called to love

"Sometimes working in a Third World Country makes me feel like I am emptying the ocean with an eyedropper.  And just when I have about a half a cup full of water it rains.  Love is the reason I just keep filling up my little eyedropper, keep filling it up and emptying my ocean one drop at a time.  I'm not here to eliminate poverty, to eradicate disease, to put a stop to people abandoning babies.  I'm just here to love."

~Katie Davis

I don't know why water has so much symbolism for me.  I think it's ironic that I live on an island and one of the best ways I can describe how I'm feeling is by the example of water.  Today it poured.  And when I say it poured, I don't mean that rain literally fell from the sky.  It felt like a tropical storm swept across my little piece of the world without any warning.  Today was one of those moments where I felt like it was all I could do to stay on my feet.  Moments where I wanted nothing more than to fall on my knees with prayers in desperation.  While playing in the village this afternoon, one of the older women stopped over and said a child was sick and that Katherine, Leslee, and I needed to go to the child's home.  None of us were prepared for what we would find when we entered the home of our friend.  We found our friend and her little boy sitting on the floor.  The little seven month old was sprawled out across his mothers lap.  His mother said he hadn't been eating or breastfeeding well and that he had been sick for two weeks.  At first I was confused and just taken off guard.  I had felt this little boy kick in his mother's womb throughout her pregnancy.  I had met this little boy just hours after he was born.  This little boy had always been chunky and well cared for.  No one had told Katherine, Leslee, or I that he had been sick before this moment.  I had passed by his home and talked with his mother just days before.  Nothing was said.  The chunky little boy that I'd known for seven months wasn't there.  Rather, here was this child that was incredibly severely malnourished.  This child barely had life in him.  His body was nothing but bones.  His mother said that her breast milk was no longer good, and that another person had told her to stop breastfeeding him. She said he no longer had an appetite.  This sweet baby boy just stared at us.  He stared at us with this haunting look in his eyes.  Just a few months ago, he had been able to sit and had started pulling himself around to begin crawling before he became sick.  Now he was lifeless in his mothers lap.  I don't know what happened.  We are in the village almost daily.  We sit and play with the older children just two homes over from this family's home.  We have greeted his family each and every afternoon and no one has said a thing.  It's moments like these ones when it literally pours.  We talked with his mother and told her that she had to bring him to the clinic.  We told her that we loved both her and her son, and that we wanted to help them through this.  We said that we would pray for them and we will.  I walked home so frustrated.  I was frustrated that this had happened right before my own eyes.  I'm still in shock, and honestly I am just overwhelmed by how sick this little boy was.  As I walked home I felt hopeless.  The whole situation felt hopeless.  I want to see poverty, malnutrition, and everything that is unjust eradicated.  I want to see the children healthy, and not just surviving, but rather thriving.  And yet, none of this is in my control.  I am not called to figure out all the pieces or to solve everything in Chambrun. I'm called to love.  So today I choose to love.  I choose to walk and intentionally seek His face.  

The top band is his arm circumference 88mm.
The bottom band shows the lowest arm circumference possible for
him to not be considered malnourished/at risk- 136mm.  

20 ounce coke bottle cap (left)- 98mm
This sweet little boy's arm measurement (right)- 88mm