An Invitation to Make a Difference...

After a recent concert of Jason Gray, we picked up a package from World Vision and agreed to give $35 a month to help a little girl named Silvia. Her BIG, BRIGHT eyes caught my attention. I put the photo of her on my fridge, above the Ice and Water dispenser. That way I think of her everyday. Trying to remember how lucky we are. We hope to connect with her soon, by letters and gifts.

She is from Malawi.

A doctor that I worked with had shared letter this from someone that visited the area of Malawi. After reading this, my mind is flooded with thoughts on how to make a difference for her family even more. We could learn SO MUCH from these people!

Dear Doctor Frank,

I wanted to share with you a recent experience I had
on a trip to Malawi, Africa. I was there on a research project and was hosted by
the people from a non-profit called Raising Malawi. They are an American
organization that is doing amazing work with the country’s poor and their more
than 1 million orphaned children.

Despite its overwhelming poverty,
Malawi is considered “the warm heart of Africa,” and to this I can attest. We
were welcomed everywhere with smiles and open arms. I have never experienced a
population with more love and appreciation for life’s simplest gifts. To many
Malawians, if the sun is shining, they have a little food in their bellies, and
a hand to hold; they consider it a good day. They are unconcerned with their
petty differences and regularly work together to help one another. They share in
each other’s difficulties and rejoice in their blessings.

I was thinking
a lot of you Frank, on one of the tougher days we had there... We visited many
of the sites around the country that are supported by Raising Malawi. One of
them was a sort of urgent care clinic that was built at the center of several
densely populated villages, about 20 kilometers from the nearest hospital.
Because many of the villagers are quite poor, they don't have cars or even
access to any kind of public transportation. So they must travel by bicycle or
simply use their own two feet if they need medical care--not a great situation
when they are sick or injured or eight months pregnant and need to get to the
hospital. This facility tends to the ongoing needs of the villagers who mostly
suffer from malaria and pneumonia and HIV-related illnesses. Patients are
expected to pay a small fee for each visit, but many of them cannot afford the
50 Kwacha (about 27 cents in American money). Still, no one is ever turned away
for lack of funds. When we arrived one steaming hot afternoon, there were about
three-dozen men and women sitting quietly and patiently in the waiting area. In
a country known for its warm smiles, these folks looked uncharacteristically
grim, yet not one of them complained about the hours-long wait. Inside we were
greeted by Lydia, the head nurse, a sharp-looking Malawian woman in her forties
whose crisp white uniform barely masked her unmistakable sense of weariness and
stress. I asked Lydia how many patients she sees each week. She said they see on
average about 150 per day, five days a week, beginning at 5am and ending about
12 hours later. I asked her how many other nurses and doctors worked there. She
looked down and her voice cracked as she spoke, “Just myself and two
technicians.”

Lydia gave us a tour of the rest of the facility and we
met the volunteers who work in the makeshift pharmacy. On good days, they are
able to give prescription medicine to most of their patients in need. But many
days, they simply don't have the supplies necessary and must send the patients
away with nothing. I asked Lois Silo - one of the amazing women who run Raising
Malawi and is on the front lines every day - how they maintain hope when things
often seem so overwhelmingly bleak. Her answer made us both cry. “Sometimes, if
I have the time, I will just sit with these people and hold their hands and try
to make them laugh, try to help them forget about their problems for a little
while. Sometimes that's the only medicine we have to offer them.” In a country
where the life expectancy is about 45 years, these people are grateful for
whatever care they receive.

Before we left, we visited with some of the
two-hundred or so people who had gathered on the lawn in the afternoon sun in
the hopes of getting a free mosquito net from Unicef that day. But when the
truck failed to show up, many of them left on foot. I suddenly felt embarrassed
that we were traveling in an air-conditioned car. But as we passed the villagers
on the dusty road, they all stopped, smiled and waved. Some of them shouted
"zikomo" - Chichewa for "thank you." I asked Lois why they would thank us, and
she said they probably assumed we had come to help. I wished I could have helped
each one of them that day. I remembered all your Shots of Satifaction where you
expressed to your fellow caregivers that sometimes all it takes to make a
difference is to feel the pain of another and not try to fix it or to quickly
write a prescription, but just to sit with them, cry with them and understand
them. I know many of those people didn't come to the facility that day expecting
medicine they knew was likely not there. They just came to have their hand held
and to get a smile or a hug and to know that someone truly cared. I know each of
them left with something.

I've attached a photo of Nurse Lydia and Lois,
as well as some of the people who were waiting for care that afternoon. I hope
we can remember these Healthcare Heroes in our prayers and send them some
much-needed love. I feel blessed to have had this experience and I feel so much
gratitude for all my own blessings. Throughout the journey I kept thinking of
the old maxim, “To whom much is given, much is expected.” Indeed, we all have a
lot of work to do!

With so much love,
Michael Seligman

*Michael's photos can be seen via http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150298188867193.381659.588172192&l=1a978bfb09