She stands under a tree, in the shade on this hot day in Mozambique, a few yards from her wailing babies. She looks away towards the neighbor’s house in the distance, wondering where the next meal will come from. They both cry. Louder. She tries to cover her ears. Twins. They were born over a year ago, but they look to be only a few months old; bodies fighting against all odds to thrive on less than a dollar of food a day. We pull up to check on her and she barely waves back. The worry lines seem thicker on her forehead than I remember from last week. I hop off the back of the motorbike and Pastor asks her why she isn’t with her babies? I start walking towards the little ones while they talk. She says something I can’t understand, not because he doesn’t translate it well to me, but because it’s been five months now and I still can’t comprehend the condition she was in…probably still is in. She said that she was standing there, away from her babies, because she had no more food to give them; she said she couldn’t help them. She had nothing. No food. No water. I grabbed one of them and Pastor held the other. Their tears were flowing down and only seemed to let up slightly as we tried to soothe them. The mother walked towards us and her features changed from concerned to hard to resigned. This is just the way it is for them and she’s run out of options. I had no clue what to say or do.
So I prayed.
I kept praying and I have been praying for them since that day. We stayed only for a moment as we were on our way to visit another family with a child who’d suffered from a burn on her arm. After praying with them, we sped down the narrow dirt paths that led us back to the school; the place I had called home for that month. I ran to the outdoor kitchen where all our meals had been prepared. The ‘sisters’ who did the cooking looked at me oddly as I just grabbed everything I could find and threw it into a big mesh grocery bag. There was still food from lunch and I asked if I could take it, too. They nodded, bewildered, but also understanding. They had, after all, allowed us to feed the nearby family and their sweet 3 year old son, Julio, every day since we met him. Pastor asked what I was doing? I told him I was taking it to Angelina. He nodded. It was our last day there and in a few minutes I would have to climb in the back of a truck and say goodbye to this place. I had knots in my stomach.
The whole way walking there I fought the tears that just wanted to pour out from a broken piece of my heart. The two plates loaded with rice and cabbage and the large grocery sack seemed like a terrible afterthought. Why did I not do this sooner? Why didn’t I think to bring them food before today, our last day here? I knew their situation was bad, but the direness of it hadn’t registered until today. How full my stomach has been all this time while their’s have been constantly growling. Constantly. I can’t even imagine that, but this is not the only family in this village facing such hardships. It is all too common for single mothers in this village to find themselves in these types of situations; husbands who have abandoned them or died and have left them with several mouths to feed. Babies carrying newborn babies on their backs. Men with multiple wives and not enough money to pay for even one of their families. It is a heartbreaking situation, but it doesn’t mean I can’t still help.
I walked up to her with the food held out in both my hands. Her older daughter is back from the neighbor’s and she holds one of the babies. The other is held by the mother who looks at me. That look I can’t describe fully, there aren’t words. She half smiled and seemed to be inspecting me, suspicious, but a thought seemed to pass through her mind and then the smile grew bigger. She ordered the daughter to get a pot and the little girl ran quickly to the mud hut to grab one off the table we had helped build for her earlier that week. She runs back and we put the food in it. I hand her the grocery sack and my friend, Amber, translates in Portugese the plan we had made with Pastor: a few of us left at the school had pooled what cash we had and gave it to Pastor to buy enough groceries to get them through the month. He intends to finds out pronto what has happened to the monthly provisions she used to receive. Angelina nods and still looks at me like I’m nuts. I ask my friend to ask her if this is okay? And to tell her I’m sorry it isn’t more. She translates and Angelina grabs me. She hugs me so tight and I fight the tears harder. I know it’s not enough. I ask if I can pray with them, she nods. I touch the babies and the Holy Spirit unites us all together in that moment. One I’ll never forget.
We walk back to the school and I walk to stand under the shade of the coconut tree while we wait a few more minutes for the truck. I see Julio in the distance, hiding behind another bundle of banana trees. My heart! This little one we have been feeding almost every meal all month and I can’t stand the goodbye. Why didn’t I think to feed that family, too? I pray. Harder. “Lord, make up for where I lack. Make those food provisions last 10 times longer than they should. And may the nutrients bring radical growth and strength to those children. Be here. Stay here. Show them your provision; your hand of mercy and grace.” The truck pulls up and I climb in the back. Julio blows a kiss and my heart is full. Even though I know there was more I could do, I did something and the Lord is in that place. His love found those people we met.
These memories are still so fresh now, six months later. And this past week they have been entering my thoughts more and more. I still pray for them every moment I think of them and it all makes me question the Lord. It’s okay, I know He can handle it, but I can’t. Too many ‘why’ questions come to mind when I started thinking about all the hunger and pain in the world. Pain in the form of hunger but also entrapment; people caught in slavery because their families were so hungry they were forced to sell loved ones. Not because they wanted to, but because they were left with no choice and no way to provide for them. Starve another child and watch them die or hope they find a way out? I don’t know what’s worse and I can’t fathom having to make such a decision. All over the world this is the case. There are approx 27 million people in slavery, people who may never know a single act of kindness from another person their entire lives. And 20% of our entire world population is living on less than a dollar a day. Those aren’t made up numbers; those are real numbers that involve real people, some of whom I have met. Some in those villages in Mozambique. One of them Angelina and her three children. I may not be able to end world hunger or get people out of slavery, but I can help one. They are worth the fight.
When you finally recognize your worth, you realize the worth of others, too. And when you know your worth and the value you have in the eyes of the Lord, you begin to fight for others to see their’s, too. It kind of works both ways, though. Understanding that those around you are valuable and precious brings with the the realization that you are, as well.
There are people all over the world who don’t realize their worth; that they are valued and beloved children of God. They won’t find out by us holding it all to ourselves. The look Angelina gave me that day wasn’t just gratitude. It was the disbelief that she was worth it to me. She didn’t know her value until someone stepped outside of themselves and showed it to her. I’ve recently realized that I needed this at one point or another in my life, too. My view of the Lord has been tainted because of lies I’ve believed from people who have loved, hurt, and disappeared from my life. It left me feeling as though I wasn’t worth the fight and that the Lord’s love was the same. It isn’t. And He has brought people into my life who consistently show up and prove that I am worth it. Who remind me I am loved and point me to the Lord. Who are those people in your life? How are you fighting for them? We all have value. Sometimes, we just need someone to remind us of that truth. It’s not a secret. Our Father wants us to know how precious we are to Him. And I’m thankful to all the people in my life who have done that for me and to the Lord for putting them there.
