Advent

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I usually do my best thinking on scraps of worthless paper.  This faded folded piece of red construction paper was tucked in my purse one day a while back when I was taking a lady to the hospital.  Jotting down my observations back then, this is what I pull out today:

A 2^nd hand McDonalds uniform shirt delights and even entices me in the emergency room (called “casualty” here).  A Maasai woman in spectacular bling bling of beads and shiny silver on age old stretched out ear lobes, shaven head, black wrinkled skin like tar-pits swallowing an old dinosaur.  Who will save us from this body of death?

Crowded, quiet, curious, stares at the white lady.  Yes, even I have a body of death too.  We are bound by corruption inherited through our cells and genes and traditions and systemic oppressions. 

Daktari has been blazing bright in his work.  He is alone now.  And the suffering of his patients day after day after day has taken a toll.  He calls them the 20-20-20 club.  The 20 yr old woman with a CD-4 count of 20 (advanced AIDS) and she is typically 20 weeks pregnant: they come in frequently and do poorly.

Who will save us from this soul crushing fatalism that is life in Africa?

Mama said there’d be days like this.

And even Jesus said in this world we’d have trouble.  But here’s one thing that’s True too:  He will never leave us.  So we don’t give up on Him.

Now you know how to pray for us I hope.   I promise to be more merry and bright in the next post.  Watch for it.  Wait for it.  Don’t give up on me either.