it's the grace that covers Africa

Due to unfortunately circumstances, the last few weeks (and for the next several weeks) I've been working at a nutrition clinic nearby (run by close friends). I'm enjoying doing nursing and beyond. To me its an opportunity to give back to one of the miracles that saved Nede's life.

It's a clinic that provides formula milk to babies that for some reason can't be breast fed by their mother, or they passed the time where it's safe to continue breast feeding from their HIV+ mom; or a father or grandmother is caring for an infant who's been orphaned.

Yesterday, as expected in this rainy season, the night was wet. The rain continued into the morning. Some women came in smelling like their usual smokiness from having cooked porridge that morning. Many didn't smell of smoke today, it was too wet to get the fire lit. All smell that familiar smell of being dirty, damp, wet, urine soaked. It's a familiar smell but sometimes it makes me want to gag. On the hot days the smell of BO has the same effect. And they think WE smell badly! Ha, one of the many differences...

She sits down in my chair for her consultation.
"Bom dia."
"Bom dia."
"Como esta Mae?"
"Poco normal."
"O que e problema?"
Nothing.
"Peso por favor."
She reaches into her bra to give me the slip of paper that shows her child's weight for the week.
The child's weight is down almost a KG over the last 2 weeks.
"Wow, what happened Mae (mom)? Why did he lose so much weight in just 2 weeks?"
A typical story...had diarrhea for 2 days, went to the hospital and was given Tylenol.
Or, went to the hospital and received malaria treatment, the same med that the child had taken just 3 weeks before to treat the bug-- obviously, resistant.
I then want to dig deeper into the file and see what this child's history is. How old? 1 year 4 months. Has had a +HIV test at 6 months, a +HIV test at 12 months. The conclusive 18 month test yet to be told. I say a silent prayer, "O Lord Jesus, have mercy, spare just one more."
The mother is distant. Not even making eye contact. Like many there's shame or fear or struggle in their every expression. How do I even expect her to share the deepest struggles of her heart? How can I even begin to understand what her life is like? I can't. I wish I could connect. I'm paralyzed by language-- a dialect I feel I could never learn and a western language I  haven't mastered and she knows only basics. To me it seems our worldviews couldn't possible be from the same universe. How did it get like this?  I pray for  there to be more happening than my nursing assessment and a hand over of milk to sustain a life for another 2 weeks. I pray for the spiritual world to be in action. For a breakthrough for this Nation.

The next baby I lay my eyes on is tiny. I mean TINY. I ask "How many days old is that one?"
"Three months."
WHAT? WHAT? 1.5kg at 3 months?! I feel nervous to even touch the precious one. She should be in a NICU somewhere.

Okay, God you are here! This one has life and this elderly grandmother is caring for this peanut, carrying her on her back wherever she goes.

Later a child comes with his left arm burned from the elbow to finger tips-- screaming as it's washed. I ask, "How are you going to dress that? Is it going to heal?"
Just a vaseline dressing and days later there is remarkable improvement. How?

Another time I ask, "Really? Is this dosage of antibiotic going to make a difference?"
The response I get from a seasoned nurse at the clinic is this, "Yes, I don't know how, it shouldn't, but, it does. It's the grace that covers Africa."

I think on this. I don't quite understand. Habitually I look around here and see all the bad, all the hopelessness, all the struggles, even my own struggles. Through a challenge of spending my days looking for blessings in the mundane I'm beginning to see it. To see the grace that covers Africa. With continued practice, maybe I can be transformed to praise the grace that covers all of us.

For today, thank you God for the grace that covers Africa.