There is however one thing about India that crosses my mind regularly – that pulls on my heart – that often causes me to tear up. And that thing is a little boy named David. He was seven months old when I met him last year. We were told he had an older sibling that died of kidney failure when he was David’s age – and David had kidney problems as well. He wasn’t expected to live more than a few weeks or months. And every time I see his face in my mind my heart hurts. It hurts to think that he is most likely no longer with his mother and sister, both of whom we met. It’s hard to know that if he was born in a different family, region or country, that there is a very good possibility that he would still be alive today. It’s hard to think about the injustice of children dying. It’s hard to think of his mother and the pain she must have experienced losing two kids. Yet she is a Christian and is following God.
I think I know why God sent me to that village on the other side of the world to meet David – because He knew David’s face would be permanently engrained in my mind. That as time passes, that image will not. I have a passion for the hurting and David’s face keeps me focused. He keeps me in check. He spurs me on.
A seven month old child from a small village in India.
His life was obviously not without purpose.
Maybe that’s what God’s plan was all along.
[David and Shelley - one of the rare moments where he wasn't smiling]
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