The Beauty of Ministry

Throughout my time with Lydia, not only was I ministering to her, but my King Jesus was ministering to me.

During this time, He spoke this beautiful verse over me:

 “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’" ~Matthew 25:40

Day after day, I sat by His side and fed Him. I held His hand as He was given extremely painful injections of the myriad of medicines He was on. I gently lifted Him and put Him into Selah's infant bathtub.  I sat by His side and bathed Him as He screamed in terror. As I held Him in my arms after His bath, my heart again broke.

King Jesus also sweetly reminded me of one of the verses I cling to when I feel as though "my" efforts are insufficient. To remind me that I am being used as His hands and His feet, and He is the One working through me. I am not called to do ALL of the work, but just the tasks He has assigned for me, with the help of the gifts He has placed in me. Ultimately, when I do what He has asked, it is Him who is doing the work, with me as the vessel.

"There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them.  There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord.  There are different kinds of working, but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work." ~1 Corinthians 12:4-6

Day after day, Jesus sat by her side and fed her. Jesus held her hand as she was given extremely painful injections of the myriad of medicines she was on. Jesus gently lifted her and put her into Selah's infant bathtub. Jesus sat by her side and bathed her as she screamed in terror. As Jesus held her in His arms after her bath, His heart again broken.

The beauty of ministry is, this is NOT where the story ends! Jesus is in the business of transformation and restoration! 

Lydia has not remained in the state we found her. In fact, she is a different child today than when I first met her. The supernatural healing has begun, both inside and out. 

In addition to her suffering, I've been by her side for the amazing way she has progressed - by leaps and bounds!

Her first steps!

It is terrifying to look at a dying child and fall in love...But the incredible thing about choosing to invest in the "hard cases" is that you get to witness something truly miraculous! You get to see the hand of God at work in a very real way. I prayed for supernatural healing over Lydia. And daily God is showing up and answering that prayer.

Sweet kisses <3

Funny faces

Goofing around

The day she laughed for the very first time :D

(I plan to write an update about Lydia in our upcoming hard copy annual newsletter, so be on the lookout via your mailbox - yes, they do still exist :) - and if you would like to be sure to receive a copy, but are unsure if we have your address, please feel free to comment or private message my FB inbox)

The Daughter of a King

Her eyes were vacant and lonely. They stared past me and everything else in the room. Hidden there was the story of the tragic childhood she has endured. At 4 years old, and only 15 pounds she was a pitiful sight to see. She was too weak to eat, too weak to talk, and just too weak. As I held her hand, I couldn't help but think Lydia is just one year younger than my 5 year old, 40 pound daughter. My heart shattered to pieces as silent tears streamed down my face.

The first day I met Lydia

Over the next few days, weeks, and months, this child filled my mind. I went to bed asking the Lord to have mercy on her, I woke up begging Him for the supernatural healing of her body. I spent every day, multiple hours a day sitting by her bedside. Painting her nails. Changing her diaper. Helping her slowly and painstakingly swallow a small 150mL cup of a nutrient rich milk drink. Her body so unfamiliar with consuming anything, that it took over an hour for her to finish this minuscule amount. Each tiny gulp was held in her mouth for a long while before she very slowly allowed it to trickle down her throat. The whole time she stared off into nothingness.

As I got to know more about her, I soon came to realize malnourishment wasn't the only thing her frail frame was suffering from. Spending countless hours at the hospital gave me quite a bit of insight into the other diseases that were ravishing her body - tuberculosis, epilepsy, and HIV/AIDS. Dr. Guffey, the incredible American doctor that has recently joined our staff, told me I had picked a really hard child to fall in love with. She was literally days away from dying when we found her, and even with medical attention she had a lot to overcome and her chances of survival were slim. Despite the odds, and possible heartache it might entail, I couldn't give up on her. Something deep within told me she needed something more than the doctors could offer, and I took on the mission His Voice gave me.

I took this photo (and many others) for child services,
but to protect her privacy this is the only one of this nature
I am willing to post

Day after day, I sat by her side and fed her. I held her hand as she was given extremely painful injections of the myriad of medicines she was on. I gently lifted her and put her into Selah's infant bathtub (which I brought because nothing in the Zambian hospitals is provided, I mean nothing - no towels, no soap, no blankets, NOTHING). I sat by her side and bathed her as she screamed in terror - seemingly unaware of what a bath was. As I held her in my arms after her bath, my heart again broke. She was nothing but bones, and the gap between the condition of her body and that of my Rylee was so huge! How could someone, let alone her mother, allow a child to get to this point??!!? I just don't understand.

Throughout each new and terrifying experience, I tried to soothe Lydia in the only way I knew how. Often with my own girls, when all else fails to comfort them, I make up songs. Mostly short and simple, but they seem to enjoy them. So when her eyes went wide and she shrieked from fear, I did the only thing I knew - I made up a song...

"Lydia, sweet Lydia, you are so beautiful.
Lydia, sweet Lydia, the daughter of a King."

