Wednesday morning

Sometimes the most beautiful things in life are the most simple, the most, if you will rude situations. Today our group was able to witness one of those moments.


We traveled to Bole Bulbula Church where our translator Vicki wanted us to visit a “bead factory”. In order to become self sufficient and provide some source of income for their families (instead of begging on the street, etc.) the women make clay beads. We traveled on a rocky dusty road and arrived at the Church, which houses the “factory”. Inside the dimly lit 10 x 10 room, 10 women huddled around a table. Seated on plastic chairs, some with children in their laps, they rubbed clay pieces against a smooth rock to polish beads for jewelry then gently placed them into a basket. From 9-4, hunched over and quietly visiting, they do this to sell to visitors to provide for their family.


They are paid $400 Burr a month (the equivalent of $25 US). We asked them to tell us their stories; some were widowed; some had husbands; some were single mothers. They softly spoke about how many children they had, if their husbands were fortunate enough to have jobs, and told us their names. They ranged in ages from 18 and older.


Thanks to many generous donations, we were able to bless them with $500 Burr each (just a little over a month’s salary.) As Vicki (our translator) handed out the money, they each bowed and whispered thank you in Amharic. They then asked if they could pray for our group...which was, simply put, one of the most beautiful prayers I have ever heard. As the woman spoke in Amharic, our translator explained what she was saying...”God, even though our skins are different colors...and we are different...thank you that we are ONE in you.” They were making a clicking sound with their lips, which we found out later is the sound for when “something touches your heart in Ethiopia.” Lots of tears from all of the women bonded us together forever!! We stepped outside the church where an older woman was picking up sticks and brush to use. We gave her the same donation--and her hands were so full with branches that Vicki put it ih her skirt waistband. As she set her pile down, she raised mud caked hands and her face to heaven in thanks. She then turned and thanked us, but then quickly turned around and kept lifting her hands and face to God in thankfulness. More tears.


Our next stop was the Green Light International Church...where another “bead factory” is housed. We again asked to hear the women’s stories, were able to bless them with the same donation, and again heard an amazing prayer as they asked God to bless our group. I was so stunned that here we are...fortunate beyond belief...to have these women ask God to bless US. Again, tears and the clicking sounds filled the room. I wanted so badly to pray for them--but no one could muster even a strong voice to be able to do so. As I heard their prayers for us, I asked God to bless THEM more. Give to THEM more abundantly. Make THEIR lives, certainly not mine--more than they could ask or imagine.


Vicki and I spoke on the way home about how honored she is to work with these women, and how even she has more than enough--a husband with a job, employment herself, and a home. She explained it’s hard for her to visit these women and walk away with any complaints at all. Then she told me about some older people who live on the street--the elderly who are alone and completely dependent on others to care for them. Some have leprosy...which is so advanced it has taken their hands and eyes. One gentleman was crying alone, when she asked him what was wrong. “I can’t see to get to where food is. There is no one to help me. Can you help me get food?” She cried as she told me she wants so much to help everyone around her-there are so many here who need help. The elderly cry to Jesus to take them home so they can be at peace and never be hungry again...free from pain and suffering.


It struck such a deep chord in me as just this morning I received a text from my sister that my Grandmother (that we call Oodie-who is on hospice) is not doing well. I couldn’t get over the differences in situations: even though ready to “go home”...my Oodie is in a warm place, with caregivers surrounding her, loving family, and medicine to make her peaceful and restful as her body shuts down. These elderly men and women (many just in their 60’s)...sit in the street...begging for someone to have mercy on them and give them food or physically take their hand and lead them to a place where someone might help. No family...no medicine to take away their pain from leprosy...no relief. Jesus, remember them.


This afternoon we are headed to the Fistula Hospital where we will hand out gift bags full of lotion, soap, chapstick and other items. Will update later. Thanks for your prayers, and please lift up the women we saw today and the forgotten in the streets to Jesus.


Fistula Hospital


The boys headed to the Sheraton to swim this afternoon...they were ready for some downtime and relaxation. Most of the women went to tour the Fistula Hospital, which is featured in the documentary “A Walk to Beautiful.” (You can find it on You Tube). http://www.engelentertainment.com/walktobeautiful/trailer.html

Their mission is wholehearted commitment to women with childbirth injuries, with God’s love and compassion.


Gated, secure and private, the hospital does tours by appointment only. This is to insure the privacy of the hospital patients. The grounds are very quiet and filled with beautiful flowers and green grass...the first spot of color we’ve seen in this very dusty and dirt filled city.

Our guide gave us an overview of the hospital; women who have trouble delivering a baby during labor (most babies die in the womb, very few survive) develop fistula problems which causes urine and bowel leakage. Families banish the women from the house due to the smell and mess; they are left to live outside, where they will most likely die. Villages even make the families outcasts in some situations. Our guide explained some women arrive at the hospital carried on the backs of their fathers or brothers just to get help to become whole again.


Most women stay 2-3 months after surgery to rehabilitate. During that time they can learn a trade and life skills to help them adjust back into their families and communities, plus be a source of income as well.


The hospital was such a lovely environment and such a source of hope and grace. We were able to visit the gift shop where patients display their crafts and purchase items that directly benefit their families. Another amazing fact is that the hospital relies on donations-and each patient does not pay anything for the operation or stay!


Tonight-Yo Abyssinia. Tomorrow, Trees of Glory School!