Day 2, Searching for Water, On Foot

I'm really not sure what this project is officially called, so I shall rename it each day - I like naming!

This morning Coco was sick, with a sore tummy. As I made her toast with vegemite, and peppermint tea, I thought to myself "This is more like the lives of my African sisters." Coco's face looking up at me was so trusting and loving. She didn't want me to leave, and we did meerkat kisses and horse kisses and dinosaur kisses. Eowyn and Benjamin are also unwell, however, not being morning people, their farewells were somewhat sleepy!

As I ran out into the sunny, cool morning, I realised, with a little shame, that when an impoverished woman's child is sick, it often means they will soon die. I remember, conducting the antenatal clinic at Kirema in Uganda, almost every woman who came to me, pregnant, had lost at least one child. "On the first day, she cried all the time, and was hot. On the second day, she was quiet. On the third third day, she died," said a young mother, looking down as she spoke. Fever, diarrhoea, dehydration, little things easily cured in wealthy Western doctors' surgeries and chemists, taking the lives of people's darling children.

Coco had asked me to pray the circle prayer for her as I ran, 'Jesus, encircle Coco & Eowyn & Benjamin, keep sickness out and peace in.' I am feeling very sad at the moment for my dear friend Jennifer, in Seattle, whose two year old little girl Lydia has just been diagnosed with cancer, and will be having an aggressive course of treatment. 'Jesus, encircle Lydia and Jennifer and Chad and Ruthie and David. Keep healing in and harm out.' We are small and vulnerable, mothers, sisters, daughters, standing together in this world of sorrow. Running slowly uphill, a little puffed out, hoping to somehow connect with the sisterhood, despite the disparity in our wealth.


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