28 June 2008
a setup trip and today our entire team went for the first time. Knowing that it could be a potentially hard
thing for all of us to experience, we spent some time as a team praying before
we left and I tried to prepare the team as best I could. But how do you really prepare a 16 year old
kid to come face to face with AIDS, abandonment, and potentially death? All they’ve known of the AIDS epidemic in Africa is statistics, but they were about to encounter it
all first hand. As we prayed, there was
some apprehension and anxiousness that was evident by looking at their
faces. I tried to encourage them the
best I could by reminding them why we are here. We talked about how God also calls us to the hard places and how he
wants us to experience a glimpse of the brokenness He feels. So off we went to the hospital.
As we
entered the children’s ward, it was as if a cloud of hopelessness had covered
the entire place and I physically felt the heavines
s as we walked in. The walls had been painted years ago withvibrant colors of cheerful cartoon characters. But the vibrant colors had since faded and the paint was now quite
chipped off. The smell of sickness lingered in the air. Different sounds filled the air as well. Voices speaking in hushed tones of Siswati;
swinging doors squeaking open to take a look at the visitors entering the ward;
the sound of a metal pan clanging against the bare concrete floor; someone down
the hall was listening to music on a small radio; in the back room someone was
washing dishes; once in a while I would hear a baby crying, but not as often as
I’d expect.
down the short hallway I passed each of the 4 rooms where patients were
kept. In each room were 12-15 beds. Not fancy hospital beds with gadgets attached
and whatnot, but bare metal framed out beds with thin foam pads on them as
mattresses. Each bed had a sick child in
it and their mother standing or sitting nearby keeping watch. At night the moms lay on the bare concrete
floor to sleep as they’re allowed to stay with their child.
As I look around and take it
all in, there are some children with burn wounds, casts, bandages, splints, and
slings. They are here temporarily, some
recovering from an injury, accident, or surgery. There were other children with large growths
on their neck or head…seems some type of tumor. There was a room full of very small babies, those not well enough to go
home yet after their birth. In these
patient rooms, the mothers were occupying themselves by reading newspapers,
playing cards, staring out the window, playing with their children. Some of the mothers were nursing their little
ones, others were getting their hair braided by friends or family there. The windows were open and every so often
there might be a breeze blow through the room – but somehow there remained a
stale smell in the room.
entire ward, which surprised me, seeing how many patients there were. The ones I did see were busy washing linens,
dishes, and organizing some papers in a side room. They greeted us quickly, but overall didn’t
seem to mind us being there – they barely noticed.
As I proceeded down the
hallway I came to the last room. It was
not a patient room. It looked more like
a storage room. On one side was many
sinks and the opposite side was lined with cabinets built into the wall. There was 
an outside door leading to an area
where bed linens were hung to dry in the sun. In the middle of the room sat an old picnic table with various items
piled on top. But there were also kids
in this room. There were 4 baby cribs
that had been awkwardly placed against one of the walls. There was a blanket stretched out on the
ground where 4 toddlers sat motionless. The beds were filled with small babies, some sleeping, but many were
awake, just staring into space. There
were also 5 children that were either in wheelchairs or strollers. They were each tied into their chair with
various pieces of fabric or thin blankets – keeping them somewhat upright. These kids were a bit older, probably ages
5-9. There were also a few older
children that were approaching their adolescent years. They were sitting at the picnic table
watching the TV that was chained to the wall in a cage. All of these older kids were mentally and
physically handicapped. Some had been
here for a long time.
I found a
nurse named Faith in this room. She was
busy changing each of the babies. 
One at
a time she would take each baby from their crib or the floor. She would then begin to undress them,
removing layers upon layers of blankets and clothes. She would then change them and redress them
before taking them back to their beds. There was 1 nurse in this room with 13 children. The only physical touch the children
regularly received was when they were being changed.
As I
visited with Faith she told me that this room is where all of the abandoned
babies ended up. Many of them are
handicapped and that’s taboo here – even seen as a curse on the family. A majority of them have AIDS and their
infected mom could not bear the thought of not being able to care for her child
– so she leaves them there.
As our team
made their way around the different rooms, I encouraged them to pick up the
kids and simply love on them. In the
corner was Kirstie overlooking a little girl resting in a crib. You could barely see the girl for all the
blankets wrapped around her but she looked healthy and bright-eyed. As Kirstie picked her up I reached for a
blanket nearby to hand to her. As I
lifted the blanket in that crib, I was startled to find another baby under the
blanket. The baby was so small I
couldn’t even tell he was under the blanket. Out of an opening in the blanket not more than 3 inches in diameter, I
saw a tiny brown face. His eyes were
very dark and sunken in, his head couldn’t have been much larger than a
baseball. 
