Our team of 7 was 3 for the day. We went to the care point like usual and was excited to see the beautiful faces that have the biggest smiles. It was going to be a great day.
We get there and the kids have already eaten, so clearly its time to play. How long you ask? For 5 hours. Underneath the hot Swazi sun, with no playground or books to read, just dirt and two soccer balls running on E. It’s okay today is still going to be a great day because Baby G is smiling.
2 hours in, two toddlers fall asleep in a cement tunnel. It’s cute at first and then I wonder why no one opens the church so they can sleep there. Baby G has a poopy diaper and I ask if he can be changed. They say no. Baby G smells bad, like real bad. I’m trying to figure out why the heck you would have a baby sit in his poop all day. But possibly more than that, I’m trying to figure out why he is still smiling and not crying like the kids in the states. 30 minutes later they call him inside and my heart begins to smile. They’re going to change him and he is going to be able to move and run like 2 year olds should. Or maybe he’s 1.5. I really wanna say he’s 15 because he literally walks 1 mile to get to this care point everyday. Like its his little legs moving and his little feet hitting the pavement everyday to get from place to place. No wonder he falls asleep on me every time I hold him.
Anyways, back to him getting changed. He comes out of the building and then sits with us as we sing songs and play with the others. By this time, Caroline has had a kid pee on her. It’s funny in the moment. Baby G is on the ground playing with dirt and rocks and is completely content with his life. As his big sis, I am completely happy that he is happy. 2 minutes later, Mando makes a movement and ends of kicking Baby G in the head and Baby G hits his head on a rock. My heart sinks even just typing that out. Teagan goes over, picks him up and consoles him, because my arms are full. 5 minutes later his older sister comes and takes him behind the building to make sure that he is okay. Something smells weird. Teagan looks down and poop is smeared on her. I go around the building to make sure they’re okay. I come across his pants, you can tell new, that are completely covered in poop. When I thought they changed him, they took away the diaper and replaced it with nothing.
I’m PISSED. Someone call CPS. Someone call the parents so they know how badly these kids are being treated. How they just pee on the side of buildings because no one monitors their restrooms. How they get one meal a day and leftovers go in gross tupperware. We need to all go by diapers and wet wipes so this never happens again. We need to go by soap and teach them how to wash their hands. This is why I’m here, to fix everything..right?
The next day happens. We go back to the care point and I am ready to fix things. 2 hours in a kid gets a bloody nose. I want to cry because his blood is a shade of red you’d find in watermelon. It’s bright. He has no nutrition and it’s pouring. I can’t touch him because he could have Hep A/B or C, HIV/AIDS or whatever else is out there. I can only say things in my language that would make me feel better if I was in his situation. “It’s okay buddy. Can you tilt your head back? I know it hurts, but we’re going to be okay.” He doesn’t even understand or speak English.
He leaves to go to the clinic 15 minutes away. I go into a closet and weep. I miss my mom and her lap and her patting my head when I cry. I tell God my frustrations. I ask Him what I’m supposed to do. I start to wonder if anything I am doing is making a difference or is it just a drop in the ocean.
“Daughter, I see you and I see them. I weep with you. I am here with you. I am not far from you.” I feel this odd sense of closeness and my arms get pushed together like I’m receiving a hug from the back. Could it be that God is this close? “Daughter, I am that close, always. I sent you here to love. But not only to love, but to love like I have loved you. Remember when I held you even when you were covered in sin and ashamed. Hold them like that. When they are covered in drool, poop, pee, snot, hold them with love. Speak over them things that will glorify me. Speak over them what their future holds, that they will live and not die. That they will see My goodness here in the land of the living. Love them like that. Love them even though it’s not tangible. Love them even though it is frustrating to do so. Love them because that is what you were sent here to do.”
My current occupation is to love. That’s literally all I was sent here to do. If I love people enough I will tell them about Jesus or better yet show them Jesus. And sometimes its a crappy job that produces nothing at first but pain and fatigue. But if you push past that and press into God, when its time to leave all you can say is, I did my job and loved them well.
