After measles and a few days hooked up to an IV in a bed 6 times her size, 2-year-old Sena was ready to come home. A friend and I walked quickly into the hospital excited to see her sweet face. We passed laundry lines full of mismatched sheets, blankets, and towels, most of which contained holes and stains. Four rooms, with multiple beds and patients in each, encircled a small office area surrounded by benches. Sena sat on her house moms lap on one of the benches, still a little lethargic, but happy to see us. Dirty glass windows allowed me to see inside of the patient rooms; IV bags hung off hooks on the walls, dirty towels and sheets were stashed in the corners. Infants were bundled alongside their mothers, their beds next to hacking and wheezing older men. Plastic grocery bags held their belongings underneath their mattresses.
We were told we had to wait a few more hours before we could head back to the compound with Sena. We made a trip out the back to use the restroom but were caught off guard on our way back in. Several people were sobbing, praying, and seemingly very distraught.
We stood watching their hearts break, praying for peace, praying for God to make himself known in this grief. For the first time since we landed in Ethiopia, nobody was yelling, “Ferenji” our direction or asking the white people for money. They just allowed us to sit next to and pray with them. Behind the growing crowd of devastated men and women, I watched as 3 doctors lifted the thin, limp body of a young woman onto a rusted gurney. They covered her with a few sheets, tightly tucking the edges as the sobbing from inside became louder. I watched in shock, as the doctors rolled the gurney out the door, down the path, through at least 30 people, and back towards the border of the hospital complex. Outside of the gates, an entire community was grieving for this young woman. A casket was eventually brought out, the young girls body placed inside and then escorted off the grounds.
Have you ever been in so much emotional pain that the only thing you can do is fall to the floor and scream? Imagine this happening to at least 80 people. The immense amount of agony, sadness, and confusion that lingered in the hospital for the next few hours was impossible to ignore. As Sena fell asleep in my arms the only thing I could think was what if that had been her. I’ve only known this 2-year-old for three weeks and even the thought of her slipping away made me want to vomit. I couldn’t, and can’t, imagine what that community was going through after watching what I had watched.
It’s hard to imagine God not being present in times like these. I’d imagine if He wasn’t apparently there we would all have a lot of trouble finding reasons to continue on. Today made me so grateful for a lot of things; Jesus, amazing hospitals, peace and prayer, Job’s example of ‘all I need is You’ through pain and suffering, and God’s promises and plans.
Pain and suffering is hard to watch. It’s even harder to go through.
Thank you Jesus for your ultimate sacrifice.
