In November of 2019, we ministered to the congregation outside Kaliro village every week. I was taken to the homes of the several widows and abandoned families in the congregation to speak with them and take their pictures. This village sits 3.5 miles off the nearest paved road; the residents’ simple brick huts dot the countryside, often in clusters of 3 or 4 houses. While meeting one of these widows to take photos and speak with her personally, in front of the neighboring house I noticed a man and his children watching me. Musumba spoke with him and explained who I was. Muzungus (white people) are NOT a regular occurrence this far from the city, and this man was not part of the congregation, so he knew nothing about my presence in the village till we showed up at his neighbor’s house that day.
I felt a tugging to talk with this man, so Musumba translated for us. His name is Richard. I asked if it would be okay for me to take photos of him and his home and he allowed me to do so. He told us that his wife had abandoned him and their children due to the poverty and hopelessness of the situation. As Richard was talking and showing us around his home, the despair and hopelessness was visible in his own eyes. He was working as a laborer when he could, making around 65 cents a day– it takes at least one dollar to feed his family a single meal. And yet, this man was unusual; he was a single dad in a country where it is usually the father who abandons his family.
As we turned to leave, Fazira called attention to the next to youngest child, who appeared to be 4 or 5 years old. This boy’s leg was horribly raw, with the skin falling off in chunks. Richard told us that four days prior, boiling liquid had been spilled on his leg, resulting in the gruesome burns. Raw flesh was exposed on his leg and foot, and exposed to the dirt that was everywhere. I asked Musumba to get my first aid kit from the car, as I prayed about what I might have for burns. Two things came to mind. I liberally sprinkled lavender oil on the raw skin, and then applied a thin layer antibiotic ointment, using a cotton pad to gently spread the medicine. I gave the ointment tube and more cotton applicator pads to Richard and instructed him to keep the wound clean and to continue applying the ointment each day. Before leaving, I prayed over the child, Yesel, and asked for Yahweh’s healing, blessing and protection over him. Richard thanked me, and then we continued on to meet other widows.
I didn’t return to Kaliro till ten days later. It was my last day with the people before I was to return to the USA. Thanks to the generosity of friends, we were able to purchase Lugandan Bibles for each family of the congregation, plus some extra copies. As I began to teach a final Bible lesson, there, on the front row, I saw Richard and his son. His eyes held a new light and he was smiling joyfully. At the end of the lesson, the elders called each member forward to receive their Bibles. Afterward, they asked who else needed a Bible. Richard was the first to leap to his feet, crying out, “I must have a Bible!” His delight was clearly evident. Richard was a new man.
Examining Yesel’s wound after the meeting, I found that his leg was healing very well; there were only two spots that were still raw. I had one remaining tube of antibiotic ointment, so I gave it to Richard with clear instructions (translated by Musumba) to only place it on the areas still raw (to make it last as long as possible). I then prayed with Richard for peace, for comfort, for salvation, for provision, for his absent wife and for the redemption of their marriage. The following week, I returned to the US.
Musumba reported to me that from then on, every Friday when the congregation met, Richard was in attendance, hanging on to every word spoken. After a few weeks, Richard one day pulled Musumba aside to speak privately, “On the day Mom Eleanor came to my house, I had already put away in my heart that I was going to abandon my children. When my son’s leg was burned, I feared that the wound would become infected and that he might lose his leg or become a cripple and the thought was too much to bear on top of the struggles we already had. Then, Mom Eleanor showed up with medicine and she prayed for my son and cared for us. I thought to myself, ‘Who is this God, that He would care enough about me to send someone all the way across the world to see me? To care about me. To care for my son. I realized I could no longer leave my family because I knew that God saw me and He cared about my life. Please, tell Mom Eleanor that God didn’t just send her here to speak to all these other people; He sent her here to speak directly to me.”
You never know to whom the Lord wants you to be His voice, His hands, His eyes. For the Lord to be able to say to someone, “I see you. I see your hurt. I see your needs. And I care.” It can have more of an impact than you or I could ever imagine.
Richard is still a member of the congregation. Yesel’s leg has healed and he runs and plays as a boy should. When I shared his story back in the USA, a Godly woman in the states was led to sponsor his family, to help Richard know that there are still good women.
It remains to be seen what the Father has in store for this faithful father. But his life has been changed by the love of a God who sent an ordinary American woman to his house to say, “I see you, and I care.”