drawing the belly of the whale

After we read Jonah and the Whale, we asked the children to draw a picture to illustrate the story.  The kindergarteners through 2nd graders drew glorious whales with stiff, trapped Jonahs inside.  I asked them to draw God, to somehow depict what it meant for Jonah to pray to God and for God to listen, as well as for the whale to hear God's commands (the children loved it that a whale and God conversed!). My favorite illustration of God was drawn by a sweetheart of a girl, all decked out in her school uniform with ribboned braids; she had drawn three figures in the sky above Jonah, a large-headed God and two smaller faces.  When I asked her who they were, she explained that her God had two sons.  I love the idea that God has a Plan B!  Sometimes, Jesus needs a break.

We visited with 60 children in 2 hours, all children so eager for a wink or a smile, a little squeeze or a mini-exchange in French,  They sang with gusto, hugged as though they knew us forever, and begged for stickers and crayons because their classrooms were bare. 

After Bible school had ended, the children were released and joined the long, long line of people waiting to be seen in the medical clinic.  People waited hours and hours and hours to see a clinician! 

It's not easy to draw the inside of a whale's belly, or to see God in those darkest, trapped places.  I found it interesting that the older children were unable to imagine the whale's belly, asking us to draw examples on the chalkboard.  I would like to think this was because they had never known the sensation of being stuck,or paralyzed by misery, but it is more likely because only the littlest children have the opportunity to imagine. The skills erode but the hope is there. How else can we get out of the belly of a whale?

in the Belly of the Whale

In the Belly of the Whale

I loved falling asleep to the sound of rain blasting the roof. The dusty, dry land here was begging for relief. I love waking up to a rooster, crowing long before dawn, drowning the soft coos of the pigeons gathering for their morning meeting.

I fell asleep thinking about the B like Britt orphanage and I awoke to continue those thoughts, marveling at the Gengel family who transformed their grief into a miracle. After driving through the rubble and poverty of the city, we raced along the coast, noting the tropical waters and palm trees, dotted with bony cows and goats. There were attempts at beach resorts here and there, abandoned and ramshackle places that served as squatting zones and gathering spots, littered with trash and sounding with children.

Then, there is the B Like Britt orphanage – on the crest of a high hill, on a real road built for this purpose, overlooking the ocean and the green mountains. I am not sure what impressed me more, the clean, hopeful structure or the playful children busily roughhousing, building train tracks, and braiding each other's hair, or the Gengles themselves – approachable, hospitable people who spoke of their journey over the past few years with a spirit of gratitude. That is the prayer for the day, creatively changing grief into gratitude over and over.

We begin the medical clinics this morning, and I am not sure what to expect on this first day. It only seemed appropriate to dive into Jonah and the Whale, to reflect on being in the belly of the whale from a place that feels like being in the belly of the whale: sewage and fumes, tent cities and hungry children, and an unstoppable faith to burst through the toughest moments.

An Infant May Die Tonight

An infant may die tonight. She is maybe 5 months old. She, her siblings, her mother are covered from head to toe in skin infections. They have lice. They are dehydrated. The baby hadn't eaten in two days. She did not have energy to cry and when she did, she did not have enough hydration to generate tears. The doctors fear her kidneys are in partial failure.

An infant may die tonight. She and her family were taken to the hospital. The hospital separated the older siblings and the mother from the infant as they had to go to separate hospitals. One of our caregivers stayed with the infant. Waited. Waited.

An infant may die tonight. After waiting two hours a yellow form was needed. The yellow form was two buildings away, but must be filled out.

An infant may die tonight. The doctors would not provide an IV or medicines. Those must be purchased on the street and then the doctors may administer them. The mother must stay with the infant as there are no nurses to provide care. The mother must stay for a month.

An infant may die tonight. The mother cannot stay. She has other sick children. She has a sick sister at home. She leaves with her dying child.

An infant may live tonight. Drops of hydration fluid are given to her as she leaves the hospital. After a while she is drinking some. And she eventually urinates a little.

An infant may live tonight. It is not certain.

Pray.

Pray.

Pray.