Since getting caught up on a lot of the office work that built up over the summer, it's been a prayer and focus of mine to be more available to build relationships with the children and staff. Today was successful in that area! I sat and visited over chai with not one, but two staff families (and also accompanied one of the dorm mothers to the village's beauty parlor in preparation for her engagement ceremony later this week!) One of the ladies' names whose home I visited was Leila.
Leila is only 50 years old, but I always thought of her as being older because she is missing a few teeth and her posture is always one of someone in physical pain. Yet despite her obvious pain, Leila is always seen working. And smiling. Yesterday I chatted with her next to the school, where I was practicing making smooth starts in my newly purchased (stick shift) car. (A big praise to God for providing me with a car!) Leila works as a cleaning lady for the school, and was doing some of her afternoon chores.
"Hello Audrey!" Despite knowing very little English, she always greets me by name with a big smile. "When can you come to my home?" Sweet Leila had been asking Kathy and me for months to come visit her. It was to our shame that we still had not. "Can you come tomorrow?"
"Yes," I called back. "How about 4:30?"
Having finally committed to a time, Kathy and I grabbed our umbrellas after work today, and trekked down the short path to Leila's home. "Leila Aunty?" We called out upon arriving closer.
She stepped from the kitchen. "Ah hello, Kathy, Audrey! Come in!" Holding a doorway curtain aside, "Please sit."
Leila and her husband are quite possibly the poorest family on the Children's Home campus. But their home is always kept clean and fresh, and I've enjoyed the few times I've been there. Sitting on one of the clean, tidily made beds, I asked her, "How are you?" already knowing the answer.
Through a bright smile she said, "Ah, today is much pain. My legs are always hurting, and swelling is there." She showed us her swollen ankle.
Leila has been suffering from some type of leg pain for months, perhaps arthritis, but our language barrier always made it too difficult for me to find out exactly what. Today was no different. Kathy's language skill is better than mine (due to her having studied it for several semesters at NC State), so she was able to follow more of Leila's explanations, but I caught enough to be amazed by the woman before me. She told us that she's been suffering from sever leg pain for about a year. The doctors give her medicine, but the prescriptions are written in English so she can't quite understand what she's taking. She and her husband can't afford medical treatment beyond pain meds. I can't imagine burying any of my children (let alone having them) but Leila told us that 4 of her babies died when they were young. One of her daughters hopes to marry this fall, but Leila's family can't afford to pay the dowry that is culturally required of the bride's family. So they are not sure what will happen, but are praying that the groom's family will love God and their daughter enough to not demand the dowry. Despite these obvious deep trials, I saw no signs of bitterness or resentment in Leila's face. It was wreathed in smiles through our whole conversation. And despite the pain that she easily confesses to, I never see her sitting down. Whether she is doing her cleaning work in the school, or housework in the home, she is always serving someone. And I was there because she wanted to serve me. I sipped my warm chai, wishing I could do something to help. I've lived in this culture long enough to know that offering money isn't always the right answer. So what is?
Hearing the bell to announce the time for evening devotions that I planned to lead, Kathy and I offered to pray for Leila. Although she was unable to understand most of my English prayer, still, she murmered sounds of appreciation and thanks to God as I prayed.
A few minutes later, Kathy and I left after a warm and sincere exchange of "thank yous" and "please come agains". What abundant grace God has poured out on that sweet woman! There are so many believers here who have suffered and served God faithfully more than I could ever imagine. While I truly wish I had more time to spend ministering in friendship to Leila Aunty, realistically, with 300 children and 60+ staff who long to be loved and known, it's very hard to know how to prioritize time and relationships. Again, I found myself thanking God that the needs of this country --of these people-- are His to meet, not mine. I'm privileged to be here, to know these people. And I'm humbled at the joyful, trusting faith of people like Leila. Despite my inability to visit her and encourage her every day, her serene and joyful countenance is clear evidence that the Lord is doing that everyday Himself.
