A child of the King

Today, we went to visit Wendy’s mother who is in the hospital. She has AIDS and is dying. She has been doing better but is still extremely sick. She is sitting up, laughing, talking and even eating. Last week, she wasn’t even able to talk. When Wendy was standing beside her mother’s bed, she appeared fine. She was sad, but not wrought with grief. It’s so odd. To be able to stand beside her mother who is dying and not have a complete breakdown, is almost incomprehensible. I know for me personally, that if my mother was in the hospital dying, I would barely be able to walk into the hospital. I wouldn’t be able to see her in a bed, wasting away; it would destroy me. But a relative dying is so common here. It’s an everyday occurrence, forcing the kids to shove their emotions down and keep going as if life is perfectly fine. It breaks my heart, that these young children are afraid to cry when their mother or father die for fear of being scolded.

But Jesus still reigns here, and is working in this place. I have seen Him provide and love these children that have lost parents. He is bigger than AIDS and poverty, and from that I draw my strength and hope. That doesn’t mean that we leave these children alone, though. Jesus adopted us into His family, so it makes sense that we do the same and adopt children with no parents into ours. Being here, at the children’s village, I am able to see how Jesus takes these lost and broken children and brings them into a place of love and acceptance. I am thankful and grateful that He has allowed me to be a part of His plan for them.