The director of UMOJA loving on the kids. It was a beautiful picture of a fathers love, not for his orphans, but for his children. He loved them with his whole being.

That little smile I can’t

get out of my head. Her tiny little teeth glowed against her dark skin. Her eyes penetrated my soul. Before I even

had time to reach my arms out to her she had hers in the air. She just wanted to be loved

and touched. She was not one of the orphans, but was a

neighboring child that played at the orphan home all hours of the day. Her clothes were more worn than the orphans, and her odor was much stronger. None of that mattered. The feeling of that little hand grabbing and clinging to mine was all that I could think about. I picked her up and immediately her arms went around my neck. She loved to stare into my eyes. I stared right back, smiled, and tickled her malnourished belly. Her feet were so small and rough from never owning a pair of shoes. I loved those little feet. I grabbed each toe and played little piggy. It was a game that she was familiar with, because by the time I got to the smallest little toe she was bracing herself knowing what was to come next. She giggled and her whole buddy crumbled against mine.

This past week Reika and I spent most of our time at UMOJA, another orphan home. The one thing that I really loved about this home was all of the small children. Most of the older children were at school, but there were about six 4-5 year olds and six 6- 7 year olds. The children were so precious and easy to love. We split up our time between playing with the children and helping the director of the orphanage get the home registered. The love that the director has for the children in his home was so evident. Whenever a child came into the office in tears he would stop whatever he was doing to mend to the children. He always spoke to them in a soft, tender filled voice. He would put his hands on them, kiss them, and by the time they were walking out of the office they were always laughing. He would go outside with them and throw them into the air. The children would line up in a perfect line, and right before they were to be thrown into the air their faces looked as if they could not hold the excitement in any longer. The children would run to him when he would return from lunch. He always had at least two little hands clinging to his. It was such a beautiful picture of our Father’s love for us. Even though we were orphans God does not see us that way anymore. He longs to be

holding air hand. He doesn’t want us to fear when he throws us up in the air, because he has always promised to catch us. All he asks of us is to love him, and trust him. Why is that so hard for so many of us to do…myself included?

We also worked in the hospital a little. Some people have asked me if I have grown numb to all the difficult cases that I am dealing with in the hospital. The answer to this question is NO. I have become stronger, but not numb. I’m sure it’s possible, but I don’t know how anyone could become numb to the cases that Reika and I see in the hospital. On Friday I had another case that broke my heart. It was a five year-old baby girl in the pediatrics ward. Chuck Bemm gave us a brief history before we spoke to the mother, “The client is a five-year old girl who was brought in for severe malnutrition. The mother is HIV+ and did not know that her daughter was also HIV+ until she brought her into the hospital a few days ago. The mother has five boys and one girl. This little girl is her prized possession, and after speaking with her one can tell that she adores her. See if you can talk to them and figure out a little more about their story and situation.” The first thing that I noticed about the mother was how beautiful her face was. The second thing I noticed was the concern in her eyes. We asked her about her home situation and how her daughter was eating. The mother informed us she had no food, and she noticed her daughter was getting very small but had no money to bring her to the hospital. “How much does she weigh?” I asked. “She weigh’s 10 pounds.” I was sitting on the end of the mother’s bed and rested my hand on the mother’s legs in means of providing some comfort. She then pulled back the covers that were hiding the frail little body. After touching her little hand the mother pulled up her baby’s shirt, took my hand and asked me to feel her stomach. I knew her situation was not looking very positive when I saw every rib sticking out, and her skin was so thin that I could actually see her organs. The mother kept saying, “Please just feel how hard her stomach is. What does that mean? Is she going to be okay?” Not really knowing what to say I informed her that the doctors were going to try their best to help her get well again. After trying to encourage her, without giving her false hope, I asked to pray for her. Without any hesitation she said, “yes, please do.” As I rested my hands on her baby the mother rested her hands on mine. Even though she could not understand the exact words of my prayer I knew that she could understand exactly what I was saying. I now pray to God and ask you to pray that her baby is healed.