It is 10pm. In just a few hours I need to be up and ready for work, but I can't seem to sleep. For the past few weeks I have been waking up from a dream. It is hard to describe. I am not even sure you could call it a dream. I am in bed, freezing...I am back in Africa. I hear dogs barking and people yelling in a language I can not understand. Oh how I wish I knew what they were saying. A smell fills my nose and I wake up, but I still smell it. I can't even describe in words how bad the odor is, but I can tell you what it is. It is the smell of a 3 day old child found at the bottom of a toilet pit. I have been home for 9 months and I still smell him. The first thing we did when he came to BG was given him a bath. Even though he was bathed with soap and lathered with Vaseline, I still smell the odor of the pit.
As I lay here tonight, I wonder...
I wonder if his mother kept her promise when I handed him back to her. She said she would not do it again.
I wonder if he is still alive, how big is he. He has to be around 10 months old. He was so small when he came to us. So fragile.
I wonder if he is healthy.
I wonder if he is loved in the way every child should be.
I wonder how big his smile is, or if he smiles.
I wonder about the children at the bottom of the pits that are never found.
I wonder a lot of things, and then I pray.
I pray his mom kept her promise.
I pray he is big.
I pray he his healthy.
I pray he is loved.
I pray for the children at the bottom of the pit who now sleep in the arms of Jesus.
I also pray that by me writing this, I can sleep a little tonight.
