Fast forward eight years. We received word that Yeye was very ill and were asked to go pick her up from the encampment where she has been staying and to bring her back to be with her family. I prepared for the worst and went with my teammate to assess the situation. We returned with a young lady who seemed to be on death’s door.
Yeye, now twelve years old, weighs only 20 kilograms, the same as my teammates’ preschool-age children. Tuberculosis has taken over her small frame. Her heart and lungs are working overtime, fighting to preserve life. Her skin is dry and dusky and her eyes have very little hope left in them. She has no energy to participate in the life that goes on all around her. She looks very much like a walking skeleton.
We’ve been treating Yeye for TB for 2 months now, with no noticeable improvement. We’ve been praying all the while that God would guide us and that He would heal, and we have been surprised to see that she has survived this long in her compromised state.
This week Yeye took a downhill turn. Her breathing, already quite compromised, became even quicker, and it became apparent that she had caught the cold that has been making the rounds of her small little encampment. Her poor little lungs don’t need another assault. Knowing that there is little we can do, we encouraged a good diet and lots of fluids, both of which are very taxing on a family with several other starving children. We decided that we would go see Yeye again half-way through the week.
I awoke this morning with a sinking feeling that Yeye’s condition had worsened still and a burden to pray for her. I told God that I don’t really even know what to pray any more. I’ve prayed for healing, physically and spiritually. I’ve prayed for ease of breathing, for a break from the constant work of each new breath. I’ve prayed that her family will care for her well, feed her nutritious foods and supply her with lots of water. I’ve told God that I don’t understand His ways and that I really cannot expect to understand the thoughts of the One who created all. And I’ve determined to trust Him through it all, even when it makes no earthly sense. This morning I prayed all those prayers again, with weeping and a keen knowledge that Yeye’s life hangs in the balance.
Only a couple hours after that prayer Yeye’s older brother, Sufayo, came with word that Yeye is complaining of pain in her chest and belly, that she is having trouble breathing, and that she is not eating. My heart sunk. I feared, of course, the worst. Could this be Yeye’s last day? Did we really do her any favors by treating her TB and prolonging her suffering? Did she ever see clearly the love of Christ in our efforts to heal her body?
As we prepared the necessary medications, I felt as if our efforts were futile, like I was fighting a raging forest fire with a measly little water gun. But this battle must be fought. We must be faithful to the task put before us.
I would want nothing else but to care for children like Yeye, to show them the love of Christ, to lead them to the one who gives life. But that is perhaps where I feel the most powerless. I long to share with her the love and grace and power of Christ, but I do not have the words. I cannot yet speak the language. I told God today how I want to share His Gospel of hope with Yeye and then my heart cried out, ”Lord, please give me the words!”
Yeye continues to fight weakly for life. Her heart, strained by all the work of recent months, continues to do its job, and her lungs, filled with infectious material, somehow find enough air to keep her alive. But in her eyes I see that she is tired, that she knows death may come soon.
I don’t know what our Sovereign Lord has designed to do with Yeye’s precious life. I know not whether this disease will claim her or if she will be miraculously healed; it will take a miracle. I don’t know if she will become a great warrior for Christ or if she will never know Him. I only know that my Lord is faithful and that I am called to follow His example.
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