Loving Luciano

The happy stories are easy to tell.  It is easy to capture pictures of smiles, hugs, and art projects.  My time at the hospital is filled with many happy moments as I try to brighten children’s days and in return they brighten mine.  However, it is the difficult stories that are hard to share and accurately depict.  These are the stories that penetrate my heart deeply.  These are the stories that keep me up and night because my heart is so greatly moved.  The people behind these stories are the reason that I came to Mozambique.  While I desire to love all whom I encounter with Jesus’s love, there are a few people that I know am destined to love.  Jesus’s love in me overcomes my flesh, and I can’t resist loving them.  For these people, I shed tears and dare to feel their suffering.  Yes, these stories are difficult and hard to share because they touch such a deep part of my heart that I feel no one else will understand.  Yet, it is through these pain-stricken and tear-streaked stories that the most beautiful hope, beauty, and redemption can arise.  Here is the beginning of one such story…

Luciano’s story.

I was getting ready to leave the hospital for the day when I spotted a scared mother sitting alone in one of the pediatric oncology’s four rooms.  The fear in her eyes was undeniable.  I could tell that she was far from home and had endured a long journey.  She had nothing with her except the tattered clothes that she wore and a small child secured tightly on her back with a kapulana.  I went to meet her and kissed her cheeks as is the custom here.  Then I got my first glimpse of the child on her back.  The child’s small face was mostly covered by the kapulana, but I could see that it was covered with blood, mucus, and drool.  Clearly, the child was not well.  The mom remained relatively unresponsive to my interaction with her, and I did not linger long.  The next day, I got a closer look at the child.  .  The child’s entire left eyeball was oozing and bulging out of his face and nose in an infected, pussy mass.  Truth be told, it was hideous.  That night, in my dark bedroom, my heart broke for this child.  I so desperately wanted to fix this glaring imperfection, but I felt helpless.  I sobbed into my pillow with desperation asking God to love this little one.  The next day, God answered that prayer.  However, what I didn’t expect is that He would use me to do it. 

Thursday morning, I woke up feeling unexpectedly peaceful and hopeful.  I attended Bible Study with my missionary friends, and finally it was time for me to go visit my loves at the hospital.  From the moment, I entered pediatric oncology, one of the little girls squealed with delight, “Tia Abi!”  Despite the difficulties and hardships, I knew for certain that this is where my heart is most alive and at home.  I began to paint and draw with my little loves, when the mother and child from the day before rounded the corner.  I invited the child to come color with us, and he timidly took my hand.  I gave him a crayon and he giggled with delight as color streaked across his paper.  I am guessing that it was his first time coloring.  However, all too soon, his merriment turned to uneasiness as the other children at the table began to pinch and cover their noses in disgust.  The odor coming from his rotting eye was almost unbearable.  He began to whimper, and I escorted him back to his room and mother.  Then I brought him a coloring book and crayons so that he could continue to color in his room.  I motioned for him to come and sit on my lap, and it became obvious that he would rather be held than color.  At this point, I discovered that neither he nor his mom spoke Portuguese (the national language); they only spoke Shanganah (their native dialect).  I was also told that his name was Luciano which I mistook for Luciana (so, at this point, I thought he was a little girl…oops!)  Nevertheless, I held Luciano in my arms.  Beyond the stench, the drool and snot poring onto my shirt, and the hideous infected eye touching me with its crusty puss, I held a beautiful, BEAUTIFUL child.  I felt his lungs straining for breath against my chest, sang him songs of Jesus’s love, kissed his tiny head, looked into his perfect brown right eye, saw him nod off to sleep, felt his little hand stroking my arm, and I fell unexplainably in love.  Then I saw his mom wiping tears from her eyes as she saw someone love her “outcast” son.  I was so moved by the fact that Jesus holds us so very close despite our glaring imperfections.  When we stink and are completely desolate, He holds us because He loves us and sees the beauty of God’s creation in us.  Then He allows us to do the same for others, and there is nothing better in this life! 

The next day, I had the privilege of bringing Luciano a clean outfit (Confession: I brought him girls' clothes as I still thought that he was a girl; I am glad that his mother was gracious!) and some cereal for him to eat over the weekend.  Furthermore, I got to see smiles on his mother’s face.  Luciano’s story is not over…and no matter what his future looks like, I am grateful to have had the chance to love him.  I wish that I had a picture of him to share, but due to severity of his condition I felt it was better to refrain from taking pictures until more trust is built. 

Luciano.  One life that Love in me loves.  This love is not by my power or my strength but by the Spirit of the Lord of Love.