One Year Ago

April 1, 2012

One year ago today was one of those days that one is able to look back and say ‘’that was the day. That was the day everything changed.’’

April 1, 2011, Sarah and I had been in Mozambique for three weeks. It was a Friday afternoon, and I was helping some school children on the football (soccer) field at the Maforga school in Mozambique. One child ran up and said that the director wanted to see me right away.

I walked less than 100 yards, to where Trish Perkins was painting a sign on the wall of the school. She asked me, if Sarah and I would go over to the farm, about a mile away, and check on one of the new babies that had arrived about 90 minutes beforehand. I said certainly, and walked home, to let Sarah know that there was a new baby, news that is always strangely sad, yet exciting at the same time. Sad, simply because when the babies arrive there is the realization that poor circumstances have brought them there, and yet exciting, because there is hope that things will get better for these babies.

We drove the car up the bumpy road, parked and walked into the small buildings that are used to house the babies. I don’t know what my very first impressions were, but we were told the baby was four months old. She looked tired, scared and upset, but physically looked healthy and had been taken care of to that point in her life.

The baby was being fed, some sudza, a corn meal mush (not the best food for a four month old.) Sarah decided that we would take the baby home for one day, maybe the weekend, and make sure she didn’t have a cold or other sickness, that she could pass on to other babies, or that any of the other children didn’t have anything to pass on to this little baby.

We took her very small parcel of belongings, one drippy bottle, a small dirty ‘capulana’ wrap, and what she was wearing, a torn towel being used as a diaper. She was scared and uncertain, but we put her in the car, and drove her home.

I’m sure she cried a bit, but I don’t remember. I do remember that she was exhausted, and scared. We gave her a nice warm bath, and some formula, and then the exhausted little bundle fell asleep in my arms as I sat in a living room chair…..

It was then that I began to think. I’d already seen dozens of children in this context, and seen their smiling faces, and played with them and watched them in school and at work, but this one was so little, and so small and vulnerable. She had lost both of her parents in one day (perhaps in the previous 24 hours) through some very tragic circumstances.

I just sat there wondering ‘’what happened? ‘’who are you?’ ‘’What does God have planned for your life now?”

She was sound asleep, so I moved her to the bedroom so she could lay on the bed. I sat next to her, saying a little prayer, when Sarah walked in the room, looked at me and said ‘’don’t do it. Don’t fall for her’’ then she looked at me and said ‘’ It’s too late, isn’t it?’’

I don’t think I really understood the question at the time, so I don’t think I replied. But I understand the question and I know the answer now.

Early the next morning, Sarah woke up, and with another person, took this little baby into town, bought her some clothes to wear, new bottles, diapers, and some formula.

If you haven’t guessed by now, little Jacinta stayed with us longer than the weekend. She was younger by far than any of the other babies that were currently at the orphanage (none of the others required feedings at night) so it was better for her and for the other babies, if we kept her at our house, fed her and took care of her.

She was still scared and confused for several days, but by the end of the first week, Sarah had coaxed a small laugh and smile out of her. Over the next five months, this little girl brought so much joy, smiles and laughter to our little home.

In September, we returned to the U.S. and began working towards returning to Mozambique, to once again be part of Jacinta’s daily life, and a whole number of other children, from 0-7 years old, that have for now been left without the benefit of a mother and father to take care of them.