More and more, as I'm reminded how little I can really do, I'm convinced and moved to pray. Perhaps more than anything else, that is the response He calls me to give when I see the dire needs around me. And prayer, seeing that it's being in direct communication with the controller of the universe, is no small thing.
Leila is only 50 years old, but I always thought of her as being older because she is missing a few teeth and her posture is always one of someone in physical pain. Yet despite her obvious pain, Leila is always seen working. And smiling. Yesterday I chatted with her next to the school, where I was practicing making smooth starts in my newly purchased (stick shift) car. (A big praise to God for providing me with a car!) Leila works as a cleaning lady for the school, and was doing some of her afternoon chores.
"Hello Audrey!" Despite knowing very little English, she always greets me by name with a big smile. "When can you come to my home?" Sweet Leila had been asking Kathy and me for months to come visit her. It was to our shame that we still had not. "Can you come tomorrow?"
"Yes," I called back. "How about 4:30?"
Having finally committed to a time, Kathy and I grabbed our umbrellas after work today, and trekked down the short path to Leila's home. "Leila Aunty?" We called out upon arriving closer.
She stepped from the kitchen. "Ah hello, Kathy, Audrey! Come in!" Holding a doorway curtain aside, "Please sit."
Leila and her husband are quite possibly the poorest family on the Children's Home campus. But their home is always kept clean and fresh, and I've enjoyed the few times I've been there. Sitting on one of the clean, tidily made beds, I asked her, "How are you?" already knowing the answer.
Through a bright smile she said, "Ah, today is much pain. My legs are always hurting, and swelling is there." She showed us her swollen ankle.
Leila has been suffering from some type of leg pain for months, perhaps arthritis, but our language barrier always made it too difficult for me to find out exactly what. Today was no different. Kathy's language skill is better than mine (due to her having studied it for several semesters at NC State), so she was able to follow more of Leila's explanations, but I caught enough to be amazed by the woman before me. She told us that she's been suffering from sever leg pain for about a year. The doctors give her medicine, but the prescriptions are written in English so she can't quite understand what she's taking. She and her husband can't afford medical treatment beyond pain meds. I can't imagine burying any of my children (let alone having them) but Leila told us that 4 of her babies died when they were young. One of her daughters hopes to marry this fall, but Leila's family can't afford to pay the dowry that is culturally required of the bride's family. So they are not sure what will happen, but are praying that the groom's family will love God and their daughter enough to not demand the dowry. Despite these obvious deep trials, I saw no signs of bitterness or resentment in Leila's face. It was wreathed in smiles through our whole conversation. And despite the pain that she easily confesses to, I never see her sitting down. Whether she is doing her cleaning work in the school, or housework in the home, she is always serving someone. And I was there because she wanted to serve me. I sipped my warm chai, wishing I could do something to help. I've lived in this culture long enough to know that offering money isn't always the right answer. So what is?
Hearing the bell to announce the time for evening devotions that I planned to lead, Kathy and I offered to pray for Leila. Although she was unable to understand most of my English prayer, still, she murmered sounds of appreciation and thanks to God as I prayed.
A few minutes later, Kathy and I left after a warm and sincere exchange of "thank yous" and "please come agains". What abundant grace God has poured out on that sweet woman! There are so many believers here who have suffered and served God faithfully more than I could ever imagine. While I truly wish I had more time to spend ministering in friendship to Leila Aunty, realistically, with 300 children and 60+ staff who long to be loved and known, it's very hard to know how to prioritize time and relationships. Again, I found myself thanking God that the needs of this country --of these people-- are His to meet, not mine. I'm privileged to be here, to know these people. And I'm humbled at the joyful, trusting faith of people like Leila. Despite my inability to visit her and encourage her every day, her serene and joyful countenance is clear evidence that the Lord is doing that everyday Himself.
More and more, as I'm reminded how little I can really do, I'm convinced and moved to pray. Perhaps more than anything else, that is the response He calls me to give when I see the dire needs around me. And prayer, seeing that it's being in direct communication with the controller of the universe, is no small thing.
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