By Juli McGowan Boit | Published: September 12, 2013
Salome Abisali
1978 – 2010
Guest at Living Room: September 9 – November 13, 2010
Angel Musolitsa
Born: March 12, 2010
Member of Living Room’s Orphans and Vulnerable Children Program
I so vividly remember visiting my friend Salome, who had been admitted to a local hospital in hopes that she could be discharged to return to Living Room. As I stood at the bedside of this young, dying woman, I saw a clear and sad picture of what it looks like to be both sick and poor. Although I had lived in Kenya for six years and had visited this hospital on numerous occasions, I felt like I was watching a documentary depicting the horror of AIDS in Africa. Salome, along with every other woman on the ward, was sharing her twin bed with another patient. There were noxious smells, as well as the sounds and sights of extreme suffering all around.
At the time, Salome was 32 years old and was a mother of four young children. Everything within me wished that she were not dying; there is no one who can replace who she was to her kids. Her youngest child, Angel was only five months old, and I wondered who would defend her and fight for her rights. For her, my heart ached terribly. As I stood at Salome’s bedside that afternoon, even as she gasped for air, Salome looked me in the eyes with such intensity and said, “Sister Juli, please make sure my children have food.” The gravity of her simple request humbled me. With tears in my eyes, I promised her that I would. She then proceeded to speak words of thanksgiving for our team’s love and care. She said that she prayed that God would help us as we continued to help others. As she spoke, I found myself, in the midst of this crazy environment, leaning in to listen and to receive the blessings being spoken from the mouth of this dying mother.
In reflection of this journey, I wrote a song with the following lyrics:
There is a time for everything, I know.
Moments of laughter and ones of tears.
There is a time for everything, I know.
A time to be born and one to die.
I’m just wondering why.
“Blessed are those who mourn,” You said.
A heart that hurts so much will be comforted.
“Blessed are those who mourn,” You said.
I feel all alone, but you must be near.
You must be near.
Seasons come and seasons go,
But what I really need to know.
When all else fails and fades away,
Will you still be here?
Brokenness is my offering.
I will declare that you are good,
And trust what my eyes can’t see.
Your mercy is following me.
Honestly, days like the day I met with Salome in that overcrowded hospital, as I was surrounded by the cries that come not only with excruciating pain but also with the fears of what is to come, have made me long for the day when the orphan’s tears, pain and death will simply be no more. Until then, I pray that God will give us the grace and courage to be merciful and to walk these sorrow-filled paths.
Within days of making this promise to Salome, she left this broken world and entered into a place where there was finally no more suffering. No more AIDS. Since her passing, the Living Room team continues to monitor Angel and Salome’s three other children within the community.
Salome and Angel are worth running for
This entry was posted in Blog. Bookmark the
permalink. or leave a trackback:
Trackback URL.
Category: Blog
Tags: No tags yet.
