In Dallas, I look out my car
window as my son, Scott, walks briskly to the car. He looks like the picture of
health. But looks are deceiving. As he folds himself into the car, I know that
my strapping young son is pumped full drugs as he fends off AIDS. He's HIV
infected.
While I was
in India,
I saw others infected and affected by the disease; mostly women, some who came
by their illness via "clients," others gifted the disgraceful disease by their
husbands - only to be rejected by her family. Like my Scott, they are
responding well to their potent cocktails of modern medicine. Through my tinted
windows, the death sentence just looked like a chronic disease. Until I stepped
off the bus and was on the ground at an AIDS Orphanage.
Visiting an
organization dedicated to the care of children orphaned by and dying with AIDS,
the reality came crashing home in the form of a slight 8-year-old child.
Sitting on the floor to play with V (please allow me to protect his identity),
the death sting of AIDS became personal. As I lifted the 40-pound child onto my
lap to read him some of his favorite stories, my past flashed before my eyes. I
remembered holding and reading to Scott, just like this. Twenty years ago seems
like just last week.
V held my
hand as we walked to the clinic for his daily treatment. We donned our sunglasses
as we strolled under the hot Indian sun and pretended we were movie stars as
the cameras rolled. Hamming it up for the camera, V and his quirky sense of
humor made me forget he was dying - until I looked into his tired eyes, as we
entered the clinic. The treatment is losing its effectiveness. This is not a
chronic disease. We must be reminded that this is a death sentence, especially
for the children who are too weak to fight.
Across southern Africa, the AIDS epidemic has left more than thirteen
million
children with neither
father nor mothers. . . How does a person begin to
understand the reality
of thirteen million orphans?
Maybe like this: Put
the population of Los Angeles and New York City together.
Let that combined
metropolis be made of only children.
In that whole city,
let there be not one mother or father.
Let there be a
ramshackle home where a nine-year-old boy is the head of the household.
Let his six-year-old
sister leave home every morning to find food.
Now let these children
be yours. - Bruce Wilkinson, The Dream Giver
Just as I
saw my past, I stared into the reality of the future - not just for my own
child but for millions of others. When we
step off the bus of denial and ignorance and experience atrocities first hand,
reality sets in. And only when we accept reality can we collectively solve the real problems of this world - both here at
home and abroad.
Out of denial,
Ellen
Posted by Ellen on March 24, 2009 10:53 AM
| Category: On the Ground
The "big picture" is indeed ugly and overwhelming. But the "close-up" is compelling and personal. Squint and see the individuals - one at a time. If 13 million of us open our hearts to just one child, life would be enriched for all of us.
Leslie
