“Desperado…you better let somebody love you, you better let somebody love you before it’s too late.” –The Eagles

Daniel arrived this morning. He was dropped-off by two women from an NGO (Non-Governmental Organization…same as a Non-Profit) who took him from a village. They said the mom looked about fourteen and as if she’d gone mad, clearly with no ability, let alone intention, to care for her son. Daniel is between ten and twelve months old, but weighs just eight pounds. He has sores all over his body and when he arrived, it seemed doubtful he’d make it another hour. His chest and face protrude with bones, and his stomach is hard and swollen. Mama Lucy and I named and bathed him. Caressing ribs never gets easier. We attempted to feed him, but Daniel was so weak and unknowing of touch that his miniature body shrieked mightily when anything neared his flesh. It was as though his corpse was all he had left, with his only defense being a death-cry that screamed bloody-murder and hoped someone would hear. I took him to the clinic for blood tests and a physical. He cried most of the time. When they pierced his finger, he didn’t even flinch. It was obvious Daniel’s life had endured far more pain than a needle. I was his caretaker for the day and it was required that he be held around the clock and given nutrition every two hours. The Mamas rarely spoil a baby to such measures, but in his case it was life-or-death. He alternated between my lap, shoulder and the incubator. Though his tests miraculously showed-up free of “the biggies” (HIV, TB and Malaria), new babies are always kept incubated for a few days, in case of obscure disease or infection.

I sat quietly over Daniel’s rest, watching the glucose-enhanced formula slowly enliven his corpse. His mouth was unfamiliar with the bottle and too weak to suck without assistance, but it was astonishing to see the rate of improvement and change in just a matter of hours. The short, unfamiliar verse, which I’d probably read ten times, but just noticed this morning, was all I could think about. In a tender exchange relaying the promise of the Holy Spirit once he departed, Jesus explained, “I will not leave you as orphans; I am coming to you” (John 14.4). It was as if these very words were being whispered into Daniel’s spirit. The slightest of grins matured into a most magical of smiles, which Mama Suzanne calls, “the ugliest thing she’s ever seen.” The problem is, his face is quite bony and small and his toothless smile is abnormally large, so it’s as though this enormous hole just takes over his face. I still think it’s adorable. Anyway, what remains of Daniel’s limp-less neck and body has at least started to move. By dinnertime, after seeing him through a slow, but successful run at mashed pumpkin, I was convinced this child was going to be okay.

Mama Grace, on the other hand, might not. She got fired last night. Unknown to us, she was caught stealing 2 kilos of sugar the day before we left for Gulu. It would’ve been a disgrace to come home without a gift and she had no money at that point, so at least wanted to bring sugar. Unfortunately, she was caught red-handed when a hole in the sugar bag shined a straight path to her cookie jar purse. Ashamed and shocked, I guess, she lied about it and tried to deny her attempt. There is a lot of pardoning done around here, and a confession of stealing probably would’ve sufficed, but when someone lies, and then keeps lying, there’s only so much pardoning to do. I’m heartbroken for Mama Grace tonight, for many reasons. The Baby Home is an incredible job, paying 90,000 shillings a month (equivalent to about $100) and providing incredible community, safety and opportunity, which are all unheard of around here. I’m also heartbroken that I couldn’t tell her goodbye. All I want to do is put my arms around her and tell her I forgive her and love her. And that God does, too. I can’t imagine the shame she must be feeling right now.

When I put these stories side-by-side, I realize how hard it is to receive. One could say Daniel’s life was saved because he was open to receiving grace (one could also say he didn’t have the strength, or intellect, to prevent it, but maybe that’s what “faith like a child” looks like). And one could say much of Mama Grace’s life was lost because she wasn’t. Daniel let himself be loved, and Grace didn’t. She couldn’t believe God would provide. She couldn’t believe had she waited mere hours, four Muzungoo friends would ask her on a bus-ride home what would most bless her family. She could’ve answered, “Ten kilos of sugar,” and we wouldn’t have batted an eye. When it came down to it, Grace couldn’t resist the indulgence of something that seemed so necessary and would be so instantly gratifying. She couldn’t believe Someone knew of her orphan feelings and would come to her rescue. And I usually don’t either.

How can we believe God wants to feed, hold and handle this day for us? How can we believe He’ll not abandon us, but rather, takes every extreme, including death on a Roman Cross, to rescue us from ongoing villages of despair? How can we trust God’s love? If I had two wishes tonight, they’d be: 1) Realization that letting myself ‘be loved’ by the person of God is my greatest calling. “Love consists of this: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins” (1 John 4.10). This, then, is likewise my greatest capability toward ‘loving.’ 2) I wish my faith would mature to that of Daniel's. “The disciples came to Jesus and said, “Who is greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” “I assure you,” he said, “unless you are converted and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child—this one is the greatest” (Matthew 18.1-4).