joy and pain walk hand in hand

Here's an update from my friends Josh, Tiff & Nate from Uganda today. As I prepare to head back in 10 days, I am reminded of the daily doses of joy and pain awaiting me...

"joy and pain walk hand in hand"

We have stories from the last month here with Come Let's Dance that have drastically impacted our lives, stories that will rest in our minds forever, experiences that we have yet to process, but yesterday was a day that opened my eyes to the inevitable connection between joy and pain.

Today (January 27th) we started the day as usual, breakfast together and time to talk about the day. There was 8 of us so we decided to split into two groups of 4. The first group went to Thread of Life (TOL), our sew shop project that helps destitute women with training so they can have a skill to provide for their families. Currently they are making all of the school uniforms for the kids house, Solomon (the shop manager) asked if we could come over and help sew buttons. The other group decided to go visit people at Mulago hospital in the Children's Cancer Ward, the same place we had gone on Christmas day.

We arrived at Mulago around noon, the doctors were still doing there rounds so we promised to stay out of their way so they could get work done. We spread out, all taking time to meet different children, some of which were smiling because of the visitors others were laying in bed with blank stares across their face. One boy had a tumor on his jaw the size of a volleyball, we learned that 2 weeks prior he had no sign of sickness. Another child we recognized from Christmas, he sat in the same bed crying in the same way he had on Christmas day, his mother said they had been there for two months. His mother told us they failed to find money for the treatment, "He needed six treatments and they were 22,000 schillings each ($11USD)." One woman, Mama Daniel, had been in the hospital for 3 weeks with Stomach Cancer, her 2 boys Kenneth (10) and Daniel (4) were staying with neighbors because they have no family in Kampala. She is afraid that she will pass away soon but the doctors haven't given her a clear answer so she in not sure what to do with her boys. They won't be attending school this year because her sickness has taken all of their money and they have nothing left to pay school fees. She told us all of this through her hunger pains because she had nothing to buy food for the day.

After many conversations and prayers with some of the patients I heard a loud weeping coming from two beds away, slowly I made my way to the bed to see a girl named Solanche shaking and foaming from the mouth, the mother could not handle watching and left the room while a relative called for the nurses. There was a cold silence in the room as everyone tried not to stare but could notice the looks of helplessness even in the eyes of the doctors. As the seconds rushed by, the mood shifted, fewer eyes focused on Solanche and more eyes began to bow in prayer. The doctors tried switching her I.V., for 5 minutes nothing was working. Finally she stopped, I looked at her but she laid there still, her arms that were once shaking now rested limp. As her eyes rolled back I thought to myself, "Is she dead, is that really it, just like that? No effort, no heart monitors, no CPR?" I wanted to do something pick her up, yell her name...do something. Understanding my absolute lack of knowledge in anything medical I did the first thing that came to my mind, I went outside to console the mother. As she stood there gasping, trying to catch her breath I stood there like an idiot saying the same old cliche, "It's going to be okay." I had no idea if it would be okay, I didn't even know if she understood me, but I thought that maybe it could help. After a few minutes I left her and went back inside, as I approached the bed I heard a terrible noise, it sounded like a gurgled hissing. To my surprise it was Solanche, she was now laying back breathing again, not easily but she was breathing. As she laid there panting I could see that the doctor had left, the sister had gone outside to tell the mother that she was still alive, there was one woman standing by her side. Mike (one of the other volunteers here at CLD) and I asked the woman if we could pray for her, the woman agreed and we prayed. And we prayed, and we prayed, and prayed some more. As I prayed I continuously thought about all the times Jesus had healed people, I remembered the disciples healing people, I desperately pleaded with God to give me the faith to bring comfort to this girl. Earlier we learned that 2 days before this same girl had been at home cooking with her mother, and here she was laying in a hospital bed in severe pain, I asked God to let her cook again. After 30 minutes, the nurses had returned to adjust her 3 I.V.s and check her heart rate. We stepped back and watched helplessly, wondering what kind of suffering this girl was experiencing. As the family gathered around we moved out of the way to let them have time with their daughter. They hired a man to come and take pictures of them with the girl fearing that she would soon be gone. It is about a 15 minute walk from Mulago Hospital to Thread of Life, during the walk Mike and I exchanged thoughts on the situation, and I wondered what is the mother going through? What does it feel like to watch you daughter in that situation?

As we arrived to TOL we saw smiling faces, the whole time everyone had been happily sewing buttons. In the sewing room 10 Ugandan women, some that had at one time been prostitutes, now sat on sewing machines working on the uniforms as their healthy children ran around playing at their feet. They are getting paid per uniform and will use the money to buy food and medicine for their children. The uniforms they are working on are for the kids at Mercy Childcare who 6 years ago had no hope of ever going to school. As Solomon instructed them on the importance of the quality of the uniforms I saw a 22 year old man completely in his element, leading people with love, providing for them a way of life. In the other room there were 4 Americans in their early 20's, 4 people who at one time were completely self-centered and oblivious to the reality of life across the world. These people sat there joyfully sewing buttons, joyfully understanding the process, joyfully working with Ugandans to bring hope to this small part of the world. On the taxi ride home I thought about why that girl had not been healed, I thought about all the answers that have been fed to me about suffering in the world, and then I realized that while I had seen pain that day I had seen even more joy. I realized that we don't have to feel joyful about Solanche's pain, but that we do have to continue to work our butts off to bring hope to people - to ourselves. I realized that because of TOL many women will have the opportunity to treat their sick children and to raise up out of poverty. I realized that all those children who are now attending school will grow up to be doctors and leaders that will bring more healing to this place. I realized that there is a generation of people refusing to live only for themselves, refusing to be lazy, refusing to quit, and always willing to learn from mistakes.

As I finish this blog it is now the end of January 28th, I wish I could say that today was easier, but it wasn't. We returned to Mulago for a quick visit, as I glanced across the room I saw that Solanche was still there, alive but in pain. I stopped to say hello to Mama Daniel, she said it had been a rough day and that they had lost many lives, I turned to see which beds were empty but that they had already been filled up with new faces. These days aren't easy but we refuse to quit, we refuse to forget that joy and pain walk hand in hand.

Love you all...