Going home

We have been visiting Enock since the beginning of this outreach. A shy boy with a sweet smile, we always looked forward to drawings and small folded notes from him when we would go visit. He is the little boy I told the story of how he made me a get well card one day when I wasn't able to visit, one of the many actions a child has done that will stay with me the rest of my life.
A few months ago his mom made the decision to fight against his cancer. She knew the oncologist here isn't trustworthy, that he may not do right by Enock, but what was her alternative?

His tumor responded, he regained some of his childhood. He returned to school and he joked with his brothers and sister. He acted tough with his friends and cuddled with his mama.
He was a 7 year old again.

In only 1 month, his tumor came back. This time it was even more angry, more aggressive, and stole back Enock's care-free childhood.
Last week we went to his house where he could hardly hold his head up. His mama leaned in and held her cheek against his closed eye. She kissed the bridge of his nose with her thick lips, an action so tender my heart fell. She was watching her youngest boy, her baby, die.
On Monday we learned Enock had been brought down to a clinic in the city where his aunt worked. We found him in a cool cement room with a soft breeze and clean sheets. He rested on a pillow and his mama smiled as she watched him sleep. He woke up from time to time and asked for 'coca', he smiled a bit when I told him he was a man after my own heart by drinking coca cola. At one point he asked for me so I moved from the top of the bed where I had been holding his hands to the bed with him. I held him up as he sipped his coke, I laid my arm on his chest while he weakly held onto me. I kissed his hands when he would open his eyes, searching for familiarity in that second of confusion. We stayed and talked about Enock, about what a special boy he was. His mom told us a story from the morning when she had gone about changing his bed. Enock, who was too weak to lift his head, was found by his mama on his knees in front of his bed praying when she came back into the room. He had found the strength to kneel before Jesus. I asked him if he wanted us to sing to him and he nodded 'yes'.
mon Dieu est bon
my God is good
I can't stop crying while writing this. I can't.

Yesterday we went to see him again and his mama wanted us to bring him home with her. They weren't sleeping well there and Enock missed his brothers and sister. We loaded into the car, Enock laid across the back resting on myself and his mom. I carried him into his house, whispering "look, you're home. We brought you home", and gently placed him on the couch. He smiled at his sister and then drifted back to sleep. We prayed for him and I kissed his face.
Edabo, Enock.
goodbye

We got the call this morning that Enock had died. I held Luc who happened to be next to me when someone told us the news. I hugged him tight fighting these same tears that take my breath away now.
This afternoon, Mariette (Aime's mom) came by the ship. I had picked up some fabric a week ago as a gift for her as she just recently, since Aime has died, graduated from pharmacy school. She walked down the dock sporting the dress she had made with the fabric and she proudly showed me her diploma. Right before she left she pulled out some pictures, one of her and I lay among them. My eye caught another one, one of Aime before he showed any signs of the lymphoma that claimed his life.
There was no way to control the tears falling. It was too much today, I couldn't help it. She smiled in understanding, and we hugged as we have a million times.

And now, now my heart aches so deeply, it hurts so much. I think of Enock, about his mama who must be so devastated to lose the son she loved so much.
Just now I googled 'edabo' to find out if I was spelling it right. Fon is a funny language, almost none of the people who speak it can read or write it. The results showed some friends blogs from the ship, one of them being my friend Richard. I read through one of his posts, about another patient who died, and found comfort in the verses he included.
Psalm 116:3-7

3 The sorrows of death surrounded me, and the pains of Sheol came upon me; I found trouble and sorrow.
4 Then I called upon the name of Yahweh; O Yahweh, I beg You, deliver my being.
5 Full of unmerited favour is Yahweh, and He is righteous; yes, our God is full of mercy.
6 Yahweh preserves the simple: I was brought low and He helped me.
7 Return to your rest, O my being, for Yahweh has treated you well.

I am not afraid of brokenness,
wash Your feet with humble tears
I will be poured out till nothings left
I just want to wait on you, my God
Lord, I just want to dwell in who you are
-Kari Jobe