I want to do big things and be important. I want to do big projects that help lots of people and make a difference. I can’t get slowed down by individual needs and specific wants that take me away from the greater good. I want to have the biggest impact in my short life and help the most people I can. I need to teach, to preach, to build, to change things in good ways. God wants me to. Maybe, maybe not…
Recently I was doing a rabies clinic just after a girl had been attacked by dogs in our village and population control was in the limelight. I was spaying and neutering on the tailgate to my hearts content and vaccinating between surgeries. The numbers were going by and things were getting done when a woman pulled me aside.
In her broken English and my broken Silozi I learned she had a dog that could not come to the clinic. It could not move from her house and can I come there? A sense of aggravation crept into my heart at the thought of leaving this busy place to attend to one behavior problem dog. If you can’t catch it at home, I can’t catch it at your home…but if you wait until we are finished maybe I will have time to go there with you.
The woman waited several more hours, maybe I hoped she would give up. It was hot and we were wearing out. Eventually the dogs stopped coming and the day was wearing out too. The woman waited patiently sitting at a distance from the surgery area. Okay, let’s go. Isaac and I pack up and invite the woman into the truck to show us the way to her home.
A few kilometers later down a bush road we came to her mud home in the middle of a maize field. One dog came out and we vaccinate him. That was easy, he could have come to the clinic. But she says there is another dog inside the house, he has been shot and can I cut the leg? What?
I go into the dark house and there a dog is cowering iwith a shattered front leg in the corner. He tries to act mean to keep me away but I can see the bone sticking out in all directions and the useless limb pressing into the dirt floor. He will just die? She asks. Probably I say out loud.
My heart is moved and awakened, This dog can’t come to the clinic. He will die here from infection and in pain. This woman loves her dog. God created her and the dog and me. He loves the woman and the dog he created and me. I remember in that moment why I wanted to be a vet and how I have pushed that to such a small thing. My heart goes to the woman and the dog. This small thing is their whole thing today and for the last several days.
I have no more anesthetic, and an amputation in the field? No way to fix that leg. But if not me then who else will do this? I have to try. I have antibiotics so I leave that with her and tell her I will come back when I have more drugs for anesthesia.
A few days later and a trip to Livingstone we are back with the needed drugs. It takes us awhile to find her house with her as a guide. She seems a bit surprised we are back and takes us to the dog. He looks much better, the antibiotics have kept infection away and kept him alive. He gently lets us catch him and take him to surgery. The surgery on the tailgate makes me think of a Civil War field hospital. Obby and Isaac hang in there until the end and everything goes well. He will do fine.
“Ni tumezi ahuluhulu!” says the woman, handing us 6 ears of maize from her field. She is all smiles. We are all smiles. What a great day! What a joy to serve! Did we waste resources and time? I don’t think so. We loved someone and something God created.
God wants us to take time for people and His creation, not get lost in programs and numbers. We will try to separate out what He has made into priorities, categories, checklists and goals. Listening to His still small voice can be hard over the clanging cymbals of ourselves and the world around us. Without love our work is just work.
Thank you Lord for your word and your Spirit that leads us in your work. Help us to be quiet and listen to You. Ni tumezi ahuluhulu! Amen.
1 Cor 13:1-3
Ni tumezi ahuluhulu!
Thank you very very much!
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| Obby and the dog after surgery |
