Their laughter carried through the walls of our wooden house as though I were in the same room with them. They didn’t know I could hear them or they probably would have stopped. They’re shy like that.
Just two weeks ago it wasn’t the sound of laughter that filled our home but their baby’s desperate gasps for air as she clung to life, trying to overcome the very illness that had killed two others in her tribe.
They giggled, she and her husband. The same man that just a month ago lay emaciated in the hotel room after we sent the fast boat to pick him up from his village. He was almost dead when we began pumping him full of vitamins, preparing his body for the treatment of Pulmonary Tuberculosis.
Now the baby girl, six months old today, was kicking her little legs and smiling as Mama and Daddy played with her.
Their laughter. Her smiles. Our home a place for them to find rest.
The journey was hard and they still have a ways to go. But it’s beautiful.
Thank you Jesus.