This is a message that I got from a friend who just spent a few weeks in Uganda with CURE International. I just had to share her story with you. It reminds me that God loves us, broken as we are and that our hope doesn't come from anything this world can offer. It can only come from Christ and what He has done. 


So I'm not exactly sure where to start. or what to say. coming back to america makes my time in africa seem like a dream. but i'll try to jump in and give ya some insight about probably the hardest and most influential thing that happened while we were there.

The first day at the CURE children's hospital, I was chosen along with one other team member to follow the Spiritual Leadership department around the ward and pray for the babies who were suffering from hydrocephalus, brain tumors and spina bifida. Most of the babies that we saw were suffering from hydrocephalus which is a buildup of fluid in the skull which leads to a very disfigured head and causes a lot of pressure and pain. We walked into the ward which lacked air conditioning and the seemingly expected comforts of home and were greeted by smothering mosquito nets and the sound of crying babies. My team member and I both felt pretty uncomfortable about praying with these mothers because we didn't know the language, the culture and we couldn't relate to them in any obvious way. At the first babies bed, the mother proudly called herself a believer and we prayed with her and held her sweet baby as we reminded her that while her situation seems dark, the Lord will never leave her alone and is with her, even now. She cried, we cried and we moved to the next baby's bed.

As we were moving to the next bed, the Ugandan Spiritual Leader told us that the mothers at the hospital are the bravest women we will probably ever come into contact with. He said that when a baby is born with a disability in Uganda, the village shuns the mother, the husband leaves her and the baby and the whole society looks down upon her. Western Medicine tells us that this is something that can't be helped, but Ugandans lack the same biological understanding that we have. To them, it is their fault that their baby was born this way - either they did something wrong or they were cursed by someone who doesn't like them. This stigma, the Spiritual Leader told us, leads most mothers in Uganda to neglect their disabled babies until they die or even kill them themselves. The mothers that we were meeting were the ones who took it upon themselves to find a cure for their child - to travel from countries away without food or water - to leave their village and everything they knew to come to the CURE hospital for treatment. These mothers had an unspeakable amount of bravery and a faith, they told me, that came from God.

At the next baby's bed, the mother was clearly depressed. She had spent the whole night holding the baby and seemed to be at the brink of falling apart. The pastor asked me to say something to the mother and I told her that while the love of friends can be conditional and a husbands love can fall short, the love of God is perfect and unconditional. I reminded her that God's love is unfailing and He is at work in her life and the life of her sweet baby as we speak. I held her and prayed with her and reminded her that God, the CURE staff and myself love her and are here to support her.

The next day at devotions, a lady from the ICU came in and slipped a piece of paper to the pastor. At the end of the sermon, he told us that baby Claire had just passed away. The name sounded familiar and within seconds I lost all coloring in my face and I honestly thought I was going to pass out. Baby Claire was the baby whose mother I had prayed with the day before - the mama who was depressed and needed support and love. After devotions, my teammate Lauren and I went to a room where baby Claire's mom, Lydia, was waiting for her husband to arrive. He was coming from 4 hours away and driving a moped so the journey wasn't smooth. We sat with Lydia for hours - holding her, praying with her, crying with her. We told her that baby Claire was in heaven now and in no pain. I think this was the only thing that made her smile during the few hours following her baby's death. The doctor came in a little bit later and told her that baby Claire had died of a simple infection that she couldn't fight because she was malnourished. My sadness immediately turned to a passionate anger. Baby Claire died of malnourishment. Baby Claire died of poverty. Baby Claire's death was preventable. Baby Claire should still be alive.

All of this happened the second day we were there. I'm still dealing with the fact that baby Claire wasn't as lucky as I was to be born in a country where dying of malnutrition is unheard of. Seeing a 2 year old's coffin is something that will be burned in my mind forever, but the hope that was in Lydia's eyes when she knew that baby Claire was in heaven dancing with Jesus is also unforgettable. Lydia was 23 years old and had just lost her baby girl. She had no food, no clean water, only one pair of clothes and no way to get home. She had every reason to lose hope - but she didn't. Her hope was in Christ and between prayers and tears, she would smile and remind me that she knew that her sweet baby girl was in the arms of Jesus. She taught me a lesson about hope, about strength and about faith. My team member and I thought that our prayers on the first day were broken and messy, but for Lydia, they were exactly what she needed to hear.


Psalms 9:18
But the needy will not always be forgotten, nor the hope of the afflicted ever perish.