A friend told me the other night that I need to share more stories. That I need to share more about what I am doing here and being a voice for those who haven’t found theirs yet. As I scrolled through my Instagram and Facebook accounts I realized that everything I have posted looks like I’m kind of just lounging around and playing with kids. So I decided to write this story.
The story about how most nights I crawl into the comfort of my bed and I shake with anxiety. The story about how some of the things I see make me cringe so hard it hurts. The story where I’m afraid to cry because when I do, the tears don’t run dry. The story that I don’t know how how share because the words that you will read here will never be able to capture the true emotion. The story that I am often afraid to tell.
You see days here are not easy. They are emotionally and physically draining and yet 100% of the time the most rewarding thing you could imagine. I often loose my thoughts and words because I’m afraid to hold onto them. Forever etched into my soul and things I will never forget.
A few days ago we had a removal at the outreach house. There were 24 new patients needing their jiggers removed. The day went from laughter and joy to the sounds of cries and screams from small children in pain from having their jiggers removed. I had to flip a switch, I had to turn my emotions off. I had to sit next to a 6 year old boy who was sitting on his fathers lap and help hold his leg down so he didn’t jerk and hurt himself while the jiggers were removed with safety pins from his feet. I handed out sweeties to children hoping that it would help distract them from their discomfort but for some of them their suckers only melted away from the tears that ran non stop from their faces. I watch a foot half the size of mine have 230 jiggers removed from it. I witnessed pain like never before. 1,688 jiggers were removed that day from 24 people. And 2 of those people hand to stop having their jiggers removed because the pain was too great. They will have to be done over a period of days.
You see I can’t write these stories because I hear their cries, I see their tears and my heart shatters. As soon as I try to pick up the pieces it shatters again. The thing that keeps me going is the fact that I know what they go through to have them removed is hell but I get to see the freedom in their eyes and a new sense of hope in their smiles when they leave fully recovered and jigger free 2 weeks from now. The role I play here is like an ant compared to an elephant. Tiny, insignificant and small. But I get to see how a life can be transformed and be set free because the pain that was endured. These children are my heroes, these parents are fierce and I know that at the end of the day when I lay in bed shaking with emotions that it’s worth it because to be apart of something like this changes you in ways you never knew you could be changed.
The kid in this picture has completely stollen my heart over the last week. One of the patients at outreach house right now, he will be leaving in the next few days.
He is the kind of kid whose smile can light up a room, the kind who can make you cry because his love is genuine.
When I walk in the gates at outreach he runs up to me and grabs my hand. He pulls me over to where the other kids are and we start kicking around a ball or playing a game. We can’t understand each other and yet his eyes speak wonders. Eyes that have seen pain, hurt and heartache at such a young age. He is just a boy, a kid who enjoys laughing at a mizungu who tries to play futbol like she knows what she is doing. To him, I am just someone who has shown kindness and a fun person to play with. To me, he has taught me that loving people is one of the biggest blessings you can give someone. Even if it means having your heart broken when they leave.
That’s all we have in life, it’s the only thing we have. Love, love to give and a heart to receive it. It’s not easy because loving others takes time and is incredibly vulnerable but when you learn to think outside yourself you realize that it is the biggest gift you can give or receive. Love comes in the shape of a soccer ball for some of these kids. It also comes in the shape of small little pictures that they get to see of themselves on my phone. It comes from the fact that there are actually people who care about them and want to see them live a life free from jiggers, shame and discomfort.
Living life here isn’t easy. Letting people in is hard. Pouring out into these kids is time consuming. But every moment that I have the opportunity to I do because that is what we are called to do. To love others as Christ has loved us. And it is one of the hardest things I have ever had to learn how to do.
Live a Life Worth Living 
Larissa, You are learning so much about yourself and what Christmas has for your life. I pray for you and know that He will continue the great work that has been started in you until He calls it completed.
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