Harsh Reality

''I was going to write specifically for my blog on this situation, but I decided I would share a few of my journal entries with you. I feel that these are more personal and share how I was feeling in the moment. I ask you to please take a moment to lift Patricia up in prayer after reading. Thank you

Wednesday, June 18^th 2014

I rolled over in bed and switched on my alarm clock and read 6am. With five minutes to spare I found myself in prayer asking God to use me during the day.

The day proceeded as usual, nothing out of the ordinary at school besides the teachers and myself being visited by the mother of one of my students, Patricia.

We had previously heard about the situation she was about to share with us, but had not realized the severity of it. She proceeded to tell us that the previous Friday afternoon, Patricia was outside of her house, running with friends when she grabbed onto a wire that was hanging from the roof of a house.

Let me mind you, this wire was connected to some electric wires and it had recently rained. Barefoot, and the situation as it was, Patricia was electrocuted. She was unable to scream for help as she stood helpless stuck on the wire, electricity running through her body and the flesh on her hand burning.

Luckily someone was near and saw what was happening and quickly grabbed a bench and wacked the wire with it, releasing Patricia from it. She fell to the ground and was unable to speak or walk. They carried her to the road, gave her milk, and quickly took her to a nearby clinic.

Awestruck by the situation, myself and two other teachers decided to head over to her home that afternoon to visit her. I didn’t ever think I would be heading into what I was about to deal with.

Allan, Patricia’s brother lead us down through homes to their own one room house. I took my shoes off and stepped inside where I was offered a seat on the couch. I scanned the home only to realize I was sitting directly next to Patricia who was sitting couched in a corner.

She was her quiet self. I said hello and asked how she was and gave her a fizzy soda and some sweeties. I didn’t ask, but she began unwrapping toilet paper from her very swollen hand.

The anger hit me. How could this happen? This innocent little girl; electrocuted outside her own home. My stomach turned as I saw white flesh in open wounds and liquid seeping out. The smell.

All I could say was that we needed to clean it and clean it well as soon as possible. I knew we had supplies at school, so her mother got for me a boda and I headed over to the school. It was a short, yet tear filled ride. And one spent in prayer asking for God’s help and strength.

I arrived safely back at her home and began the process of cleaning and bandaging her wounds properly.

I joked with her and asked if I was supposed to be her teacher or her doctor. She sweetly replied, “teacher.” I told her how much I loved her and assured her she would be fine and that all things work together for the good of God.

I’ve washed my hands three times and the smell still sits on them reminding me of this horror.

It’s ripping me to shreds. I can’t keep the tears back. Suddenly those cute baby goats were not so cute anymore, but something that only reminded me of the harsh reality of a third world country. These children deserve better. They deserve to be safe in their own homes.

It’s hard to realize that I can’t always protect my students. And it’s hard to accept the risky lifestyle they live. A lifestyle that they have no choice to not live in.

Thursday, June 19^th 2014

Things didn’t go according to planned today. It was actually my day off from teaching so I just hung out around the school waiting for Sherry to arrive to she could go see Patricia’s condition herself.

At one point I was laying down on a seating area around the school, listening to some music on my iPod.

“It’s gonna be a hard day, so hang on, don’t panic, don’t panic, there simply is no need.”

I should have known at that very moment.

Sherry arrived with some team members and we headed over to Patricia’s home. Upon seeing Patricia’s wounds, Sherry called her surgeon and decided we would take her to the hospital right away.

At the hospital, the surgeon came to look at her wounds. He wrote a prescription and advised me on how and when to clean and bandage her wounds. Simple.

Then we waited for the nurse, who took Sherry, Patricia, and myself back into a room where he poured some different things onto the wounds to clean them. Simple. All was good.

But then he began to inject the wounds with something to numb the pain. The injections themselves had to of been excruciatingly painful. Tears rolled down Patricia’s cheeks and screams began to leave her mouth. I quickly rushed to her side to attempt to comfort her. The pain only worsened. The tears came quicker, cries became louder, and Sherry and I found ourselves holding this sweet girl down so we would could get the injections completed.

Tears began to well in my own eyes as I held a 12 year old girl, my student, down on the table. The sight and sounds became unbearable and the simple fact that my P4 student who is bigger than me and stronger than me, I was unable to hold her down.

Sherry yelled for one of the male team members to come quickly. He took my place and I spent a few moments in the waiting room before walking outside, still hearing her screams, and sitting down to let the tears fall and to spend some time in prayer.

I eventually walked back to the waiting room, hearing only faint cries. I saw Barry washing his hands and he came to tell me they had finished.

My sweet girl was a mess and it broke me to pieces. It was a process to get her to the bus and it was a long ride home.

We talked about Bethany Hamilton after she struggled to use one hand to open a bottle of water. We had watched Soul Surfer in our class. And we talked about Philippians 4:13, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

We were the last to get off the bus and I walked to her to her home and told her I was so proud of her and that I loved her so very much.

She lifted her chin, looked me in the eyes and smiled. I left my sweet girl in a home that nearly killed her.

But Friday, Saturday, and Sunday I will move to her house and clean and bandage her wounds twice each day. And Monday will be a long day back at the hospital getting a check up. Hopefully we will receive good news that her wounds have healed enough to go into surgery. She will need a skin graft.

I never fathomed dealing with things as such, but I am evermore thankful that God is helping this little girl through me.

I simply pray that she knows she is deeply loved and cared about. That when she becomes a teacher one day, she will reach out to her students with love and care.

Today surely was a hard day, but, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”