As I went to the hospital yesterday, I walked in during visiting hours and into the pediatric ward. This hospital is just what you might expect in a 3rd world country that values other things than cleanliness in their government hospitals. The place is riddled with rickety old beds, pale green and peach tile, peeling paint, rusty rooftops, and broken windows. This is not the place of choice for most, but for many, this is the best they can afford.
When I entered, there were no nurses to be found. It was visiting hours and thus there were some other people around, but my little buddy was not in any of the beds. It had been a few days since I last visited and was not sure of his status, but as I scanned back and forth over the beds, with each little brown haired child I did not recognize, my heart sunk a little bit deeper.
As there were no nurses, I decided to go and find a registration booth or someone that might be able to tell me where my little buddy was. I wandered the hospital never to find anyone with information. I decided to return to the pediatric ward and get to point of finding Jason.
I reentered the ward, and through a doorway labled “Visitors Prohibited”, I saw Iliana, the mother of Jason, lift her head and turn my way. She appeared to have just run a marathon with her children on her back. Her eyes were worn without sleep, stress filled her entire countenance, and her body language was that of utter exhaustion. However, from my standpoint, I knew that Jason was still there, alive, but not sure how close he was teetering to the alternative. I ventured towards the entrance to the door in which I was not to pass and began a conversation with Iliana.
I was able to glean as much information as I could through the Quechua/Spanish words she was using. I gathered that Jason was better, but now was in tremendous pain and the hospital staff was unable to figure out the cause of the problem nor could they do much with the pain. It was ripping Iliana’s heart right from her sternum. As I laid my eyes on Jason, my heart began to tear as well.
I was able to have somewhat of a conversation with Jason. He is alert, but in so much pain that he can hardly concentrate on anything but the pain. This is a tough little kid…I have seen him get pounded by a bigger kid on the soccer field and get up like nothing happened. If he is hurting this bad, it must be incredible pain. When I asked him how he was doing he told said, “bien.”
Well, I can clearly see that physically he is not OK. As I sat there talking with him and rubbing his head, I struggled to understand all the reasons that this has to happen to my little friend. We often hear about bad things happening to good people. It is a common question we get in our café when we are talking with people. How can such a loving God do this to His people? Why would God allow this to happen?
I have to admit, that I need to check myself often when things happen. What a blessed thing God has done in giving me the choice to make any and every situation a good or a bad situation. I know that God’s name can and will be praised through this ordeal. I am not sure how it will all work out at the moment, but if I seek to reach this family through prayer, support, and most importantly love, God’s name will be praised. We are here for His purpose even when it sometimes strays from our desires. God is in control. What peace we can take from knowing that He is in charge.
I know that many of you that read these posts of ours continue to pray for us. In this case, I am asking for you to please lift up my little buddy Jason. Pray that he would come to know Jesus in a real and tangible way. Pray that Jason would give up all of his control to the One who created him, regardless of his earthly physical issues. He is a blessing to my life and many around him. It would be great to surround this little guy with fervent prayer of intercession on his behalf. Thank you for praying…Many blessings…Scott