As I softly stroked his head
of curly black hair there was no movement from his tiny body. I couldn’t even decipher if he was breathing
or not.
Soon Faith came over to get
this baby to change and bathe him. As
Faith started to undress him she began sharing his story with me. And this is where my heart began to
crumble. The more she told me the more I
could physically feel the crushing of my heart. A sinking feeling filled my stomach and tears welded up in my eyes as I
tried to fight them back.
This tiny
boy’s name is Luke. He’s 10 days old and
weighs 1.5 pounds. His mother was very
sick and infected with AIDS when she had him prematurely. She soon left him in the hospital, abandoning
him in hopes that someone would be able to care for him better than she
could. He too is very sick. He’s not eating properly, they don’t think
he’s learned how to drink out of a bottle yet. As Faith undresses Luke I was shocked at what I saw. His wrinkly skin hung from his bones and you
could even see his ligaments. The skin
just hung off of his tiny body. His
torso was smaller than the palm of my hand.
about Luke. As she told me how sick he
was and shook her head, the hopelessness was evident. She said he wouldn’t survive much
longer. He wasn’t eating and there were
some mean looking sores in his mouth. He
opened one of his eyes once and it was completely glazed over. A few times during his bath and changing
little Luke would try to cry – but less than a whimper came out. I could see his lungs struggling to get air
out. As Faith tended to him, her eyes were
full of grief and worry for Luke. From
time to time he would stop moving all together and take awhile to take another
breath. Faith would automatically stop
what she was doing and wait for him to take his next breath. It was then that I realized just how sick
Luke was and even how close to death he was. I fought back tears but was not successful. Faith looked up at me with tears in her own
eyes. We didn’t need words to completely
understand each other in that moment. She finished wrapping layers upon layers of clothes around Luke before
she gently lifted him and placed him in my hands. I was immediately taken back at how light he
was. At 1.5 pounds it felt like I was
holding nothing but a small bundle of blankets. Faith then got Luke a bottle and asked me to try to get him to take some
milk. For the next hour I simply held
Luke. He was so lifeless. He was not at all interested in eating. I just sat there as my heart continued to
break over this little child. I really
couldn’t feel anything else in that moment except for an overwhelming sense of
brokenness.
I found myself just staring at him
the entire time, praying for him. I knew
the best I could do in this moment was to simply love on him, so there I
sat. As the reality of the situation
sunk in, I felt the weight of the hopelessness. I too began to lose hope for little Luke. After what Faith told me, I was convinced
that the next day when we came to the hospital, that Luke would not be
there. As I prayed, somehow the Lord
brought hope into this hopeless situation. I heard Him telling me to “speak life” over Luke. To speak truth about the Father’s love for
him, the great plans God has for him, and to break the lies that have been
spoken over him – lies that would say he is sick and would never be
better. Lies that he was not loved as he
was abandoned. Instead I told him that
he is a fighter and a mighty warrior of God. I told him how much his Father loved him. I encouraged him to drink his milk so he
could grow up and be strong. I told him
about all the fun it is to play outside, to ride a bike, to climb trees, and to
play football with his friends. I told
him that God has a plan for his life and that he is more than a conquer through
Christ.
As I spoke
to him Luke’s right eye opened a bit, followed by his left. For the next 20 minutes he was wide-eyed and
awake. I was able to get him to take
some milk through a syringe, much to the excitement of Faith. Luke and I just had some quality time there
as I continued to speak life over him. He stayed awake the entire time and remained content simply being held
and loved on.
Soon it was
time to leave. The team reluctantly
returned each child to their cribs. With
hands on the children until the last moment and teary eyes we knew we had to
go. Our entire team walked out in
silence overcome by what we 
had experienced here. To say that we’re wrecked would be a vast understatement. What do we do with
this? The only thing we can do is take
it to the Lord. To trust in His
unfailing love and thank Him for showing us a glimpse of His heart today. Through the pain and tears we thank God and
trust Him with these precious lives.
Amidst the
pain and hopelessness in this place – I’m convinced that God has hope, a plan
to prosper each of these children. My
prayer is that the Lord would fulfill His promise for these children. May they know His deep love for them.
