Traveling down to our church’s land for the first women’s bible study . . .I see something I’ve never seen here before, a mom playing with her baby. I catch sight of the mom, in bright green dress with a big tangle of dark curly hair, leaning around the corner of her mud hut. And as I come around past the hut I see the little one, just learning to crawl, maybe six months, with a matching dark tangle of hair, but of course, naked, playing peek-a-boo around the other corner of the hut. What pure beauty. I lose my breath. Their joy in each other, silhouetted against the mud, dirt and garbage . . . Hope in a lost world.
Now we sit, the women, about ten of us, in the crude makeshift shelter that is our church right now. Most of the women are older. Two quite old. We discuss what the Bible says about being a woman. We start with the story of Eve’s creation and the fall. None of these women have ever heard these stories. We discuss the uniqueness of men and women, why did God create women?? What an amazing and unique perspective these women have on life. They are basically divided half and half in their beliefs about whether women and men have equal worth in God’s site. The young ones still hopeful that they have worth, the old ones quite sure they are far less than the men.
I head back towards home, stopping by the huts of Kasaija and Iadah. Iadah has just produced their first child, a girl. They asked me to pick her name and I picked “Peace” (” He shall be called the “Prince of Peace” - Isaiah 9) So she is called Katuunda (He loves us) Peace. I hold this intricate bundle in my arms. Small, perfect, looking so much like her beautiful mother. This one living, the last baby whose birth I prayed for, born dead. God says He knows every sparrow that falls from the tree, surely He knows both these children and is caring them for them with infinite love and wisdom. No tears left for Annit’s baby.
A man waits for me in our kituube, he is humble and hopeless in posture. He says through Daniel as translator that he has come for some wisdom or advice. This man, looking hardly old enough to be called a man, finds himself, as of a week ago, the father of twins, “selongo”. Since he can find no work he has no food for his wife, her milk is small and the twins are hungry, crying always and losing weight. What small help I am in the face of his desperation and need. I give money for eggs, instructions to feed his wife well in the hopes the milk may still grow strong for these babies. Formula is really not an option at this point. They will live or die. We pray together that God will give him strength through Jesus for whatever is ahead.
Evening, we gather around our christmas tree and light a candle. We open the window of our advent calendar and read the story of Zechariah from “Indescribable Gift”. I hold my own children in my arms, soft, blonde and sweet smelling from their basin baths. Healthy, strong, and well-nourished. Smart, capable and with every chance and choice in the world . . . They move forward into their future with parents who hold their hand each step of the way. Why are they, and we, so blessed. . . . . We hold out grateful hands to receive these gifts from God.