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February 13, 2008
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=========================== TODAY'S ARTICLE ==========================
Doreen, by Phil Ware
"What is your dream for your six children?" I asked her. The
interpreter then relayed the question with a bit of explanation.
We all came to this moment drenched in emotion. Tears welled in her
eyes. I had spent the previous seventy minutes with this woman and her
children in the middle of the unspeakable filth and stench of a slum
worse than any I, or any of my seasoned companions, had ever seen. The
room was less than eight by eight feet in size. Eight people called
this their home. The mother was HIV positive. Her husband was gone — he
hadn't run away, he didn't leave town, and he wasn't with another
woman; you can figure out the implications. The grandmother of these
six children slipped back into the shadows of one corner and ducked her
head. After a pause, the woman gave a short answer; her voice was soft
and distant as if speaking from some unseen place in the deepest
corner of her soul.
The interpreter paused as the woman's eyes filled with tears and
reddened. He shared a few words, then asked the question again, as if
hoping for more of an answer.
Her answer sounded similar, except this time, even more distant and
clearly carrying an element of shame that she could offer nothing more.
"She hopes her children can live to adulthood." Those were the stark
words of the interpreter as he ducked his head and refused eye contact.
His voice sounded resigned.
Those were her dreams. Not her prayers. Not her assumptions. Not her
expectations. The wildest expectations she had were small by most
modern standards, but huge in this place where we stood. I understood
-- at least as much as one so blessed and protected could understand. I
had seen the medical records of her youngest daughter. If she had not
been placed in Compassion's Child Survival Program, Doreen would not
have lived to see my visit. I would have never met her. I would have
never hugged her or seen her smile. I would not have done the
uncomfortable dance of trying to break the ice and help her get to know
a strange looking man she had never seen, speaking a language she did
not know, representing a family who wanted to sponsor her and pray for
her and help her find Jesus.
Of course none of this would be possible without Compassion and the
folks of the church committed to making a difference in this dark
place. No one can know her future outside the Father of us all. I pray
that somehow, our partnership from a world away joined with these
people committed to bring light to this very present darkness, can make
a difference for her. As I visited with one of my fellow
travelers after my visit, I was barely able to keep my emotions in
check. We both struggled to find words appropriate for what we had seen
in the parents' eyes we had seen today. It is not despair, because
despair at least involves the loss of hope. This malaise of suffocating
low expectations lies heavy on the street corners and settles in like a
fog, flooding every nook and cranny of the slums, sucking the life out
of the souls of a people expecting nothing ... except the worst.
I was so nervous my legs were wobbly.
My fear is that my experience will be casually tossed aside because we
have all seen so much and our calluses have grown so thick. These
things seldom move us to act anymore. Somehow, we can wrangle our minds
into thinking that they deserve it ... or brought it on themselves ...
or should work harder to prevent it ... or it is unfair for us to be
expected to do anything. All I know is that the all African
staff here, and the tens of thousands of church members seeking to make
a difference, have run out of fingers to put in the dike and they know
the tidal wave is nearing. I'm not talking theory. I'm not talking
partisan rhetoric or promoting the latest charity fad.
Our family prayed. We have been so blessed. Then, we were sent a little
packet of information about a little girl we didn't know and hadn't
seen. She was to go with the young boy we have sponsored for several
years. And I flew halfway around the world to see her. I was so nervous
about frightening this child and blowing this opportunity to convey our
family's love, and the love of Jesus, that my legs were wobbly when I
was done. But I tell you, it was worth the trip. And it will be worth
your time ... and prayer ... and monthly support ... to give a child
hope, when there is none. And I'm not ashamed to ask, "Have you found
your Doreen?"
I hope you will: http://www.compassion.com/sponsor_a_child/default.htm
A hug and a smile and a wave ... and you know why Jesus said it:
Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder
them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these"Matthew
19:14 TNIV).
---------
(c) 2008 Phil Ware <phil@heartlight.org>. All rights reserved.
RELATED LINKS:
* Yesterday's Blog
http://blogs.heartlight.org/phil/?p=236
* We're Off!
http://www.heartlight.org/articles/200802/20080210_weareoff.html
* Sponsor a Child
http://www.compassion.com/sponsor_a_child/default.htm
* Southern Hills Church of Christ
http://www.southernhillschurch.org
This article can be found on the web at:
http://www.heartlight.org/articles/200802/20080213_doreen.html
=========================== FEATURED PRODUCT =========================
VELVET ELVIS: REPAINTING THE CHRISTIAN FAITH, by Rob Bell
In this provocative, hopeful book, Bell asks what the church might look
like if today's believers fully embraced "the way" of love, peace,
sharing possessions, compassion, risk, forgiveness, and harmony.
http://shopping.heartlight.org/cgi-shl/link?254
Find more great books, CDs and videos at the Heartlight store! With
each purchase you make, you're helping to support Heartlight's
ministry. Thanks SO MUCH for your help!
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