Friday, November 16, 2012

Baby Kenzie

Waking up early and watching the sunrise from my desk at the window I knew this was going to be a special day. Walking down the stairs at 7 am I waited for Mrs. Waid to come, so that we could go for a morning walk. After about 15 minutes and no Mrs. Waid I heard Shati calling to me from the front walkway, "Kenzie, asho!"(bangla for "come"). I followed Shati to the kitchen where I watched the whole kitchen crew prepare breakfast and lunch.

Hearing the breakfast bell ring, I walked around the corner of the kitchen with a bowl in hand and plopped myself down in the middle of class 4 girls ready to eat some dahl. Scooping the rice and dahl onto my fingers and trying ever so hard to gracefully shovel it into my mouth which caused the girls to giggle as they found entertainment in my attempt to eat Bangali style.

About a hour later I sat down to my 2nd breakfast of the day with the Waid's and the other 9 missionaries who are here from the U.S. as a medical team, Mrs. Waid said to me, "Kenzie, today you are not going to teach, because we are going to get a baby girl." Normally, I am not a person who squeals. At all. But, today I squealed with delight with the thought of getting a new baby to bring home.

Dr. Becky checking her out
Climbing into the van with Dr. Becky, the pastor, and Mrs. Waid we drove to a small village about a hour North. Upon arrival we immediately noticed a girl about my age holding a small baby whose skin was in bad condition. The girl holding the baby we learned was the oldest sister who was taking care of her after the mother had died about a month ago. She had one younger sister and the father was going to school. Taking the baby, Mrs. Waid asked for some warm water and soap to bathe the child. we knew something wasn't right about this baby, because she hadn't cried at all until we started washing her. Dr. Becky held her in the sunlight after Mrs. Waid had clothed her and examined her skin and feet and brushed the black dot from her forehead (the Hindu symbol for good luck). The baby's feet were swollen! "Malnutrition is probably what caused the swelling," presumed Dr. Becky. She handed the little baby off to me. As I cradled and sang to her I noticed how beautiful her big brown eyes were. My heart started melting. Bringing my hand away from the baby's head I found pieces of dark flaky skin on my hands. The poor baby's whole body was pealing so badly from some sort of fungus or sickness.
Baby Kenzie's oldest sister

As we were leaving the older sister came over to me. I handed the baby to her and as she cradled the little girl in her arms for the last time, tears started cascading down her cheeks. Mrs. Waid then told me I needed to take the baby from her. My heart ached as I reached out to take the baby. I struggled to make eye contact with the sister as I let her kiss the baby goodbye and bent down so the younger sister could do the same.

Getting into the van, the baby began to cry as I cradled her close and looked out the window at the family and villagers as we drove away from the village. As we drove, the baby fell asleep to the rhythm of the van's movements and Mrs. Waid said, "We're going to call this baby Kenzie." Looking down at baby Kenzie in my arms as we drove towards home I was filled with a mix of emotions, but mostly happiness as I said aloud, "Just think! This baby gets to know who Jesus is." To give a child that simple and beautiful gift along with care, food, and shelter had never penetrated my thinking before in such a powerful way. Baby Kenzie gets to know who Jesus is. And I thank Him for making Bangla Hope a place where that is possible.

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