Even though she couldn't understand the words, I wanted to pour truth over her. Truth that would sink deep within her and wash away the lies that have filled her life. Her earthly father deserted her leaving her as an unworthy and unwanted burden, and her earthly mother was denying her nutrition because she saw Lydia's sick body as a waste of resources. But her true Father saw her, loves her, and rescued her. In His eyes, she is so beautiful - His treasured daughter, a princess in His Kingdom.

I sang softly in her ear...

"Lydia, sweet Lydia, you are so beautiful.
Lydia, sweet Lydia, the daughter of a King."

The Truth will overcome, He will have victory here. And it starts with a simple song I pray will be written on her heart forever.

(I plan to write an update about Lydia in our upcoming hard copy annual newsletter, so be on the lookout via your mailbox - yes, they do still exist :) - and if you would like to be sure to receive a copy, but are unsure if we have your address, please feel free to comment or private message my FB inbox)

Isn't she cold?

I was told early on in my pregnancy that unless I was prepared to outfit Selah from head to toe in the warmest clothing, in addition to 5 big fuzzy blankets, and a thick stocking cap, I would be chastised for allowing my baby to be cold. I thought surely this was an exaggeration, but the comments began straight away in the delivery room...

As soon as she was delivered, the nurse asked "Where is her hat?" Casey and I looked at each other not knowing what to say. We hadn't thought to bring one. The nurse seemed quite disappointed at this fact, but went ahead and wrapped Selah in a blanket. We assured her we would have a friend bring one as soon as possible.

Fortunately, a friend brought the hat quickly, which seemed to put the nursing staff at ease. 

The room we stayed in at the hospital was large, but unlike an American hospital, there is not a nursery where the babies sleep - so Selah shared our room. There was a small bed for me, a futon for Casey, and a plastic rolling basinet for Selah (although she mostly slept with me). The wall air condition unit (we call it an AirCon for short) was on the opposite side of the room as my bed, and while it managed to cool Casey's futon, it fell well short of reaching my bed. In January, temperatures are high and with Selah and my combined body heat, our room seemed sweltering. We both glistened from the heat.  

Many times the nurses would come in and see Selah in my arms, without her blanket. Each time, they would ask "Isn't she cold?" I explained that both of us were sweating, and I thought she was fine but they insisted she must be cold and I should wrap her in a thick blanket.

At one point, during the wee hours of the morning, the heat was too much and though I knew the nurses wouldn't approve, I finally did turn on a small fan attached to the wall next to my bed. I pointed it directly at my feet in a way that the breeze did not even touch Selah.  She was hungry and fussy because my milk was still working on coming in, and it would be polite to say we were all a little on edge (new parents, you've been there - sleep deprived, frustrated, unable to calm the screaming newborn in your arms). 

 A nurse came in to check on us, and upon observing my fan, immediately said "The baby is crying because she is cold." 

What?!? No, we are all HOT, not cold!! And she is crying because she is hungry - cold has NOTHING to do with it. After many times of being told she is cold despite the fact she was dripping with sweat, this was the last thing we wanted to hear. We supplemented her with formula, and low and behold she fell into a peaceful sleep.

Outside the hospital, things haven't changed much. All the guys Casey works with on the delivery truck were shocked and appalled when we brought her outside to meet them during our first week home. 

They exclaimed, "What, no..you can't bring her outside! Where is her blanket? Isn't she cold?"

Casey addressed this question by asking them, "Are you cold?"

They responded with "No, of course not."

"Then why would she be?"

After a bit of reflection on their part, "Hmmm, good point."

The question persisted when we took her to church at the Tree of Life Children's Village. All of the kids kept whispering to each other, "Isn't she cold? She must be cold!"

It followed me to Ngombe, where Rylee and I read to a large number of children that are not currently in school. They may not have felt bold enough to voice the question, but I could see the worry in their eyes as I introduced Selah to the crowd.

At first, this obsession with my "cold baby" seemed silly, and maybe a bit annoying...I mean, I am her mother and am quite capable to care for her. But my perspective has since changed. I've come to find out a number of things about babies in the Zambian culture. I've come to find out the why's behind these seemingly nonsensical traditions.  

Did you know while American couples tend to ponder baby names well before the little one arrives,  a Zambian child doesn't typically receive a name until they are 3 months old? Once again, this seemed absolutely absurd to me. How can you go that long without calling your baby by name?

But the sad fact is a large percentage of Zambian babies don't make it past 3 months old. Many times a mother won't even introduce her newborn to the community until after 3 months old because the chance of survival after that point is more likely.

As I look at Selah (who is now about 3 months old), I realize I have never once contemplated the possibility that she wouldn't still be around. The thought hasn't even entered my mind. I think about how beautiful she is, and how much I love her, and how I can't imagine life without her.  I am joyful as she learns to smile, and wait with anticipation for the other milestones I am confident she will reach. But for many Zambian mothers, the first few months are not always marked with such joy but rather with fear. Fear that at any moment this sweet blessing could be taken away.

