chickens and sparrows

Today was a strange day, so full of contrasts. It's that mix of joy and heartbreak that's so common here, the mix that somehow never feels quite right.

There was Maurius, sitting like a king on his bed, propped up in a wash basin, tucked in all around with lappas so he couldn't fall down, reigning over his corner of A Ward with wide eyes and ready smiles. He's drinking all his milk by mouth now, and if he keeps this up he'll be home by the end of the weekend, fat and happy.

But then, of course, there's O'Brien in the corner across from him, struggling so hard to breathe that his tiny heart has started to fail him. And so, under the watchful eye of King Maurius, we bundled O'Brien up and made the walk back down the hall to the ICU yet again, the place where we saw his life miraculously spared just a few weeks ago.

Knowing what happened before, we haven't been hesitant to pray for healing, gathering in little groups all across the hospital to plead God for life, but miracles have been slow to appear today. Instead, we've watched as his body struggled to get enough oxygen. We've tried everything short of a ventilator (something that isn't an option anymore, given everything else going on), and still his body is failing him. We've been MacGuyver and Inspector Gadget and the Professor from Gilligan's Island, rigging up one failed solution after another to help him breathe, but nothing is really working. Right now he's wrapped up in his mama's lappa, a wire hanger twisted around to form a frame for the plastic bag, being filled with pure oxygen, that he's resting inside, and still he struggles.

I don't know what's going to happen with O'Brien. I don't know how many days God wrote into his book before he was born, and my heart trembles to think that we might be nearing the last page.

And down the hall in A Ward, after praying for our little sparrow baby at handover, we all stood in a circle with Aissa in the middle, and we danced the chicken dance. Nurses and translators and a little girl with her head all wrapped in a bandage, dancing the chicken dance right in the face of all this pain.

It's hard to get used to it.

.....

In other news, I wanted to share a photo of Liz, Aissa and I on Togo's independence day, while we had Aissa hard at work churning out those Togolese flags. (Remember; give her a task, and she's set.) It's hard to see behind the flag she's holding up, but you can catch a glimpse of the balloon tower taped to her head. She is one classy kid.

And speaking of classy, there's just one more day to register for the giveaway. Don't miss your chance to win a little piece of Africa! I've been having so much fun hearing from so many of you who don't normally comment. It's amazing to hear about people who've adopted from Africa, people who have a heart for this continent, people who've done hilarious, dangerous things and people who think that jaywalking somehow counts towards living life on the edge. (coughDinacough) I think I'll definitely be doing this again soon.