This week was all about hope, but I am learning that “hope”
rarely has the face that we expect it to have.
Caleb (age one) is HIV positive and has been on ARV’s (anti-retro-virals)
since he was born. His mother died of complications due to AIDS shortly after
Caleb was born and his father took him to the Pediatric AIDS clinic for testing
and treatment. Because the child
was positive, the clinic’s policy is that they will care for any other
immediate family member who is also positive (mother, father, grandmother, etc),
but the child is the primary patient.
While Caleb’s father was HIV positive, he still refused to start
treatment, and was getting sicker each day.
This week I learned that more than 50% of the adult/parent
patients at the Pediatric AIDS clinic refuse to start treatment (life-giving,
life-changing, life-saving treatment) because of the stigma around it and the
knowledge that they will have to remain on treatment for the rest of their
lives. The number is staggering
and I am still processing this new information. Not only will the adult get sicker faster, but they also are
more infectious to others when they are not on their ARV’s (of course they are
encouraged not to participate in sexual activity).
Caleb’s father landed in prison not long after Caleb came to
the El Roi baby home. Caleb was very sick and there were several weeks when
Helen feared that Caleb wouldn’t make it, but he did make it. Two weeks ago at his check up we
learned that Caleb’s father was out of prison and was considering starting on
his AIDS medication. We also learned that he would be back at the clinic on
Wednesday, August 1st to get his medication. Helen asked if we could go to the
clinic that day and take Caleb to see his father. Why? Because
Caleb is the face of hope.
We arrived at the clinic at 7:15 and waited. There are no appointments set and
patients are seen on a first-come, first-served basis. Within 90 minutes a man was pushed in
to the clinic in a wheelchair. It
was Caleb’s father. He was bone
thin, was clearly wearing an adult diaper and required assistance to stand up
and get weighed (which is the first thing you do when enter as a patient). Helen gasped when she saw him. The last time they were together was in
March and he was walking and “healthier” then. Now he was in bad shape.
Helen held up a smiling Caleb and the father looked as if he
had seen a ghost. He believed his
son was dead, but there was Caleb, right in front of him, laughing reaching,
chatting and almost standing by himself.
The father said, “this is a miracle, he is alive”. Sadly (but not unexpectedly) Caleb did
not recognize the man who was reaching for him and Caleb took refuge in Helen’s
arms. But over time, he
looked at his father and his father stared in awe of the miracle in front of
him. Helen was amazing and told
the father that the child is alive because God saved him and he is taking his
medication. She encouraged the
father to take his medication so that he can see his son grow and be
strong. We gave him (his sister)
our phone number and asked her stay in touch and if he wanted to see Caleb at
any time, we would bring him. I
believe that Caleb’s father saw hope in his little boy’s face on Wednesday and
I pray that the next time we see him he will be on a better path to health.
Minutes after we left the clinic we met a Social Worker from
the hospital who asked if we could help with transport to do a home visit on
the twins that I had seen back on June 5th when I was at the
hospital picking up four-month-old David (see June 9th blog). Their story was complicated and
involved a parental father raping the girl, the girl abandoning the babies and
an Auntie agreeing to take them.
I was very concerned about the twins and have prayed for them daily
since I saw them there, always having a feeling that I should follow up. Wednesday the Social Worker asked if we
could drive her to follow up on those very twins and so at 7AM the very next
morning Helen and I picked her up and we headed out to the homestead where the
babies had been dropped of.
Helen brought some small clothes to leave with the Auntie
(or whoever was caring for the babies) and our fingers were all crossed that we
would find them well. After
driving for hours and covering much of the country of Swaziland by car we
finally found the babies and they were in bad condition. The Auntie couldn’t care for them and
gave them back to the mother. She
was young, not stable, had run away to live in a slum (I didn’t know there were
slums in Swaziland until I found myself in one that day) and she couldn’t buy
any milk for them. One of her
nipples was infected and the other was providing minimal milk for both
babies. The mother is HIV positive
so the milk she was providing could also be passing along HIV. The babies were severely malnourished,
weighing approximately five pounds each (they are eight weeks old). The mother didn’t want to care for them
and talked of taking them back to the hospital and dropping them off, but
hospitals here (much like at home) have a “no return policy” on babies. They were cold, naked and very
despondent. Helen immediately went
and bought the smallest diapers she could find, cleaned the babies and put them
in the clothes we brought for the mother.
The Social Worker was very concerned/upset about the babies
and worked very caringly and diligently to speak with the mother about caring
for them. Although the mother
acknowledged that the babies were in bad shape, she also knew that she had no
way to provide for them and knew that if something didn’t change that they
would die. The Social Worker spoke
for with the mother for a long time to try to find another/better solution for
the babies. We even got back in
the car with her and drove to a distant homestead to seek assistance for the
mother and children, but the answer was “no”. The Social Worker then asked us if we would be able to make
room for these two? Bringing home
two new babies was not our intent when we started the journey on Thursday
morning, but by 2:30PM we had two new baby boys on their way to the El Roi
home. The firstborn is named
Paul. The second one, who appears
quite sickly, is named Ishmael.
The El Roi Baby Home was named “El Roi” because that is the
Hebrew name for “the God who Sees Me” found in Genesis 16:13 when Hagar was
still pregnant with Ishmael.
Our God, El Roi, saw the pain
that the mother was in and the pain that these twins were in and called in his
servant, the Social Worker from the hospital, to go and find them.
Strangely (or not) that very Social Worker was reading
Genesis 16 in her office when we picked her up on Thursday morning. I didn’t find this out until much later
in the day (!). When we reminded
her of where the El Roi name came
from, we all gave thanks to God for His ways are not our ways, but they are
perfect.
I saw hope in the face of Caleb this week. I saw new hope in the face of Caleb’s
father. I saw hope in the face of
a young mother, who was watching her babies die and could do nothing about
it. And I saw hope in the face of
a Social Worker who is doing impossible work with no budget. But I know that it really wasn’t those
three who showed me hope it was my Lord and Savior who gave me hope by using
those people in my life.
Psalm 25:5 says, “Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long”.
As we continue on through these turbulent waters I am
determined to keep my eyes on Him.
That is not always easy and sometimes requires hourly reminders, but
that is my hearts desire. My hope
is in Him and only Him.
Live from Swaziland, I am determined.
Janine
