The Poor Helping The Poor
Rosaline is a widow with a heart for orphans. Since her children are all grown, she takes in orphan babies and cares for them like they are her own. She has previously welcomed in two orphans and raised them, and now Sandrine, a twenty-two month old girl, is currently under her wings.
She brought Sandrine to us this week because she had a large, fluid-filled growth on her chin that had advanced rapidly over the past four days. After taking her to a generalist in our town, he recommended further testing in another city, suspecting either an abscess or Burkitt's lymphoma. Rosaline was ready to do whatever it took for Sandrine. I'm not sure there is a limit to her love.
Rosaline needed a day to prepare for the trip, so the following day we returned to the hospital to get the reference that would allow Sandrine to be seen in the nearest pediatric center in Gaoua. We waited, and waited, and waited. In the 105 heat. While the baby cried.
Just when our patience had been tested to the limit, I remembered what I considered to be a funny story, so I tried to insert some comic relief.
"The other day," I began, "I spilled my drink while I was eating dinner. It was a really sweet red Koolaid, but thankfully my rug is red, too, so you couldn't really see it at all. I cleaned it up with a towel and then tossed the towel in the corner, which is where I throw kitchen towels that need to be washed." I continued, "In the middle of the night, I got up to go to the bathroom, and when I switched on the light, I jumped. I looked at gen floor...and there were ants everywhere!"
At this point, I realized that not only had Rebeca been listening to my story, but every other patient and family member waiting outside with us. Everyone started laughing as I explained, "It was like the ants made an announcement in the entire neighborhood that there was enough sugar for everyone! It was an aunt party at my place!"
Shortly after lightening the mood, the doctor called us in and informed us that Sandrine actually needed to go to Ouaga. The level of care that she might need would best be found there, so we changed plans once again and tried to figure out a solution. To send Rosaline, who doesn't speak French and has never been to a city bigger than our small town, would needs lots of help in the big city of Ouagadougou. We frantically searched for someone to accompany her and translate for her, an extra phone to communicate with her, and a spot on the bus...which is actually harder than you might imagine.
To figure all that out, we had to postpone their trip another day while we kept organizing lodging, transport, communication, food, money, and medical needs. The next day, we dropped them off at the bus station. As the bus pulled up, we suddenly remembered that we had left their month's supply of milk at the office! I drove like a madwoman to the office (a friend later mentioned it to me saying, "I saw you driving really fast in town today."), grabbed the milk, and ended up boarding the bus to give it to them, hopping off just in time while it was pulling away.
I had a nervous feeling in my stomach as I watched the bus drive away, knowing that we had done all we could, but the circumstances were still not ideal for this woman to go to the big city with a sick baby and only one member of Sandrine's family who wasn't really our first choice. (This is another story...the discussions we had with the extended family to identify someone to help Rosaline while in Ouaga...it was way too complicated and disappointing.) The man accompanying her was not exactly the most trustworthy person, but he was all we had. Would he leave her and end up wandering the streets? We arranged for a man to pick them up at the bus station, but would he really be there when they arrived? What if he didn't show up? How would they know where to go at the hospital? Would they even be seen? What would we do if they turned them away? Did she even know how to use the phone? Would people help her or take advantage of her?
As Rebeca and I watched them drive away, the only thing left to do was pray. "We can't be with them now," I said, "but God is with them all the way."
Later that night, I called Rebeca for their news. While it was ringing, I muttered aloud in a tone of desperation to Emily, "Please let there not be a problem..."
Rebeca informed me that they had arrived, taken a taxi to the pediatric hospital, received a reference to the largest public hospital in Burkina, and arrived there safely. They had even done a consultation, admitted her, started IV antibiotics, done blood work, and scheduled further testing for the next day. All after-hours. That, my friends, is a miracle. Not understanding the complexities of the medical system here, just trust me on this. It's a miracle.
Even with general bad feelings about the situation, God came through. And he is not done yet.
This reminds me once again that we are called to do what we can and trust God with the rest. He'll take care of it.
The Bible teaches us that God loves widows and orphans. He tells us to care for them, too. I love when the two come together, when widows care for orphans, like in the beautiful story of Rosaline and Sandrine. The lonely caring for the lonely, the outcasts taking care of the outcasts, the poor helping the poor. I'm not sure it gets much more beautiful than that. To me, that's what the kingdom of heaven is all about. For aren't we all poor and broken? I mean, I look at my own life and realize how helpless and broken I am, how little I really have to give on my own. Then I look at the resources of our Father in heaven and realize that I have all I need, "every spiritual blessing in Christ", and I know that I have a treasure in this jar of clay - a treasure to share with the world. The same treasure that Rosaline is giving to Sandrine. Love. And Jesus Christ. Neither one is complete without the other.
Aren't we all equal in God's eyes, doing what we can to live life together and know him better? We can focus on all the differences between our culture and theirs, but at the end of the day, I look in their eyes and I see me. And it makes me want to spend all the love in my heart, money in my pocket, and time in my day on their behalf.
May God use us all, the simple and ordinary, to spend and pour out all that we have to live life together, share burdens and joys, and to be the poor helping the poor. We are all jars of clay - as valueless and ordinary as today's cardboard boxes - with a treasure contained with. A treasure that can change the world.
