I'm currently on my way back to Kathmandu as I write this. It's been a long, hard, but good week and I'm ready to get back to 514, the guest house that is now like home. I've said it before, and it's still true-- so much has happened over the past month that I don’t have a lot of mental energy left to put together cohesive thoughts and feelings. But though I can’t summarize what’s been going on and how I’m feeling, I can share small stories of what God has been up to here in Nepal. And that’s what I want to do . . .
My mind goes back to a moment last week. I sat on a stool in the middle of our camp, clutching a bag of cola gummies. I’d saved these for three days, knowing that I would thank myself for having them in Dhading. We’d just spent two days doing hard physical labor and eating only daal bhat, spoonfuls of peanut butter, and Clif bars. The thought of eating something different, something that tasted a little bit like familiar Kathmandu, was more comforting than I expected. But that last night in the village, as much as eating the candy had been on my mind, I didn't want it anymore. I wanted to give every one of the gummies away, and I wanted to give them all to Sabin.
The night I met Sabin, he seemed like just another street boy that had followed us through the village. But I quickly began to realize that this boy is something special. For one thing, my first memory of him is looking up to see him scaling a mango tree, barefoot, to give us a pre-dinner snack. There were mangoes raining down everywhere as he shook the limbs high above. We collected a bucket full of mangoes that lasted us the rest of our trip.
That first night over dinner, the conversation flowed as freely as the Nepali tea that accompanies every meal. I listened to Sabin joining parts of conversation, yet I had no clue what he was saying. Someone leaned over and smiled as they said, "Listen, he has the cutest speech impediment." And he did have a speech impediment because Sabin has a cleft palate. His words came out all jumbled and precious, and communication meant gesturing and nodding and pointing, along with lots of smiling. The only time I really understood him was when he sang 10,000 Reasons or Dhanyabad Jesu ("thank you Jesus") to us.
The next morning, Sabin was back for breakfast on his way to school. And that's when I got bits of his story. He's twelve years old, with little known about his father and no mention of his mother. Sabin walks a long way every day to this camp, a place where he gets food and so much love. Then he walks to school, barefoot. The ministry we were working with has befriended him during their time in his village. And they had just gotten permission from his father to take Sabin into Kathmandu. He'll have corrective surgery for his cleft palate and then be placed in a children's home + Christian school.
My heart was slowly knit to Sabin's over the course of my time in Dhading. The last day there, a teammate and I stayed back to "guard" the camp. It was a restful morning and a busy afternoon, and it became more enjoyable the second Sabin got back from school. He walked up to the group of kids that was gathered around me reading Ephesians. With a few jumbled words, they smiled at me and asked for a Bible. I have no clue what Sabin said, but I was glad he was there. And my gratitude for him grew deeper when a woman wandered into our area with a bad cough. She pointed and asked for medicine, which we didn't have. Chloe and I were lost for what to do & how to make her understand, when Sabin walked up and closed his eyes, laid a hand on her, and then gestured that we should pray for her. So we did. We prayed that Jesus would heal her cough and her heart.
And then the rest of the afternoon, Chloe took a nap and Sabin and I hung out. He sang 10,000 Reasons, so I pulled out my phone and played the song for him. His eyes lit up when he recognized the song, and he sat contentedly for longer than I expected-- eyes closed, gently rocking, holding my iPhone, humming along with Rend Collective. Talk about beauty that broke my heart. I don't know if Sabin knows Jesus, but I know that he's seen Christ's love. As we played worship music together, I prayed for Sabin's heart. There's something so cool about praying for the unreached when a little boy is sitting in your lap.
Sabin wandered away after dinner, but I waited for him to come back. I was excited to give him cola gummies and watch his reaction. But he never came back. . . But you know, I think I'll see him again. I think he's so close to meeting Jesus. Sabin gave me hope for Nepal, hope for the spread of the kingdom throughout the unreached, hope for Gods plan for him & for me. The gospel is at work here, and Sabin is just one example. I can't wait to find Sabin in 10 years and see all the great things I'm sure he'll be doing.
