Just a few minutes ago, I went back to our bedroom to check on our baby girl. She had just woken up from a nap and smiled at me with her chubby face. She cooed and reached for her foot (she just discovered a feet a week or so ago), lifting her fat little leg into the air. She has not known hunger, or at least not for more than the few moments it takes for me to pick her up and feed her. At only 3 and a half months, she is already almost bursting the seams of her 3-6 month clothes. As I write this, she is sitting beside me in her stroller, jabbering away to her stuffed hippo. She’s the picture of health.
Now imagine a different scene. Instead of checking on Evie in her pack and play, imagine I go check on her in her hospital bed. She doesn’t coo. She doesn’t smile. Her cheeks are sunken in, and every bone is evident through her skin. She’s listless, past the point of even crying. She’s dying of hunger. And there’s nothing I can do.
I don’t know about you, but it makes me cry to even imagine this. Yet this is happening at this very moment for more mothers than I want to imagine in Somalia. It is easy to distance myself from their suffering, but I look at THESE PICTURES and cannot help but imagine that this is me. This is Evie. These mothers have done everything they can. They have probably walked miles and miles to get their babies to the hospital, only to watch them die. And there’s nothing else they can do.
Please go to THIS LINK. Choose a group to give through. Give as you are able and more. Because if one of these children were yours, you would do whatever it took to save them.
Evie’s getting a bit fussy, so I’m going to go feed her. I praise God that I can. May God bless you and your neighbor through you today.
