John and I walked through the crowded dirt road; goats,
chickens, and children lined the walls. We followed the women and two children who had grabbed us after
church. We didn’t even know their names. The women had asked us to come and pray for a child who was sick. We finally reached our destination and
stepped into the home. It took a moment
for my eyes to adjust to the dense smoke that filled the home, from the burning
charcoal.
At first glance I saw two children; one with a severe burn on
her arm and so my immediate assumption is 
that we would be praying for her. But
then the mother turned more and faced me and John and in her arms a tiny
bundle. In her arms was Gladys. A frail one and half year old with tb. They put her in John’s arms and we both
prayed for her. Her beautiful brown
eyes, oversized compared to her body, moved back and forth between the two of
us.
Images of concentration camp victims ran through my
head. Images that you find on the
history channel and in text books filled my mind trying to relate her to
something I have already seen. But I realized that this was no text book, no
history channel special, it wasn’t a story about a man, woman, child that I had
never met. This moment was a harsh dose
of reality; a moment where I held death in my arms.
I wanted to push this child away, for a reason still unknown to me…fear, but as
we prayed something in me broke. I kept repeating “God is so good” in my head
and as we finished and gave her back to her mother I felt a peace. I allowed that moment, that image to sketch
itself on my heart.
God continue to heal Gladys, heal her body, please use her
to be a testimony of your love and mercy. May she be a witness to those in her community as she grows strong and
begins to walk; that people would have no doubt that it is you who healed
her. But God if your will is for her to
pass, I pray that her parents would still testify to your goodness.
