Gentle Hands https://gentlehandsorphanages.com/ghhelps/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/GH-HD-Logo-3-340x156-1.png Gentle Hands2011-03-14 01:21:192011-03-14 01:21:19The heart of MALABON
Today we walked “inside”. The people themselves call it “upstairs” because it is on higher ground. But you have to go through a very narrow alleyway to get there, hidden away behind the basketball court and the cement houses. I call it “inside”. It wasn’t just so I could show my friends what Malabon was really like but I wanted to check on some of my patients that I provide medicine for for tuberculosis. Before I could go on my own agenda, dear Erwin, a 45 year old man, who is almost completely recovered from the crippling state he was in 9 months ago, grabs my hand to take me to someone he knows who can’t walk. I cannot refuse him. He has come back from almost dead and is on a mission to help others as sick as he was. He believes in us, in our medicine and in our God who is healing him. We walk down a familiar alleyway and I ask the neighbors about a little boy that won’t leave my mind. I haven’t seen him in weeks and I love him so much. But the door to his house is boarded up and no one seems to know where they went. We go on, in the direction Erwin is pulling us. As I pass different houses, I call out to patients, and to friends. One young lady cannot get up off the floor. Yes, she is taking the medicine, but they have had no food for a week and she is starving to death. At this rate, the medicine itself will kill her. I tell her to pack her bag, I’ll take her with me later. She bursts into tears. Relief, I suppose. The 25 year old I am taken to see, has cavitary Tuberculosis. The disease is eating holes in her lungs. No wonder she can’t breath. She is so young to be dying. I explain the xray and I explain that we need a miracle. I call the extended family and anyone else who may be sick. This epidemic is so misunderstood. It is believed simply to be inherited- not contagious. We wind our way back to the court where I know the kids are waiting to sing and play. Stopping here and there. If only I had more time. We had more than 300 children today. They sang so loud and so hard. The sun beat down on us but it was so beautiful to watch them dance and hear them sing about God and His love for them. If only they could truly understand. As the day comes to a close, I find my heart heavy. I sift through the faces that are etched in my mind. The simple brokenness of humanity. I think of the man laying on the floor in the dark wooden shack. He had bed sores, and is swollen everywhere. He was too weak to sit, too sore to move, and no one seemed to care. When I left, he had looked at me and begged me to help him. He was tired of suffering, he said. He just wanted to rest. Could I please just help him. The 25 year old woman with holes in her lungs. The old man whose wife is in the burn ward in the government hospital without proper medicine. The jaundiced one month old. The little boy who begged his mama to call me so I could make him well from his cough. The woman who was bleeding from a miscarriage, The woman with a huge pussing wound on her breast. The man with the lump on the side of his neck The little girl who brought her friend to me who had a scrape on her face. The little 3 year old girl who had oozing wounds on her face and head. She hadn’t been bathed in days. The many new chest xrays. The children. Oh, the children. And my precious TB patients. They number more than 50 now. Each one is a precious human being who is desperately crying for help. Myrna, just 30 years old, mother of 6, thin, starving, and struggling to fight the tuberculosis that has eaten away her lungs. She is shy, frightened, backward, and so aloof. But she touched my arm today, and said thank you. She smiled. I never did see the little boy I was searching for. God please keep him safe.
|We first went to Malabon in 2009 and since then it has become part of the very essense and heart of what Gentle Hands is. Every weekend, we cook for hours in the early hours of the morning, making lunches or “baon” for the children that come every week. We pack up the sound equipment and the colouring pages. and medicine..lots of medicine. We pack up the team every Saturday morning at 7:45 and head north…north to Malabon.It is here that the children and community know His touch…through the singing time..the story time..the craft time. and still it goes beyond this.We offer medical outreach every week…Our resident Pediatrician sees many patients and we are able to, mostly offer meds to those willing to take. We have over 30 TB patients on an aggressive TB meds program. This is their hope, their lifeline. It is here in Malabon, among some of the poorest of Metro Manila, that so much joy, so much sorrow, so much peace, and so much turmoil lives…It is here, where we bring hope and love. It is here, where we are Jesus to many.|