Jimboy’s story
December found me in the Philippines this year. This month my team of women worked with a ministry known as Kids International Ministries in Tacloban, Philippines. The place here is called “The Lighthouse”, and I really couldn’t think of a more appropriate name for it. To a community still reeling from the tragedy of Typhoon Yolanda, this ministry serves as a center of hope and joy. There are things such as Awana programs for kids, after school programs, sports camps, and a small preschool. Construction is ongoing to also host a full grade school and clinic. It’s amazing to see, really, and I’m so glad to have had a chance to have a part in it.
One thing the staff also does is take buckets of food to some of the poorest communities around. A group of us would drive to a community, park on the side of the road, and yell the word “lugaw” (the word for the pooridge we handed out). Little feet would scurry down the street and hungry faces would line up, holding up whatever they had for us to put food in. The food is so hot but that didn’t matter to them. You could see them just drinking it straight from the bowl or cup or pitcher. In one community, Ate Beryl, one of the staff here, asked if I would come take a look at a boy she knew who was sick. I quickly agreed and we took off in search of him.
For some of you who aren’t aware, Typhoon Yolanda was a completely devastating storm that destroyed most of Tacloban. There are stories of dead bodies piling the streets, homes washing away, and churches collapsing. Most of the homes built after Yolanda were small but simple. Mostly made out of tin or wood with dirt floors. This community’s homes were made out of left over Samaritan’s Purse tarps from the storm. There was a group of about ten children who peeked out their heads from behind the makeshift door. They were in the middle of scarfing down their lugaw but stopped to see what we were doing. Inside I could see a small bench and table for eating. There was a concrete slab for a floor and cardboard mats for sleeping. In front of the house was Jimboy.
Wearing a torn shirt, he stood with three fingers in his mouth crying. It had been raining and a few drops dripped off the tarp onto his head. Ate Beryl tried to speak softly to him, but he just continued to cry. He looked to be about three years old. I got as close as I could without frightening him. I noticed the top of his scalp seemed to have open scabs underneath his hair that was oozing with pus.. a lot of it. His left eye was almost swollen shut, and other sores seemed to be breaking out on his body. Sometimes you don’t realise you have a heart until it breaks.
We stood there for a few minutes and talked with the other kids. We learned that their parents worked the rice fields out behind their shack. No, they didn’t go to school. Yes, most of them were related. We came back to the Lighthouse and I told Ate Veryl that it looked like he had an infection. I asked what it would look like to take him to see a doctor and if medical care was expensive. She said she knew a place and that we could take him the next day if we wanted. The next day we went back and asked his mom if we could take her and Jimboy to see a doctor. We ended up going to a nearby hospital and waiting most of the day to get seen. I watched Jimboy as we sat in the waiting room. This little boy was almost three yet he wasn’t wanting to walk, he barely looked around, and barely ate. I listened as the doctor prescribed antibiotics. I watched as the staff put their money together to buy her formula for her other child and food for her and Jimboy. When we dropped them off back at their place I went over the instructions for the medicine again. We talked about boiling water before drinking it. Then we left.
After a week, I asked the staff if we could go back. It was the day before Christmas Eve and I’m sure they had other things they could have been doing, but instead they graciously agreed to go back. But first, we made a trip to the market where we picked up some groceries and simple clothes about the kid’s size. When we pulled up, the kids ran to meet us and Mom’s face lit up with joy. We were delighted to see that Jimboy’s eye wasn’t swollen anymore. His scabs were healing, and most importantly he was walking and talking and doing things! We all had so much joy, watching him play. It felt like even though there were so many problems around us, we had a moment to celebrate goodness. Graham Cooke once said, “God will break your heart. But the amazing thing is, when He puts it back together, you have a bigger heart.” God, break our hearts for what breaks Yours.
