Kids who suffer

Well…it’s the weekend again, and here I am taking some time to sit, think, and update the blog. Much has happened recently that is worth writing about.  My close friend and brother, Michael Chaney joined me here in Galmi a few days ago. Michael and I have been friends since the third grade, and we have been together through the entire planning, preparation, and support raising process for this trip. I’m glad we can also share the experience of being here as well. We were talking the other day just about God’s faithfulness in bringing us to Niger. The raising of the 5000 dollars necessary to be here was something that both Michael and I recognized was completely impossible without God’s help. We were both in school, and only had around two months to raise the necessary funds for this trip. It’s amazing that despite our inadequacies, failed printings, missing letters and addresses, short time schedule, and a million other obstacles, God brought us here. We not only got to share the calls that God had put on our lives and our summers with a few hundred people, but God brought financial support to both us from the most unlikely of places. College students (ha!) gave to us despite not having funds; non-believers gave, recognizing that we are living our lives for something far greater than ourselves; a random stranger met once on an airplane gave; and we received several anonymous gifts. Michael and I had many doubts—raising so much money was scary, and we both had other less challenging opportunities we could have taken part in over the summer. But God wanted us to go to Niger and He provided a way. His present and guiding hand was unmistakable, and I just want to praise Him for His faithfulness in bringing us both safely here.

             

There are so many things that happen in a day that I could write about. There are no normal days—no boring days. Life is full of excitement and opportunity. Seeing God work in the lives of people around me, seeing His creation so alive and vibrant, and just being in a different country all give me pages of material to write about and mull over in my head.

             Recently I got to work/play with three little children that are patients of the Occupational Therapist that works here at Galmi. The two little boys and little girl were all about the age of 7 or 8, with faces that could model for any American clothing store. They each had beautiful smiles, bright eyes and smooth skin. All of them had arm injuries—the result of mis-handled fractures that got infected. I along with Michael and the OT at Galmi got to play with the kids by blowing bubbles with them, passing a ball and then drawing with chalk. I then got to go visit a 7-year-old girl that had just had her entire right arm amputated very close to her shoulder. I was one of the people to hold her arm before it was amputated. This girl was once again a beautiful child, smiling and shy. We blew bubbles with her and then watched as she tried to fit wooden blocks into various holes that were shaped accordingly. It was amazing because both groups of children seemed to have no understanding of abstract shapes. The first group of children had an extremely hard time drawing any kind of shape, and the girl with an amputation couldn’t seem to understand the idea that triangles fit into triangle shaped holes, while squares fit into square shaped holes.

It was all very shocking. Here were human beings who were so beautiful and yet so marred. They seemed like completely normal kids—full of energy and life, giggles and shyness and yet…almost all of them had huge crippling wounds that would forever alter their way of life. They were also so similar to me and yet so different from me—they were in the image of God, fine beautiful human beings, bursting with emotion, with so much potential, with souls that needed and still need to meet God in His fullness and be wed to Him; each with a story, a family, and a future. And yet…these children didn’t speak my language, they couldn’t understand something that seemed so simple and foundational to abstract thought—the concept of shapes, and their futures from my perspective seemed bleak at best. In the words of my OT friend, “Niger is not kind to left handed individuals.” In a culture where the left hand is considered dirty, and is used to go to the bathroom, and where shaking hands is such an important part of daily life and the formation of friendship, I can’t even imagine losing my dominant right hand in an amputation. Yet, today, I visited a shy seven-year-old girl who will never again be able to shake hands with her “clean” hand.

 It is difficult for me to understand why I was born so blessed. I have a family that is doing well. I have never gone hungry. My wants and whims have been so often satisfied. I get to take trips to do exciting medical things. I get to go to college and I use words like “career” and “major” to describe where I believe my life is headed. I have all of my limbs. For all of these things I thank God. But…today I met four people that don’t have any of the blessings I mentioned in their lives. And just the thought of four lives without any of those blessings astounds me. Perhaps even more astounding is the fact that I only saw the need of four little children—four out of how many thousands and millions of children, women, human beings that have so much need. It’s mind-blowing. Just to be play and touch a child that desperately needs help will change your perspective on suffering.

 It’s interesting because there is a definite tendency within me to want to only write about the things that I have figured out. In the process of growing up in the Lord, it seems that something happens in my life that gets me thinking, and I only understand the thing that I am thinking about after days, weeks, months or years of God using that thought or shaping my experiences to teach me something about Him. It feels great to write about the lessons that God has taught me. But there are so many lessons that God is in the midst of teaching me. These unfinished life lessons are a lot less fun to write about—one, because they lack a clean conclusion (something that has been subtly ingrained into me by college professors J ) but two, because it forces me to admit that I have a lot to learn and experience in terms of God’s goodness.

My experience with suffering is one of those lessons. While I definitely have cognitive answers for how God is big enough and good enough to have a plan for people that seem hopeless, I believe this is something that God is teaching me about. Perhaps it’s even the reason I am here—to learn what it means to suffer and to see God’s hand at work in the midst of suffering. Please pray for me, that God would open my eyes to see that He has a plan for even the most outcast and weakest of individuals. Also pray that I would recognize His plan in my life, and not be afraid to live it. Talking with Dr.’s here has been both exciting, invigorating, and terrifying. Please pray for me to love intentionally and fully as a vessel of God’s love. That’s all for now, but feel free to comment and tell me your thoughts and wisdom. Love you all!