She brought Sandrine to us this week because she had a large, fluid-filled growth on her chin that had advanced rapidly over the past four days. After taking her to a generalist in our town, he recommended further testing in another city, suspecting either an abscess or Burkitt's lymphoma. Rosaline was ready to do whatever it took for Sandrine. I'm not sure there is a limit to her love.
Rosaline needed a day to prepare for the trip, so the following day we returned to the hospital to get the reference that would allow Sandrine to be seen in the nearest pediatric center in Gaoua. We waited, and waited, and waited. In the 105 heat. While the baby cried.
Just when our patience had been tested to the limit, I remembered what I considered to be a funny story, so I tried to insert some comic relief.
"The other day," I began, "I spilled my drink while I was eating dinner. It was a really sweet red Koolaid, but thankfully my rug is red, too, so you couldn't really see it at all. I cleaned it up with a towel and then tossed the towel in the corner, which is where I throw kitchen towels that need to be washed." I continued, "In the middle of the night, I got up to go to the bathroom, and when I switched on the light, I jumped. I looked at gen floor...and there were ants everywhere!"
At this point, I realized that not only had Rebeca been listening to my story, but every other patient and family member waiting outside with us. Everyone started laughing as I explained, "It was like the ants made an announcement in the entire neighborhood that there was enough sugar for everyone! It was an aunt party at my place!"
Shortly after lightening the mood, the doctor called us in and informed us that Sandrine actually needed to go to Ouaga. The level of care that she might need would best be found there, so we changed plans once again and tried to figure out a solution. To send Rosaline, who doesn't speak French and has never been to a city bigger than our small town, would needs lots of help in the big city of Ouagadougou. We frantically searched for someone to accompany her and translate for her, an extra phone to communicate with her, and a spot on the bus...which is actually harder than you might imagine.
To figure all that out, we had to postpone their trip another day while we kept organizing lodging, transport, communication, food, money, and medical needs. The next day, we dropped them off at the bus station. As the bus pulled up, we suddenly remembered that we had left their month's supply of milk at the office! I drove like a madwoman to the office (a friend later mentioned it to me saying, "I saw you driving really fast in town today."), grabbed the milk, and ended up boarding the bus to give it to them, hopping off just in time while it was pulling away.
I had a nervous feeling in my stomach as I watched the bus drive away, knowing that we had done all we could, but the circumstances were still not ideal for this woman to go to the big city with a sick baby and only one member of Sandrine's family who wasn't really our first choice. (This is another story...the discussions we had with the extended family to identify someone to help Rosaline while in Ouaga...it was way too complicated and disappointing.) The man accompanying her was not exactly the most trustworthy person, but he was all we had. Would he leave her and end up wandering the streets? We arranged for a man to pick them up at the bus station, but would he really be there when they arrived? What if he didn't show up? How would they know where to go at the hospital? Would they even be seen? What would we do if they turned them away? Did she even know how to use the phone? Would people help her or take advantage of her?
As Rebeca and I watched them drive away, the only thing left to do was pray. "We can't be with them now," I said, "but God is with them all the way."
Later that night, I called Rebeca for their news. While it was ringing, I muttered aloud in a tone of desperation to Emily, "Please let there not be a problem..."
Rebeca informed me that they had arrived, taken a taxi to the pediatric hospital, received a reference to the largest public hospital in Burkina, and arrived there safely. They had even done a consultation, admitted her, started IV antibiotics, done blood work, and scheduled further testing for the next day. All after-hours. That, my friends, is a miracle. Not understanding the complexities of the medical system here, just trust me on this. It's a miracle.
Even with general bad feelings about the situation, God came through. And he is not done yet.
This reminds me once again that we are called to do what we can and trust God with the rest. He'll take care of it.
The Bible teaches us that God loves widows and orphans. He tells us to care for them, too. I love when the two come together, when widows care for orphans, like in the beautiful story of Rosaline and Sandrine. The lonely caring for the lonely, the outcasts taking care of the outcasts, the poor helping the poor. I'm not sure it gets much more beautiful than that. To me, that's what the kingdom of heaven is all about. For aren't we all poor and broken? I mean, I look at my own life and realize how helpless and broken I am, how little I really have to give on my own. Then I look at the resources of our Father in heaven and realize that I have all I need, "every spiritual blessing in Christ", and I know that I have a treasure in this jar of clay - a treasure to share with the world. The same treasure that Rosaline is giving to Sandrine. Love. And Jesus Christ. Neither one is complete without the other.
Aren't we all equal in God's eyes, doing what we can to live life together and know him better? We can focus on all the differences between our culture and theirs, but at the end of the day, I look in their eyes and I see me. And it makes me want to spend all the love in my heart, money in my pocket, and time in my day on their behalf.
May God use us all, the simple and ordinary, to spend and pour out all that we have to live life together, share burdens and joys, and to be the poor helping the poor. We are all jars of clay - as valueless and ordinary as today's cardboard boxes - with a treasure contained with. A treasure that can change the world.
You work with some amazing people Ashli! I love "jars of clay" and cardboard boxes.
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