Full…

SO MUCH God is doing in our lives right now, SO MUCH He is teaching me, SO MUCH to tell you all! I really want to share these stories in way that glorifies My Father who gave them to me, but don’t seem to have enought words… So I am going to share them slowly over the next couple of days.

John is a sweet, 15 year old, Karamojong boy with the most beautiful servant’s heart. He lives in Masese’s Karamojong area with a very old grandmother – not his own grandmother, just a woman he cares for because she is so old and unable to walk well or find food for herself – and a baby who came from… I don’t know where. I am constantly humbled by his sweet disposition, his desire to help this vulnerable grandmother and child even though they are unrelated. How many 15 year old boys do you know that spend their lives serving the least of these in their own community? He is precious.

Every Sunday my family eats lunch at a local restaraunt called Yummies (yea, laugh at it for a minute…) This Sunday John was waiting for us when we pulled up after church. He greeted us sweetly but then turned to show me a quarter-sized hole in the back of his foot. All we could really communicate in the little English he knows and the little Swahili I know was that a bottle had cut him. I could not figure out how a bottle made such a large, deep hole. Unfortunately, for severly malnourished children, even the smallest cut can become a gorge due to the body’s inability to heal properly. While the big girls got situated inside, the little girls and I trecked of to the nearest pharmacy to pick up some antibiotic ointment, gauze and tape. After washing his foot as best we could with my bottled water, we bandaged him up good. He looked up and said, “I waited for you. I knew you would fix it.” We gave John his food and sent him on his way, promising I would come back in the morning to re-bandage and start him on an antibiotic.

Monday morning, he sat waiting in the place I park my van at 7 am. He was not surprised to see me. As I handed him the antibiotic, explaining how to take it. I kind of wanted him to say thank you. But as I looked in his eyes I knew why he hadn’t thanked me. Because this was expected. He knew that I was going to bandage his wound and give him medicine because that is what I do. His trust was much better than a thank you. As I washed the gash and covered it with a fresh bandage, he said once again, “I knew you were coming. You bring medicine like you said. You always come.” As I took his sweet face into my hands, I whispered to him that Jesus loves Him and that He will ALWAYS show up, always come, always be there to help him.

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Several weeks ago, Gwen’s son Elijah was looking at pictures of some sweet Ugandan children on her computer. In an effort to teach him to be thankful for all that he has, Gwen explained to him that these children were hungy, sometimes not eating for days, some having no mommy or daddy, some unable to take a bath or drink clean water. Elijah looked up at her with no doubt, “Mom, don’t worry, Katie will feed them. Katie will take care of them.”

Over and over and over again God reminds me. I see these children’s blind faith and I LONG for my faith in the Lord to be so trusting. HE WILL COME. I am waiting for Him. I KNOW that He will come and bandage my wounds and bind up my brokeness. He will always show up, just like He says, bringing the medicine, or whatever else is needed.

I look at these precious children. Hundreds and thousands and Hundreds of thousands of them. Hungry, with no mommy or daddy, some unable to eat or bathe for days, never having clean water to drink, never having adequate medical care when they are hurting. Could my faith be like Elijah’s? Could I look at you without a hint of doubt and say, “Don’t worry. God will feed them. God will take care of them.” HE IS COMING. HE IS COMING to bandage our wounds, to bind up our broken hearts, to take our faces into His hands and whisper I am always here. HE IS COMING and all these children that are hurting and hungry and longing for love are going to be scooped into His everlasting arms and told that they are beautiful. They will no longer be hungry or hurting because they will be filled with His spirit. They are the least of these, they are His heart, and He is coming for them and for us. So we wait like John. We are expectant like Elijah. We will not be put to shame.

Lord, I know you will come. I know you are here. Let me bring all my wounds and brokeness to you expectantly, without a doubt. Remind me that all the children I touch, and all the children I don’t, are yours. Yours in this broken life, and yours in eternity. Come, Lord Jesus. We wait in Hope.