break. How I have felt this break cannot even compare to the first one. I have had much more energy, I’ve gone back to working a little, I’ve been out and about, and am feeling just generally much better. Praise the Lord! So as I am standing on the precipice of round 3 beginning on Monday, I say, “Bring it on!” My doctor is increasing my dose of chemotherapy. He saw me last time staring at the chemo bags and laughing in their face. Needless to say they cowered in fear and submission, so he thinks it’s best to try and up the dose. Psh. Child’s play.

Anyways, something has been on my mind throughout this entire ordeal and I think it’s appropriate at this time to bring it up. It’s actually an event that has been on my heart for nearly a year now, something that is one of those life-changing, breath-taking, make-you-rethink-your-life type events. It came in the form of a sick little girl I met in Uganda this past summer.

Many of you may or may not know that I spent two weeks in southwest Uganda working with Christians there doing ministry at a Bible College and at a rural medical clinic. At the medical clinic, hundreds of people from the surrounding villages came (some more than 3 miles) to sit and wait in the hot sun to be helped by our small medical team. For two weeks they were helped by our group (I began working with them the second week), and praise the Lord we were able to help establish this clinic for the people of that community.

Before you think that I might fit in at a medical clinic, I assure you that as a Shotts, I am a misnomer, and all I did was fumble along in the pharmacy trying to help fill prescriptions for the Ugandans that didn’t have medical care. Many of you know that I do not show emotions very well, and Uganda was no different. I was trying very hard to not get moved emotionally by the great need for Jesus and for medicine there where we were working. I didn’t want to show anyone that I was affected by the spiritual and physical pain these people were experiencing. I was doing a good job of staying objective with the task at hand. And it helped that I was in the pharmacy dealing with finding the correct medicine, counting pills, and filling prescriptions. Objective. I didn’t have to see the patients, deal with their hurts and pains, try to communicate with them and encourage them. Other jobs were taking the patients temperatures, blood pressures, finding out their symptoms, etc. But in the pharmacy, I could just stay behind the scenes and maybe I could get out of there without being moved by the needs that I saw. Let me just say this, God works in mysterious ways.

There were too many of us in the pharmacy. Since I was the newest member of the team, I took a break and sat in the ‘waiting room’. A few minutes later the leader of our team rushed in the door carrying a little girl. She was incredibly sick with malaria, barely awake and able to move on her own. He sat her down next to me and ran to get the doctor. Unbelievable. All of a sudden, after trying to keep my distance from being too involved with what was going on, I was thrust into a situation where I couldn’t do anything but be involved, and the emotions I was trying to hard to keep in check all came bubbling forth. Those next few minutes with her sitting by me are so difficult to put into words. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to help? I couldn’t heal her. I couldn’t speak her language. I didn’t even know her name. I thought of when I was a child. My mother took me to the doctor when I was sick. This girl was all alone. At my doctor’s office we had toys and games in the waiting room, with cool paintings on the wall and stickers and candy when we were done. This clinic was concrete and had no toys. My mom was the one who communicated with the doctor. The doctor came and told her how and when to take the medicine. If I was that sick, I would’ve been able to go to the hospital and get IV fluids and the best, state of the art medical care. She had to get her medicine in a little Ziploc bag with a bottle of water. Here I was, sitting next to a very sick little girl, not knowing if she was going to live or die, feeling worlds apart, and yet the Lord laid it on my heart to do something. But what could I do?

I went to my backpack and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. For the next few minutes I drew pictures with her. I told her my name and tried to my best to communicate with her, to make her laugh, to make her feel not so afraid, to make her think of something else besides her sickness. In a few minutes, she was pretty exhausted and so we stopped drawing. She laid her head on my shoulder and slept. Those next moments seemed like an eternity to me. All of those “Why, God?” questions welled up in my mind. Why this little girl? Why all this sickness and pain? Why can’t you just heal her? I was heartbroken that here was this very sick little girl sitting next to me, and I could not even communicate in words the love of Jesus for her. I wanted very badly to tell her that things were going to be okay. That Jesus loved her and cared about her, that he defeated sin and death and Satan so that one day there would be no more sickness and pain and suffering, so that one day she wouldn’t have to be alone and scared. But instead I had to sit there silent, while she slept, praying that she would be ok. God works in such mysterious and sometimes very frustrating ways.

And just like that, our team leader came with the doctor, woke her up and explained the medicine to her. Still too weak to walk, our team leader picked her up and carried her back to the school she was at, about a five minute’s walk away. How badly I wanted to be the one to save her. To carry her back to the school and make sure she was okay. To help her get better. To make sure she understood how to take the medicine. To make her feel comfortable and unafraid. All these things I wanted to do but knew that I couldn’t. It was out of my control. I watched that little girl go, not knowing whether I would ever see her again or ever find out how she was doing. God works in such mysterious ways.

I think of that little girl every time I go to the hospital now. I think of how blessed I was and am to be in a place that provides incredible medical care. I never take for granted the blessings that God has given me when it comes to the cancer I have now. He has kept me safe and given me doctors and a hospital that can provide the care I need to get better. He’s given me a family, friends, and a church family that support me in so many ways that I am overwhelmed. I can’t begin to describe my gratitude for all of this. But yet I’m constantly reminded of that little girl in Uganda who didn’t have what I have. I’m reminded that Jesus calls us to go and make disciples of all nations. I’m reminded that he says to love our neighbor as ourselves. He calls us to share his love with those who don’t have it. To meet the needs of those who we come into contact with.

Let’s be passionate about showing Christ’s love to the people of God (for this is how the world will know we are his disciples) and then to those who don’t know his love and to those who need his healing, spiritual and physical. Many of those sick people in Uganda begged for Bibles in their own language. Many wanted to know why God would do this to them. Many of them aren’t going to be able to hear about Jesus because they are dying from illnesses like malaria and complications from AIDS.

I’m reminded of all this as I prepare to go back into the hospital on Monday. My eyes are opened. I pray that yours would be as well. Those of us who are in Christ, let’s not forget those in the body of Christ that are hurting, physically, spiritually, emotionally. Maybe what they need is just a shoulder to put their head on. And let’s not forget those who don’t know Christ. Perhaps they need to see his love as well. That’s my prayer and goal this round, to show the love of Christ to those in good ole Roberts building, floor 9.

There is an end to the story of that little girl. The next day there was a team of us going to the elementary school to give shoes and glasses to the children there. As I was helping one of the girls with her glasses, this other girl comes up to me, tugs on my shirt and waves with this big smile on her face. At first I didn’t recognize her, but then I knew who it was. It was the little girl from the clinic! Words can’t describe how overjoyed I was to see her. She looked so much better, and I knew that God had worked a miracle. God is good. He was in control all along. He is a healer. I praise and thank him that even in my weakness and selfishness, he used me and changed my heart to become more like him. Let’s get in on his mission and share his love to those who need it.