Losing Two Friends

Last Spring, while my mom was here visiting, I took her to visit a friend of mine.  Her name is Phoebe, and she has taken in 8 children who have no families.  While we were there I noticed that one of her sons seemed lethargic, and he had a pretty bad cough.  I inquired after his health and found that Phoebe was struggling to get him the health care he needed for various reasons.  I, along with some friends from the clinic, joined in in the fight to get Bienvenu the help he needed.

Through the months that followed Bienvenu had ups and downs.  He was in and out of the hospital, and several times I left visits with him preparing myself for the worst, only to find him bouncing back a few days later.  Before we left in September I spoke with the medical assistant who had agreed to start him on Tuberculosis meds.  The last time I saw him he was out of bed, walking around, and even eating.  I was amazed at how resilient this sweet boy was.

However, two weeks later we arrived in the States to hear the news that Bienvenu had passed away while we were in transit.  It felt a bit surreal to me, as life always does when I contemplate the huge discrepancy between life in the U.S. and life in Togo.  My mind was trying to assimilate and accommodate my home culture again, and I had little mental energy to spare.  I put my grief on hold.

We continued our travels in the States for about four and a half months, and in late December we learned that another young friend of ours here was having problems with her kidneys.  Over the years that we've known Massan, we have seen her become very ill, but she has always pulled through.  She too, lost her parents to HIV many years ago, and was living with her little sister and their adoptive mother Rose.

We began praying for Massan.  We spoke to people who might be able to help her.  We did the best we could from such a great distance to try to help her get the care she needed.  Four days before our flight left to bring us back to Togo she passed away.

Death is a part of AIDS work.  In Africa, death is a part of life.  People here handle it and move on with great strength, but I'm blown away by it.  I think of Bienvenu and Massan, and then I think of so many other orphans who are sick with AIDS and other illnesses, and many of them are never mourned.  Most of them don't have their names mentioned in blogs, they are forgotten.

I take such great comfort that these children have never been forgotten for even an instant by their Heavenly Father.  He has known and mourned all of their sorrows through life, and he redeems all injustice even in their death.  He overcomes every tragedy, every failing, and every grief.  I am saddened by the loss of my two little friends, but I don't bear the burden of healing their sickness or repairing the cruelty they have suffered.  I trust God to do all of that, and rejoice that he can do it perfectly and wholly.    I am free to offer what love and meager help that I can give and leave salvation and true restoration to God.