This realization allows me to view the constant "Isn't she cold?" remarks less as irritating, and more as a genuine sign of concern for her well being. I see the efforts of the Zambian women to wrap their babies tightly, and protect them from the outside world for the first months of their lives and my heart goes out to them. While there are free clinics available to them, they are extremely overcrowded and do not offer the best care.  I try to imagine myself in their situations and am filled with compassion. At times I feel guilty that God allows them to face these struggles, and not me.

But I am frequently reminded that it is not my decision to make. God is sovereign, and challenges us each in many different ways - whether we live in the United States of America or Africa. Our struggles may not always look the same, but through these challenges, we are exposed to different aspects of the character of God... He is FAITHFUL, LOVING, GOOD, MIGHTY, COMPASSIONATE, TRUSTWORTHY, MERCIFUL. Through suffering we encounter God in a way that we otherwise would not. We find a need for something greater and outside of ourselves. And God is eager to meet our every need.

One thing I have found as true is that these women of Zambia are brave and strong, and I am fortunate to live in their midst. I enjoy learning from them and experiencing God with them.

Night and Day

More times than I can count throughout the day, my thoughts are drawn to the stark contrast between life here and life in America. Whether I am stopped at a "robot" (Zambia's word for "stoplight") and am approached by a child clothed in filthy rags begging on the street, or at the grocery store and notice the difference between my basket full of a large variety of foods and the Zambian woman's next to me containing only 4 loaves of bread, or even trying to make small talk conversation with a Zambian in the slums and realizing how often my American brain wants to bring up the topic of food (what did you have for dinner last night, what is your favorite restaurant, what is your favorite food?).

But one of the most impactful, and devastating ways this hits me is when Rylee interacts with the children we serve here. Watching her play, and share God's love with these kids always strikes a place deep in my heart. I can't see these precious interactions and not think about the way their lives have been COMPLETELY different from one another. Her home has been full of love - she has been treasured and has received pretty much everything she could ever desire...while these children often find themselves in circumstances that would best be described as a living nightmare.

There is a particular child here that Rylee has really become attached to. Her name is Concelia. Rylee and Concelia are both 4 years old, and became fast friends the moment they met. They always embrace when they see each other, and generally end up holding hands and making their way to the playground. 

Almost every time I watch them go off together, I am reminded that like many of the children we come across through our work here, Concelia has walked through a darkness no child deserves -- and her story was discovered at Camp LIFE 2012.

 
'You, Lord, hear the desire of the afflicted;
you encourage them, and you listen to their cry,
defending the fatherless and the oppressed, 

so that mere earthly mortals will never again strike terror.'

Here is her story...

In a sea of a thousand Zambian faces, 2 stood out. Like many children in Zambia, Precious was carrying her younger sister, Concelia, on her back. At the young age of 7 years old, Precious had taken on the role of caretaker for little sister – and it took only a short amount of time to understand why.

Concelia had been so brutally raped at the age of three that she wasn’t able to stand due to the pain. As the story of her horrific young life unfolded, we found that multiple men had taken Concelia and used her for their pleasure – leaving her severely hurt, damaged and wounded in every way imaginable.

When Precious was chosen to attend Camp LIFE, she had no choice but to bring her little sister along. The fear of leaving her at home, by herself, was too much to bear. During the week of Camp LIFE, Precious revealed that the girls are double orphans – their father had already passed on and their mother is mentally ill and her whereabouts are unknown. The two girls were living with their elderly grandmother, who was not able to take care of them.

At only 7-years-old, Precious was carrying a burden no child should. So that she could spend just 5 days experiencing the joy of being a kid, our staff took on the responsibility of caring for Concelia each day. We comforted, held, and played games with her – trying in every moment to lift the darkness that filled her eyes. Even though she couldn’t talk about her pain, we could see it weighing on her each day – she had seen and experienced the terror at an unthinkably early age.

I have met many children with these horrendous backgrounds, but somehow it hurts more deeply reflecting on Concelia's story because of how close in age she is with my own daughter. It hits so much closer to home, because even the mere thought of this being Rylee's story is pushed out immediately. My brain can't even try to put my sweet girl in those shoes. But as I watch them play together, and I imagine how drastically Concelia's life has been changed...and I watch her laughing with Rylee, I can see the Lord's work at transformation in her life. It is a blessing beyond words to witness as the Lord uses Rylee's innocence and unconditional love to restore a childhood that rightly belongs to Concelia. To see two girls run, jump, swing, and slide on the playground at the Tree of Life Children's Village. 

It's easy on some days to think, it's all too much...my heart can't keep breaking like this. But stories of hope and healing (like Concelia's) help to reassure me when the task seems too large. God faithfully reminds me of the story of the man on the beach with the starfish....and as I get to know these kids in deeper ways, I have become so aware of the many starfish in my midst. He is faithful to encourage me with their stories of redemption, and the difference my family is making in each of their lives. Even the things that seem small (like spending an hour at the playground), He uses and multiplies in ways that I may never see. The privilege of bringing that kind of "normal" to children that never dreamed they would experience such simple and carefree joy - not much is better!