This is my African Grandmother, TaTaa. She captured my heart from the first time I met her during my time in Karamoja, Uganda.
Not only was TaTaa malnourished, but she was also neglected, forgotton. When she bacame sick, her surrounding family assumed she would die...and so she was basically dead to them. TaTaa can not use her hands to gather or cook food, or even feed herself. She cannot use her legs to walk, even to go to the bathroom. So she crawls through the dirt and mud to the edge of her compound.
But to add to her state, she could no longer bathe herself, dependant on those around her to do this daunting task. We provided clean clothes and soap, yet weeks went by without TaTaa being bathed. She wore the same ragged skirt and shirt day and night, covered in filth and feces.
So one day, I decided it had been long enough and I would do it by myself. So, I walked down the familiar trail to TaTaa's house. I somehow recruited a few of her surrounding granddaughters, and we bathed TaTaa!! It was a windy day. As soon as we would wash off an area, more dust would blow onto her cold, wet skin. It seemed almost pointless, but completely worth it to see the dignity in her eyes that day. I will never forget the sight of the water puddled in the gaps of her malnourished shoulder and neck bones. Or my attempt to wash under her armpit, and my fingers being unable to reach the height between her arms and her body. It was horrific. But she never once complained.
We dried her off and put on her clean clothes. She smiled.
Then there were her dirty clothes. I gathered them up, along with her thin blanket and other dirty clothes and took them to our house, so I could wash them. Hand wash them, that is.
I filled the 2 laundry basins with water. One for washing, rinsing, and then an empty one for the wrung out clothes that were ready to be put on the clothes line.
I began to wash. With the first item, the water had already turned from clean to murky brown. Water splashed on me, I was up to my elbows in the filthy water. A splash here and a splash there, I was covered. Covered in filth and feces. Then I went to empty the wash basin, and the goat laying on the ground, stretched out it's leg, and tripped me! More water went all over my shirt.
All that to say, here's the lesson learned:
Getting involved in the lives of others is messy. Sometimes, you just have to get covered in their mess, in their filth. There are a lot of people hurting around us, ones that it is so much easier just to pass by, pretend we don't see them. But we have to get our hands and our hearts dirty in the lives of others to reach out to them. To be a beakon of light and life into them. To love them. Didn't Jesus come down from heaven to meet us in our filth? To pour his life out so that we may be made clean?
That is what I am trying to do with my life. Pour my life out into others, even when it is the messiest and most uncomfortable of situations. And hope that others will join me in the mess of mine also.
