Cultural eyes

This morning we went to church. One of the struggles I have living here is loss of my family, my church. We have not found that place, partly political pushing, sometimes serving needs and just the fact we have not found that place that resonates home. Anyway, Timmy asked to go to church today, normally we just meet once a month so we want to another church where we have always been welcomed and the children have friends at.
Early on a YWAM team were introduced who are visiting for two weeks, they are eye doctors. They are running eye clinics. I immediately got the sense that was why we were here this day and this time.
My heart began to race and I just wanted to get the time to talk to them, I knew this was a God designed moment. Why? Shpetimi.

Shpetimi is a little boy who has made a huge impact on our family. We first met him at my english classes squashed into my friend’s front room. He sneaked in with his brother when he was too young. But he became friends with Eden and we were thrilled and grateful when Eden started school and who was in his class? Shpetimi.

I had been invited to visit his house and on doing so had made a friend in his mum, Dhurate (meaning gift). His older brother has always been to our things and helps us with his over enthusiastic friendliness. In fact it is because of this family we moved to where we live, because of their friendship and the sense that God was in it.

Shpetimi means “Saviour” or “saved” and he was named because he was born prematurely and it is a real miracle he survived. A miracle not without cost. Shpetimi only has one eye, his other is closed and blind, his mum says due to his difficult birth. She told me they could have operated and saved the sight but they could not afford it. Imagine that.

Eden decided fairly early into his friendship that he was going to pray for Shpetimi to get his sight back in that eye, whenever a bible story comes up about blindness Eden is quick to use it to prove God can heal Shpetimis eye. It also had become my prayer, the miracle that would show God’s power, grace, mercy and love. The little boy Saviour to this community through his miracle, it is my dream.

So, back to this morning, the eye doctors here. I raced over at the end and asked who I could talk to to tell the story and ask if they would see Shpetimi. The response made me want to cry. They are on a tight schedule and there are lots of people, he could come at the end of the day. I explained he is at school in the afternoons and it would be hard to convince his parents to take him out of school for an appointment that I don’t want to build up to give false hope because of my dreams. Well, that is the only time, if they want us to look at him, that is the time they must come. My excitement and hope crushed by what felt like a cold response. But who is he to them? Just another patient no more important than someone else, but to me he is precious, more important because I know his smile, his laughter, I’ve watched him struggle twisting his head to see why others can and I fear for his future, for a day when he may not be able to see at all. To them just one to me the one.
But that’s us too, isn’t it? People may look and think we don’t matter but we do, with this passion that makes me angry, frustrated, desperate for the best, God looks at us.

I will go and talk to his mum, pray for words that give confidence but not false hope and pray that he can be seen but more than that they can do something. I believe in miraculous healing but you know what, I’m happy to take the skill of a doctor who has travelled to be here at this time.

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