"Sun" and Mary...

Yesterday I met a woman whose name means sun. She wore a blue dress the same material that scrubs in the state are made of. Her right eye had been blinded somehow. It was obvious by the discoloration.

When I walked into the room she was standing near a counter scooping out powdered milk. She was adding water and putting it inside bottles. As I watched her she brought several small children to a padded table and began to change diapers.

I walked up on her as she changed one. The diaper was a piece of cloth. After wrapping the cloth she took a piece of plastic and wrapped it around the kids legs and waist so as to tie it around the cloth. It held the diaper on. On top of the diaper was a wooly pair of pants to keep the child warm. After watching "Sun" and my friends hold and play and care for the babies one was offered to me.

I took hold of Mary. "Sun" told me her name and said she was about a month old. She was beautiful and tiny. The small pink hat on her head was way too big and continuously rotated down over her eyes. We watched one another for some time. Finally her eyes began to appear heavy. She drifted off to sleep. I held her for a few more minutes before placing her back in her crib.

The orphanage we were at is surrounded by kids cursed by AIDS. Some of the children, from infants to 17, have the disease or its precursor themselves. Others had lost parents because of AIDS. I've heard that as many as 12 to 13 million people here are HIV positive. The children were beautiful.

We left the infants and headed for a room with many children who were probably 4 to 6. They loved us. They would surround us and tug at our hands and/or clothes. A few were fascinated with my bit of facial growth. The would rub their soft tiny hands on my cheeks and chin and lips. They seemed to enjoy the feel of our warm skin. More than one placed my hands on their own neck. They were desperate for touch; desperate for love.

They were so beautiful, I'd love to adopt a few and bring them home with me.

I met an Irish woman named Bernie while I was there. Bernie talked about how she worked hard to remove herself from the fact that they had the disease. She didn't want to become too associated with them or the real affects of their illness. It made me think about the movie Patch Adams. Robin Williams' character seemed to think that associating with the disease was therapeutic to the patient.

I just wanted to find the best way to love them. How do you love children you know are dying? Is it possible to love them the same as other children? We are promised that they are just as loved by their creator. It is hard for me to belive that some people would write off these children as sin because they are cursed with such a terrible illness. I'd like to take them to this place. I'd like them to meet Mary and the others. I'd like them too look at their beautiful smiles, and bright eyes, and little green teeth. I'd like them to smile and laugh and cry with beautiful children. Then I would like to see them leave with the realization that no matter the illness, the future of this child, or the past that has cursed them they are loved.