Go

Desire
Watch out
The boys

Above, you see the titles of the different posts I have swimming about in my head. No, I haven't written in a while. You'll find out part of the reason in the body of the aforementioned blogs. (That I will eventually write). For now though, I have to write in order of importance, and that happens to be something that happened today.
Rewind to last Wednesday with me first. I went to the local hospital to see the kids we are working with. The doctor asked me to come and see a little boy in the ICU. Fidele was emaciated, clearly struggling to breath, and being carefully watched by his worried mama. All eyes were on me as I walked into the 40-something bed unit. Children at different stages of acute illness were sprawled across blood and fluid-stained beds, only separated from the dirty mattress's with a colorful lappa of bright African material. Fidele shared a bed with another patient, I don't find it necessary to elaborate on that image.
I felt the eyes of desperation staring at me. My presence, my attention to just one of them undoubtedly sends the others thoughts into wondering why this boy in the corner is special.

Fidele had been seen at one of our screenings and given an appointment card to come tot he ship for a biopsy. He clearly had cancer, growing so fast it was claiming his ability to breath by pressing on his airway. It didn't look like Burkitt's, but the doctor asked if he could come to the ship for the biopsy just so they could know what they were dealing with. I knew in my heart Fidele was too sick to transport, but I arranged with the ship for the doctors at the local hospital to collect the sample, which I then brought back to put through our process. We planned to meet the next morning at 8.
In typical fashion, the doctor arrived around 10:30 and the biopsy began by 11. Right on time... (On the positive side, I learned a lot about the translator working with me. Turns out 3 hours of sitting on a bench lends to lots of diverse discussion)

I took in the sights of the treatment room where they brought Fidele. As many times as I have walked into an African hospital, I still feel my mind reject the conditions. I suppose its normal, really.
They laid him on a dirty table, graciously slipping the material he was covered with under him. He cried out in pain as they held him down. I found his hand and held it firmly. I tried to calm him by rubbing the back of his hand, feeling the bones sticking out under his dry skin. Once finished, we walked behind him and his mama, splitting up when we passed the pediatric ward so I could go see the other kids.
On the way out I felt a quick conviction that we should go and pray for Fidele.
I'll pray for him the next time we see him.
Go now

I'll pray for him when I get to the car
Go now

We've already walked nearly to the parking lot (my defense: its a long way from the car to the ward!)
Go. Now.

I've had a headache for a week, I'm so hot, this 10 minute procedure has now cost me 5 hours, this is my day off.
Suzanne, go pray for Fidele. Be an example of Me, tell him that I care for him. Show all of those people in that ICU who you serve, who you believe in.

At this point I was already driving towards the gate.
I put the car in park and began the walk back to the ICU. I felt the burden of the situation lifting with each step. I walked back into the ICU and straight to the corner bed where Fidele lay. I felt the eyes on me again, and without a translator, I gestured to the mom that I wanted to pray. A small smile greeted my actions and she bowed her head with me over her sleeping son.

God, I know you have the power to heal this boy. I know you love him. If your will is to take him home to you, please do it swiftly, end his suffering. Amen.
I said my goodbyes and left, wondering if I would see Fidele again.

When I got to the hospital today and asked about Fidele, the doctor told me he had died on Monday evening. I felt such peace in my heart. I knew God was pushing me last Thursday. I fought it with all of the pathetic energy I had that day, there are no words to describe how grateful I am that I listened in the end. I remember when people used to talk about the Holy Spirit, such an abstract thought for me to wrap my head around at the time. Maybe it is for those of you reading too. All I can say, is that when the Holy Spirit moves, you know it. It is an undeniable force when you actually shut yourself up for a second and listen.
God knew He would be calling Fidele home days after I saw him, and maybe the lesson in going to pray for him was just for me. If I know God at all though, I have a feeling He had a very specific purpose to push me that day.

Lesson #1089- When god is telling you to 'go', don't bother arguing, He knows what He's doing. It might cost you 5 minutes, or it might cost you your life as you know it. Its the right choice either way.