A baby cries as we enter a 8’x8′ livingroom in a small brick and plaster home off a dry dirt road. The feeling that sets in my stomach is hopelessness.
Mandy is a mother of two. A now single mother after her divorce. She doesn’t have a job, because it’s extremely hard to find one here, especially for a female. One man told me only 2.8% of the Zimbabwe population is employed. I believe it after living here. Zimbabweans are intelligent, hardworking, well educated people, but government restrictions shut businesses down quickly and I speculate that that has a great impact on the economy.
So, being a single mother in a one bedroom home with no kitchen, three mouths to feed, and no prospects for employment in a bankrupt country, Mandy admits she’s “miserable.”
She’s one of many.
Another story that makes my stomach drop is that of 15 year old Simbarashe. His name means “power of God,” yet the moment I met him, he was lying on the floor in the doorway of his home; helpless.
He’s in the late stages of AIDS.
His mother passed HIV to him in the womb and that HIV has manifested itself into full blown AIDS. I’ve never seen someone slowly die.
He’s a beautiful soul trapped in an emaciated body. He looks like a Holocaust victim. You can see his eye sockets buldge, because that’s how skinny he is. His skull is the largest part of his body. There isn’t a thing he can do to stop this or subside the pain. We pray that he has comfort in his final days and that his mom can stay strong through the process of caring for him 24/7.
He did nothing to deserve this.
We do home visitations everyday and I’ve become discouraged. Lately, I’ve been filled with doubt and defeat. We walk for miles, enter a small home, hear about the family’s struggles, then pray. People ask us to pray for them and I’m at a loss for words.
After weeks of this, I’m overwhelmed with their despair. I notice myself becoming numb- almost in a stunned state, like a moth that flew too close to the light. “I can’t help them,” runs through my mind on repeat.
To me, prayer doesn’t feel like enough.
Can’t we build them a house?
Can’t we find a way to get them to a hospital with better care?
Can’t we fundraise to pay their school fees?
Can’t we help them afford a passport to find work in another country?
Can’t we stay here and use our influence to help make their lives easier?
No. Those things would give them some comfort, but it wouldn’t solve their problems.
For the most part, they have enough to survive, but not to thrive.
They need encouragement, faith, and hope that things will get better.
The fact that we have been called to the other side of the world -over 10,000 miles from home- and wound up at their doorstep in this small town in Zimbabwe to pray for them is enough.
We are a testament of God’s faithfulness.
You can see it when their faces light up as they welcome us in with a big hug.
They feel remembered and loved when we stop by. To know that their friends from America care and are actively praying for them.
Our teachings, ladies meetings, home visits, preachings, and testimonies are enough to inspire them and give them hope for the moment and that’s all we can do in this situation.
I quickly forget the power of prayer. I want to see tangible results. I want to be able to save people, but that’s not what he created me for.
He created me to help and encourage, but He’s the one who saves.
One day soon, Simbarashe will be with the Father. He’ll have his strength back in Heaven and he’ll rejoice with his dad. He’ll be free from pain.
I have to remember all of the prayers He’s answered in my own life.
There is desperation, but God’s promises are more abundant than that desperation.
Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours. Mark 11:24
And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it. John 14:13-15
—Yesterday Simbarashe passed away. He is free from pain with his Father now. Dancing up in Heaven with my sweet Barbara.
