Sharing the Sadness

She made her entrance into this world, held on for a few hours, and then she died.  

The delivery went fine, but she just was too calm; too peaceful.  She wouldn't cry.  Her family lives in a small village about 7 km from where we live, but those 7 km take about 30 minutes to drive because the roads are so rough.  The baby needed medical care, but how to get her to the hospital? There are no cars in the village; no taxis sitting around waiting for someone to hire them.  Moto taxis come and go occasionally, but riding a motorcycle over those roads with a newborn, breathing in all the dust and smoke hours after giving birth was unthinkable.  

So Aisha, a friend of the baby's mother, came to us.  Aisha knows we have a vehicle.  She is a faithful Christian who desires for her whole village to come to know Christ.  Seven Christians meet faithfully for church every Sunday morning, and one of those Christians is the baby's mother, a new convert to the faith.   She's the only Christian in her family. Aisha wanted to show her friend the love of Jesus, show her that Christians care about other people.  So we went.  If we could just get there in time, we could drive the baby and the mother to the hospital.  

When we arrived, a group of women had gathered in the bedroom with the mother, and the baby was wrapped in a blanket.  The mother was crying, and the faces of the other women were somber. It was too late. 

I was out of place.  I didn't belong with those women.  They've shared joys, sorrows, and daily life for years, and I felt like an intruder.  Why was I there?  

I wasn't there to fix the problem; I could only offer help.  I wasn't there to explain why these things happen; I could only pray to the One who has all the answers.  I just wanted them to know that I care.  I just wanted them to know that Jesus cares.  

And my hope for that family is that someday, out of the hard, rocky ground of trials and sadness, faith will begin to blossom.