Medicine of the world

“Medicine of the world”

I went on a run tonight. It was still light outside but the sun was quickly trading places with the moon and I was racing to beat it. The plan was to run around for a little while and get to the market before the sun was down. That way, I could get home before dark (No worries, Mom and Dad, it’s safe). I had been running for about 15 minutes when I saw 4 kids under the age of 10 huddled in the dirt with their mother. I stopped, greeted them, and asked if they wanted bread. The eldest (9) told me “no” which was the strangest answer. He pointed to his head and then to his mother. I asked, “Inatish?” “Your mother?” I looked at a little girl. She nodded her head. I asked her, “Edmish sentino?” “How old are you?” “Suhment”. “Eight” she answered. “Edmish sentino?” I looked at the youngest. “Sost.” “Three” said the 8 year old, answering for her little sister. I looked at the oldest brother and pointed to my head. “Chigger Alla?” “Is there a problem?” “Ou”. “Yes.”

The mother had pulled the blanket down and looked at me. I was kneeling with the family and waddled over to the mother. I’m not a doctor. I barely speak Amharic. I had no idea what I could do and I knew the reason the boy didn’t want bread was because he’d have come with me to get it and he wasn’t about to leave his mother. I put my hand out and prayed. I prayed for healing and blessings… in English. “Amen.” I looked up and the children smiled. “Medahalialam.” “Medicine of the world” I whispered (Medicine is their word for Savior). They nodded. This family broke me. They sat in a pile of dirt. Their clothes were ripped shirts and shorts. They were each malnourished. Yet, they smiled.

I cannot count the number of times these sorts of interactions happen. On my walk home I thought about all of the support I had to raise to get here. It was hard work, and strategically mapping out all of the details was difficult. Asking for money isn’t something I’m comfortable doing either. But, from the moment I stood at the airport gate with shaking legs, a reliable backpack, and my parents behind me, people like you have prayerfully and financially accompanied this journey. When I give to people, it’s you who’s giving. When I receive, it’s you receiving as well. I am grateful to have been sent by you and I thank you for being apart of it. P.S. I saw Berano (the “give us our daily bread” man). It was about 3 days ago and I gave him a big piece of cake and water. He had the exact same reaction as before. He kissed my hands. I kissed his hands. He cried, and I did too