This is the little girl I kept thinking about today. My kids were sick. Zane was actually pretty sick-much sicker than the other two. We had to wait so long to see the doctor that his ibuprofen wore off. He curled up in my lap, trembling from the fever. When the nurse took his temperature, it was 102 under his arm. Then he started throwing up. At the doctor, in the van, in the Publix parking lot while we waited on our prescriptions to be filled. I knew, though, once I got some medicine in him, he'd be fine. And I kept thinking about this little girl.
I do tend to feel guilty about everything, and today was no different. "Why do I live here, in this country?" was what kept running through my head. We struggle with insurance issues with being self employed, but I don't feel that I have the right to complain about that. I knew with out a single doubt that my kids would get the help they needed, and that they'd be fine in 24 hours or so.
But that's just not the case in so much of the world. This little girl almost died, and all she needed was some of the same medicine that my kids had today. I walked into a drug store, where the shelves were lined with the stuff. It's all I could think about. This kind of stuff can make you feel pretty crazy. When you want to cry in CVS over the children's pain reliever that lines the shelves, you don't feel like everybody else. :)
So I spent a lot of time today thanking God for the simple things I take for granted. Medical care. My precious, gentle doctor who always sees my kids and makes them better. For the pharmacist that was so kind, saw my predicament with a 3 year old throwing up and rushed to get my meds as soon as she could. For the *FREE* medicine that I got that has allowed my kids to rest and feel better. For the medical missionaries and for the regular missionaries that are working so hard to care for those in need.
And for those mothers who have to sit and hold their own dying babies. For moms whose children are suffering. Who feel helpless and can't do anything for their children. For those fathers who can't help and get their children anywhere to anyone who can help them. I prayed that God would take care of them.
And over and over again I played "Psalm 145" where we hear that God is good to all. And I struggled with whether or not those parents, and those children, felt that God was good to them. And I rested in knowing that God sees the suffering and He comforts and heals and knows. That was enough. I confessed that my faith in Him and my love for Him believed that He was and is good, no matter how ugly things in the world looked.
Oh, and this picture was taken by my friend Amy, and she allowed me to put it here. This was from a medical mission trip to Sudan in March. And here is the caption she wrote for this picture:
This little girl broke mine and Stephy's heart. I watched as her mom left her laying on the ground, and took her other child with her to be assessed. I asked Gary who she belonged to and he said he didn't know. Steph looked at me and asked if she should go over the immediately. I knodded. This child was laying on the ground covered head to toe in blankets. Steph took her temp it was 102+. I immediately went over to try to get her information down so we could go see the doctor. She was very lethargic. Steph picked her up, and she went limp in her arms. Dr. B said that she needed oral rehydration (ORT) and to be started on Malaria meds as soon as possible. 1 bottle of ORT, some tylenol, and 1st dose of Coartem later...her temp had rose to 103+. Dr. B said we should wait on giving another bottle of ORT, but to place cold compresses on the little girl. Steph and I grabbed some waters and surgical towels. We laid her on a duffel bag and got busy covering her with cool towels. It took this little girl a good 2 hours (and some motrin) to start perking up. When she started to cry, Steph and I both teared up, she was going to make it. We continuously rechecked her temp and slowly it started to decrease. Eventually, the little girl looked up and pointed towards her mom. The next thing I knew, I saw the little girl walking out of the clinic holding her mom's hand.
I have more about this trip I want to blog about, but that's going to have to wait. It's good stuff, though. All of it. And it's life changing, really.
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