Fever

                                                                                                                       December 22, 2012

From Jamie:

I’ve been dreading this since we planned our move to Malawi, but I knew the day would come.  Jedidiah is laying next to me kind of sleeping – I can feel him from several inches away – radiating.  I know I should just sleep, but instead I count respirations and pulse. He is hyperdynamic.  I knew this would happen, I was just hoping we would be a little more settled before it did.  We rustle through the rest of the night rolling back and forth – him with a fever, me with worry. 

Fevers are common in children all over the world.  In Loma Linda it was either a cold or a cough, or vice versa, and sometimes I even worried then despite an artillery of vaccinations and medical care.  Now a fever in Africa lengthens the list—Malaria, typhoid, viruses…strange viruses, deadly viruses, on and on. I think back to discussions we have had.  Missionaries losing children, should families move to malarious areas?  What prophylaxis to take, if any?  When to pray, when to act…

We have taken all the precautions against Malaria that I can think of besides staying home.  We stay inside after dark, we sleep under bed nets, we use mosquito repellant for the children, and we are all taking appropriate prophylaxis (medication to prevent malaria).  Almost like our life revolves around preventing malaria. Somehow that doesn’t help right now.  Last week I heard a presentation about cerebral malaria – the most serious form.  Thirty percent die, brain swelling, happens spontaneously after a day or two of fever, and children with no acquired immunity to malaria are at higher risk…this is really not helping me sleep.

Trust God.  I’ll be honest, I am afraid of malaria for my children.  No other issue threatened the possibility of us coming to Africa more.  We have friends who have lost their children to malaria, and while I want my faith to be strong, it’s not.  Not as strong as it was in those days – the good old days?—when I had a quiet hour with God, when I told Him I was not afraid to go, to suffer, to die...  Now that we are here a decade later, I am far less exemplary.  I am doing good to make it to work with deodorant (which really doesn’t matter here) and a prayer for wisdom while I run out the door. 

“He will gather the lambs in His arms and carry them close to His heart” Isaiah 40:11.  I long for God to gather up my little lambs and hold them close to His heart.  There is no greater desire in mine.  But sitting here in the dead of African night it’s clear to me that I am the little lamb. I am the little one in need of a shepherd to carry me.