I had wanted to blog about Paula, a little girl that I learned to know in Guinea Bissau before now, but for some reason, never really got around to it. Today, I got the devastating news that Paula died last week. I have been crying off and on ever since as everything I hear reminds me of her. Paula was a 2 year old who took a liking to me, which she did to a lot of people, as she was a very friendly child. I had treated her on more than one occasion in the clinic, and at her house. Paula was born with a congenital heart condition called pulmonic artery stenosis, a serious condition that prevents the lungs from getting enough blood, particularly when she exerted herself. She has been scheduled for heart surgery in Portugal for quite some time, but it kept get putting off for one reason or another for most of the past 4 months. When the other kids were running around, and playing, Paula often squatted down on her haunches, because that was a way that she had learned would force more blood through the lungs that were already starved for blood to oxygenate. And yet she had survived a couple of low spots during my time there, and actually was in the hospital for a number of weeks in the past 3 months. Yet she seemed to be doing better in the past couple of months, and I thought she would be able to live a normal life after surgery. It was not to be. She never did go for the surgery, for any number of reasons.
As I said, Paula liked me, and liked for me to hold her. I often held her in church or at her house, and she seemed to relax in my arms. She was like that after the first time I had seen her in the clinic, when she seemed to realize that we were trying to help her out. I often got medicine for her, as she was on a couple of heart pills. Here are a couple of pictures of Paula…the first is a picture of me holding her at a festa that celebrated the end of the futbol season. The other photo is of her and her mother, Kunsa, and myself close to the end of our time there in Guinea Bissau. One of the last times I saw her, she had come all the way down to our other mission house. That was a formidable distance for someone who had a bad heart, about 1/3 of a mile. She spent a long time at our house, and she was being a bit mischievous that day, and wouldn’t listen that well to me. I never realized that in less than a month, she would be gone. Sometimes the things that don’t make sense to us are part of a much bigger picture, and God is working in that picture. So, maybe this will be the catalyst to bring Paula’s family to God. I don’t know if any of them are Christians now, but I am trusting God for that to change soon. But today, I cry, and grieve, and wonder at the bond between us. I grieve for her parents, Augusto and Kunsa, and the rest of the extended family. They will continue to be in my prayers…
Paula and I at the festival.
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Kunsa, Paula’s mother, and Paula and me again
But one thing I know, is that Paula is experiencing much more joy right now than she ever had in her short life down here on earth. And we will meet again some day, and I have a feeling she will “neni” into my arms. Kiriol has a word neni, which does not have an equivalent in English. It means ‘to run and greet’. The father of the prodigal son, when he saw his son a long way off “neni” his son. And I will do the same for her… I suspect…And as many of you have the opportunity, neni someone close to you, and rejoice that you have a longer time with them…..