Holding her I can feel the sadness and pain from her life seep into my heart. She is so dear to me and my heart swells and hurts. Why is there so much pain in this world? Why so many warped minds and twisted bodies? Why so many blood thirsty, conniving people? Why so much war?
Her family was chased out of their home. Her grandpa was killed in the war in Congo. Her grandma was pregnant with her fifth child when grandpa was killed. She had to run away from their home seeking safety, just her and her four small children. It's actually a miracle that grandma and all of the kids made it out alive. They then spent 16 years in the camp. 16 years of homeless. 16 years of no where else to go. This little one's mom is now 24. She has three kids and is pregnant with her fourth. This one I am holding is her third. She had her first at 14. She came to the U.S. a year and a half ago. It only took 10 years of paperwork.
Grandma is 52 now. She succeeded in getting all but one of her kids and grandkids to America. I don't think we even realize how amazing that is. She's also only been here for a year and a half. She started feeling sick last week. Monday she went to the hospital. Wednesday, February 27 she died.
You've got to be kidding me.
She. Just. Got. Here.
The little one in my lap is sleeping now. Her head resting against my shoulder. Her stomach rising and falling against mine. She knows what's going on. You can feel it in her clinging arms and hear it in her whimpering voice. She's feeling the pain. I'm sure the torrent of tears rushing down my face earlier with the phone pressed to my ear didn't help. I had just been told her grandma had died. The little one had climbed into my lap and patted my wet cheek.
This whole week the famous verse from Job 1:21, "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of The Lord,” has kept running through my head. But at this point it isn't comforting. It just makes me mad.
