Funeral

I woke up to wailing this morning: professional criers, it almost sounds like singing. I knew it was too late.

On Monday morning the girl from across the street came to ask if I could take her to her 21 month old son who was in hospital- diarrhoea. I had an appointment, and promised to take her Tuesday morning early. Tuesday morning I arrived and found the house empty. Later the  other neighbor came to say the baby's condition was getting serious, I promised she and I could go take a look this morning, Wednesday morning.

When I woke up this morning, I could hear it was too late, I did not have to go to the hospital.

I walked over with our neighbor who can speak English. In a room/house the little blue blanket laid, surrounded by the oldest ladies in the community. I was told to enter, my translator friend could not. I sat down, but soon the flowing Tonga was too much for me. Outside I found the middle aged ladies sitting next to the wall. I greeted and then proceeded to the mother of the boy.

She just sat there. The wailing was from the extended family, the mother and (very involved and caring) grandmother were quiet. The emotions too real. I sat down, and did not know what to say. We had prayed for the little boy, but God decided that he was better off somewhere else. Not the time to say so. They know, they would never question God. So, I just sat for a while.

There is a flow of people coming and going at the house ever since. The body has been buried this morning in the front yard. There will be people sleeping here until Friday, three days of wake keeping (if that is the right term).

I came home to hear that the baby that I wrote to you about the other day, the one that we took the lady to hospital, had also passed away in hospital.

I'm not so sure how to explain all this to Rashelle anymore.

Monday night I was struggling with Rashelle- she was vomiting most of the night. After a while, she did not even wake anymore, just vomited. Last night Simon's chest closed up again. I said to Carl, the thing is, we have a choice- o the luxury. If need be, we drive to Lusaka (4 hours away), and we get help. These mothers' choices are limited.

So, I praise God that He kept me from being the one standing next to a grave today, but my heart aches for the thousands, maybe millions of mother hearts that are just aching today. Some not so far away. May God's grace carry them, and may we have to privilege to tell them that God is with them.