I didn't write this story. In fact, this isn't an extremely recent story now that I think about it, but it's powerful. As I searched through old emails the other day, I happened accross the link to this blog… I was immediately reminded of its content. My friend, Susan Canida, wrote this blog. She is a great friend of mine who has been serving for 3 years now in Burkina Faso.

     After I read this blog, the Lord spoke to me. Clearly. He said, "Dusty, I want you to go to Burkina Faso. I have so much to teach you there." A few months later, I found myself on a flight to a land that seems like nobody has ever heard of. I wasn't prepared for what was to come, but through that trip, the Lord ignited a fire in my heart for missions. This story was one of those matches the Lord used to start that wild fire… Check it out.

     Love yall.

The Will of God

     Yesterday we took a short trip out of town to visit a little girl that I've never met but have followed her story for a couple of years.  What was just a "few" kilometers turned into an entire day ordeal, as we continued "just a little farther" down the road and a little father off the beaten path.  It was a muddy day of downpours, and the roads continued their blessing of muddy potholes and river crossings.  By the time we arrived at the little girl's home, we were forging through footpaths in our Land Cruiser between freshly sown fields.  

     I'm not even sure where we were, but there were a few hills with farms all around, courtyards with mudbrick homes, and an abundance of Baobab trees in all directions.  It was a long and unexpected journey, but it brought us to the home of Wendabo.  

     A couple of years ago, her and her mother showed up at the home of one of my colleagues, asking for some sort of help.  Wendabo was born without arms or legs, and essentially had no future to match.  In a world where your ability to do work reflects your value in society, Wendabo has zero.  

 

     My colleague was unable to help at that time, and had to send the family back on their long journey home.  But the story was etched deep in their hearts and God wouldn't let them rest.  

 

     A little over a year ago, we discussed the possibility of using some of our funds that the Wired Youth Group raised for their annual 30 Hour Famine to help this little girl make it through her childhood.  We'd begun to hear rumors.  Every village the mother and her daughter stayed in, the village leaders tried to give her poison to take the baby's life.  After all, she had no future and was merely a burden.  She was considered a curse to the villages, and the mother was constantly on the move to save her baby girl's life.  The youth group quickly decided to be an advocate for this girl and to believe that every life is valuable.  In a way, we're all handicapped like this girl, and we all need someone stronger than us to bring us to life.  For this girl, our hope was to not only give her life but to give her physical life long enough to know spiritual life.  

 

     We raised enough funds to give this girl a chance, giving her and her mother a monthly allotment of food, as well as supplementary resources if she became ill or has another emergency. Eventually we'd hoped to give her the chance to be educated and given tools to be able to use the stubs of limbs that she has.

 

     It took a lot of work to find the little girl after the funds were raised.  We commissioned the help of our development arm of the national church here in Burkina (ACCEDES) and they partnered with the government and police to track down the girl. She had moved around so much that the job of finding her took nearly 6 months.  We received confirmation finally that they had found her and made sure they communicated what the group had done, publicly to send a statement to the village that this girl's life was to be protected.

 

 

     As we entered the courtyard and our shoes sank deep in the mud, I just pondered all that had happened over the past few years to bring us to this place.  Sometimes it's hard to justify such an effort for one who has so little hope in the world.  Sometimes it's hard to see that something that has so little value in the world's eyes has so much value in God's eyes.  It's just hard to see with our human eyes.  But we chose to take a risk and see how God would work His miracles.

 

     The next few minutes we stood in the rain, exchanging introductions and preparing to present Wendabo with her gifts.  I watched her mother bring her little girl out and set her on a dirty cloth on the muddy ground.  It felt a little awkward at times, a group of white people standing there staring at this handicapped girl and taking photos. But somehow it was okay.  I wanted to capture the humanity in this little girl, her beauty that was beyond her handicap.  

 

     We presented her with a wheelchair, a vital gift to help her as she grows too big to carry.  She sat in it proudly, as my colleagues children presented her with gifts: a stuff deer and a necklace.  The locals thought the deer was a frog, but after a few minutes it didn't matter what it was as Wendabo wrapped what arms she had around the fuzzy toy.

 

     As the necklace was put around her neck, she worked her finger to pull it up to her face to see this new treasure.  And then she smiled.  Her face lit up as she began to feel love and value.  Her mind opened as she learned to blow bubbles, and she glimpsed a moment of a "normal" life.

 

 

 

     Our time at her home had to be brief, as we were already several hours behind and the rain did not allow us to linger.  The development director presented her mother with a cell phone, to call the nearest town if Wendabo was ever sick and needed care.  And with many thank yous and smiles and greetings and a few final prayers for her health and salvation, we were allowed the road.

 

     What are you supposed to feel after seeing a situation like that?  How are you supposed to respond?  I know I had a small part in letting this girl see another year of life – I know there are many who will never know the full extend of the part they played when they gave the funds and prayed for this girl.  Should I be proud?  Should we have invested our money elsewhere?  Is this just a story of pity and exploitation?

 

     I don't think so.

 

     The name Wendabo comes from two Moore words meaning: "God's will."  When Wendabo was in her mother's womb, it was the will of God.  When He formed her, he allowed parts to not grow as they should.  I won't have a theological debate here about God's will – but I do know that her life is the will of God.  Her mother believed that and fought to keep her baby alive when everyone was against her. We believed that and fought to do what was in our power to keep her alive as long as we are able.

 

     And as each one of us are crippled without Christ, He did all in His power to give us life and value.  It is His will for each of us, and we respond to that by extending that love to everyone we come into contact with.  It is God's will that we walk this earth with two good legs or no legs at all.  It is God's will and desire that we know Him.  Wendabo is one in a billion stories displaying the glory and the will of God in weakness.  I am no better than her because I have arms and legs.  The story's not about me anyway.  

     I think it's more about the will of God working in our lives.  And I'm excited to see where He takes Wendabo.  I'm excited to see where He takes me.