It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...

The past couple days have been both wonderful and horrifying. The hospital was unlike anything I'd ever experienced, and I was one of the team members that Amanda talked about as weeping from the very beginning. The first people we saw were final stage patients, just lying on cots, contorted in pain, dried vomit still on their lips. I just couldn't stop myself from sobbing. One man asked me to pray over him, and I did, but I was crying the whole time. I wasn't able to compose myself with Randy's other-worldly, purposeful kindness. Through every room and every ward I just cried and cried.

Until we got to the Burn Ward. At first Ellen, Issac and Mary's oldest daughter, said we would not go in there because it was too much to see, but as soon as she told me it was the burn ward something deep inside switched and my game face came on. I knew I could do it and I knew I needed to do it. She protested, reminding me that I'd been crying the whole time, but I said "Yeah, but it'll be okay." After that it was like I was in a protective bubble. I walked up to the room and saw Ray turn back almost immediately after going in. In some deep down part of me I was a little afraid, but more than that I was just aware that whatever was around the corner was completely beyond anything I'd ever experienced or imagined. I turned the corner and came in the room just as Amanda had to turn and leave, hand over her mouth. The smell was intense. The first thought I had was that this poor boy must still be smouldering. It smelled like he was still on fire, and I wanted to put it out. My second though was just one word: Auschwitz. I'd read about the smell of burning flesh and how you never forget it, and that experience will stay with me forever. I didn't cry, though. I was okay with it, somehow. I took a couple pictures, knowing that for some reason that it was important, though I don't think anyone else will ever see them. I don't even want to describe what I saw because it was too graphic. At the same time I felt horrible that this poor, innocent boy should be rendered so revolting that he would have to come with a graphic content advisory. I was completely fine until I laid my hand on his wailing mother and tried to pray for her. I lost it then. I couldn't speak, I couldn't even make words in my head, I just let my heart cry out to God.

I want, or maybe need, to tell you more about my experience with the hospital, but if it is too difficult for you to read, then please don't. Just writing it down and sending it out into the ether makes me feel better. When we came back from the hospital the entire team seemed in shock. I was running on auto-pilot and didn't really cry the rest of the time we were in the hospital. It had been hard before the burn victim, but after that I just wanted to leave. I've realized that no one asked the boy's name. We've always just referred to him as "The Burn Victim" or "That Boy." I think it was too much to add a name to the face. Randy is a missionary nurse and took a look at the pictures afterward (he was occupied elsewhere at the time). He told us that he expected that boy to die within hours, hopefully that night. That gave us all some measure of peace.

Once I got back to the house and I knew I was "safe" I immediately broke down. I had a good cry and felt a little better, but I still felt like I was carrying something toxic in my camera. I felt that I had taken the pictures for a reason, but at the same time I could not imagine what on earth that could be or who on earth I could show the pictures to. I don't even think I can show you guys. I just don't want to expose anyone to it. But again, I felt terrible that this boy should be hidden as though he was shameful. I don't know if he was responsible for the fire or not, but he did not deserve that, and he didn't deserve to be turned into a monster. I was afraid to look through my old pictures because I didn't want to come across them before, but just like getting back on the beam after falling down, I forced myself to look at them this morning. They were terrible, but actually not as terrible as they had become in my imagination. Just goes to show that the light is always better than the darkness, because God is light and in Him is no darkness. It is always better to expose things to the light of truth and knowledge than to let them fester in the darkness. Once again I was okay looking at the pictures. I have no earthly idea why.

Last night our team came back with hearts shattered, and for the first time we glided past each other without speaking. I was afraid our team had been splintered from the pain, but after a rousing dinner and a team devo last night I'm feeling much more relieved and we seem to be stronger and soothed by one another. Amanda thought that God was nowhere in that room, but Jana had an emotional and physical bubble around her that allowed her to minister to them. Ray felt that he had failed by leaving the room so quickly, but Ray leaving acted as a warning to me and is part of what enabled me to walk into that room without flinching.

In better news, yesterday we took all the kids to the beach. Although I got car sick there and back, today I feel great and yesterday was so much fun. I got to teach Ellen and Jony (pronounced Joanie) how to swim in the freaking Bay of Bengal. The kids were so much fun and had a fabulous time jumping over the waves, just like we did growing up in California. We played a rousing game of volleyball and some of the kids made sandcastles that were cones with crosses on the front. I asked the kids what they were, and heard both "house" and "church." To them their house is their church, so it makes wonderful sense!

Two quick pictures of Isaac with the kids:
The first was the other morning when the girls did my hair. I stumbled across Isaac sitting on a cot in one of the rooms, a gaggle of girls surrounding him, laughing and looking at him adoringly. He was giving out lotion for the girls to use on their faces, but he would put it on his finger then get the girls to lean in one by one and playfully dab it on their cheeks and nose. The second just happened this afternoon. The kids went to school this morning and Amanda came across Isaac sitting with the kids on the steps, lovingly asking them what they learned in school today. You cannot really imagine that SH is a family until you see it. I mean, what family has 71 children that are all loved and cared for like a true son or daughter? These people, though, are amazing. Mary is a beautiful mother hen (even over us younger team girls), and Isaac is a compassionate, intelligent and much-beloved father. Sometimes it is hard to read Isaac, but he has an amazing heart and once you get to know him and hear about some of the things that he has done for people you know that this man has a heart of absolute gold.

We love you and feel your prayers while we are here.

Peace and love,
Grace