As I walked in to the bathroom, I saw bright red blood
everywhere. On the floor. On the walls.
And all over Elijah. He was yelling
and crying. Elise was trying to stop the
bleeding but we couldn’t figure out where the bleeding was coming from. Pastor Jeony ran to get his car. I picked up Elijah and carried him to the car,
trying to calm him to no avail. We
rushed to an ER where the nurses and doctors promptly led him into a room. The next three hours were the longest of my
life. It was worse than physical
torture. It was a long heart breaking
experience full of anguish and desperation. Hearing Elijah cry and yell and
scream from the pain of the shots, the stitches, removing the ceramic, and his
own fear. He kept saying, “Daddy, please help me. Please it hurts.”
There was nothing I could do. I wanted to cry. I wanted to
magically take his pain away. I would have traded spots with him in a split
second. But there was nothing I could do. It broke my heart. I was helpless and
powerless.
Once we were done we drove home and Elijah fell asleep. I
was exhausted emotionally and spiritually. I needed God, so I went for a walk
trying to process and pray through what had just happened.
During the walk, I thanked God because it wasn't too serious,
realizing the cuts were millimeters away from doing real damage. It could
have been so much worse. I thanked God that it was over and Elijah was safe. During
my walk, I passed 15-20 kids barefoot, in poverty. One little girl in
particular stood out as she must have 3-4 years old and was trying to jump in
front of the moto-taxis. I thought about how the kids at AFE get cuts
like Elijah (and worse) in the dump. With no option for help except AFE. I
thought about all the kids around the world in similar or worse situations.
When Elijah was hurt, I had access to a vehicle, access to great medical care,
and means to pay for whatever it cost. Unheard of in this area with such
a high level of poverty.
And I heard God whisper/imprint in my heart – what you felt
today is what I feel everyday, exponentially more, for all these children. I
have compassion for these children. For orphans. For the vulnerable. For the hungry. For the abandoned. For all these children.
God is best described as our heavenly Father. And God has deep, desperate compassion for these
children.
Psalms 68:5 - Father to the fatherless, defender of
widows— this is God, whose dwelling is holy.
Psalms 145:8-9 - The Lord is merciful and compassionate, slow
to get angry and filled with unfailing love. The Lord is good to
everyone. He showers compassion on all his creation.
The Heavenly Father who feels deep compassion for his
children, is inviting us to join in that compassion. To defend the cause of orphans. To love mercy and act justly. To feed the
hungry.
So what can you do?
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