I imagine that December is probably the hardest month to be
away from home. I never get too homesick
because I know I am where God wants me and I’m fulfilled every day doing His
work, but there is definitely a difference being away from home for Christmas
than just being away during any other month. December is just so rich in family, and cultural, traditions. I miss the cold weather that fills the air
and contrasts so nicely with the warmth of the church and the malls as everyone
bustles about with joy (and stress) trying to get those final gifts. I miss picking out the Christmas tree with
the family and adorning it with all the ornaments collected and saved over the
years, each with a special memory. I am
going to miss watching “It’s a Wonderful Life” with the family on Christmas Eve
after the candlelight service which concludes with “Silent Night” as the church
spreads from darkness to a graceful glow. I am going to miss waking up Christmas morning, sharing a big American breakfast
with my mom, dad, and sister as Christmas songs fill the house. And yeah, ok, I’ll admit it. I’m going to miss the gifts – giving and
receiving.
This is what I left behind. Now I would like to share how God has blessed me with the opportunity to
experience the greatest Christmas gift of my life. In fact, it is the gift of life. A new life for a twelve year old boy named
Alan.
December 18th – 3:30 pm: We had just returned from our extended lunch
break in between morning and afternoon sessions of the week-long conference we’ve
been holding at the church. Now the vast
majority of regular attendees at this church are street children, hardened by
the trials of life and usually high off sniffing glue. Many times it’s hard to feel like you’re getting
through to them. They praise the Lord
and sing the songs, but the glue bottles never leave their mouths/noses. We have been trying to take baby steps ever
since we got here, and at least get them to set the glue bottles down outside
as they come in. To do just that, they
fight kicking and screaming. Usually,
they just keep the bottles with them, hidden in their sleeves, inside their
pants or wherever else they can store them. However, as our main contact, Pastor William, has told us, “If they really
had a way out, they would drop the glue bottles in a second.”
As I’m
walking back into the church, a young street kid approaches me. Obviously something is wrong and he’s trying
to communicate, but he doesn’t really know any English. Finally, I get him to show me his left hand,
where there is a gash running all the way from the first big crease of his palm
below his pinky down to just above the wrist on the palm. We later determined that he had been cut by a
knife in a fight – and the cut is deep. Not only is it deep, but it is incredibly
dirty and looks like it is becoming infected. I run inside and ask Marisa if we have a first aid kit. Now a Band-Aid would not have fixed anything,
but I had to try to do something! She
didn’t know if we did, and so then I turned to Jessica who was right in front
of her and is our certified nurse of the squad. Each of them followed me outside to survey the damage. Within a minute, Jessica had run to the store
with Erin in search of medical supplies –
which she miraculously found incredibly easily and cheaply. I stayed behind, watching and comforting him
as Marisa tried to do a little cleaning with water before the other girls got
back.
When
Jessica got back a few minutes later, we began what was probably the scariest
and most miserable moments of this kid’s life. She scrubbed the cut with soap and water, disinfected it with iodine and
alcohol. And then tried to inject him
with numbing medicine so she could stitch it up. I’ll just say that the syringe she planned on
using for this injection was no small needle and I would have been a little
shaky about someone using it on me. Now
put yourself in Alan’s shoes, full of unbearable pain and surrounded by a bunch
of mzungus (white people) trying to stick this thing in him. He was screaming bloody murder, jerking his
arm away and tears were running down his cheeks at just the very thought of
it. After two and a half hours of
patiently trying, we eventually concluded that we couldn’t do it because he was
resisting too much, so Jessica disinfected it the best she could, then pulled
the Band-Aids tight over it, trying to pull the cut together like stitches as
much as possible. And we prayed over the
infection.
December 19th – morning: Alan found us when we arrived. Jessica looked at it a little bit and then
Marisa went with him to try to get things from the store. The rest of the story is Marisa’s to tell, as
she was the one who went with him and took care of everything else. Long story short, Alan was asleep on our
couch when the rest of the group returned home from the day and Marisa was
sitting beside him with a sparkle in her eyes. “He started the day as a street kid. Now he can just be a kid again. We found him a home.” Just read that again, take a deep breath and
let it settle, and praise our God who loves his children and chooses
them. Alan spent the rest of the night
surrounded by our group of 20 white people, probably not sure where to even
begin processing the last twenty-four hours. He ate and he ate and he ate. We
spoiled him rotten tonight for his first night off the streets in 3 years and
there is a peace that has settled in his eyes and expression. For the entire night, I can barely keep from
tearing up every time I look at him – and every time I reflect on how great is
our God. Jessica said he’ll probably
have a pretty nice scar. My
response: “That’s probably a scar he’ll
be happy to have forever.”
December 20th – Alan moves into his new
home. Of course this is not the end of
the story and we can not just say “happily ever after.” It will be a transition and there will be
bumps in the road. But God has given him
“hope and a future.” God plucked
him off the streets and gave him a home. This Christmas, one Kenyan boy was given the gift of a new life and
chance to start over. This present was
wrapped in heaven and signed, “Your Father.” As for me, I just cannot stop praising God for allowing me just to be a
witness to a true transformation in someone’s life. Alan hasn’t stopped smiling all day.
Oh yeah – On the way home Friday, Alan dropped the glue
bottle. It’s gone for good now.
Please see Marisa Banas’ blog for more details. It will be up shortly. Also, if you would like to support Alan this
Christmas season, just send us emails and we’ll work something out. He needs money now for clothes, to help his
new family as they take him in, and for school.
