When The Lights Go On

One of the advantages of frequent power outages, is that our whole family gets really excited when the lights go on. When the electricity disappears, it is often in the evening, right after dinner time, and so we get out our head lamps, our solar lights, and some candles. We get ready for the next day, packing lunches, doing homework, taking baths, reading stories, all in rooms that are pretty dimly lit. And so, when the lights go back on, and we never know when that will be, we all get pretty excited. In fact, our family has a little “electricity” dance that we break out, after especially long power outages. Sometimes, they only last a few hours, once we went almost 48 hours. But, regardless of how long they last, we are all very happy when the lights go on.

Life is sort of like that here in Zambia. We celebrate the little things together, and it makes life a lot more fun. For example, the first time that Joel drove to the store and back, we all sat in the car applauding wildly. When we figured out how to cook rice on our very temperamental stove, it was the best rice we had ever eaten! And when, after two full days of visiting governmental offices, filling out forms, and tracking down signatures, we finally got our car officially registered, my boss suggested framing and hanging the registration certificate. Really, it felt like a momentous accomplishment, and we were overjoyed to officially own our car.

There is good reason to find joy in the minor, and major, triumphs here. It is true that there is extreme suffering; 43% of Zambians live in extreme poverty and 1 out of every 7 adults is HIV positive. But, on World AIDS Day, I joined thousands of people, marching through the streets of Lusaka, declaring that they would end this epidemic. And then, later that night, I learned that rates of new infections for HIV have gone down by 58%, and that the percentage of HIV infected infants born to positive women dropped from 39% in 2005 to 5% in 2011. Individuals receiving treatment for HIV rose from 3,000 in 2004 to 400,000 in 2011. Far fewer new infections, far fewer children born with HIV, and many, many more people accessing treatment. This is a real reason to celebrate!  

Sometimes, it is dark, and we cannot see, and the rooms are dimly lit. When we think of the realities of HIV/AIDS in Africa, it can feel that way. But then the lights go on, and we see that new infections are decreasing, effective treatment is increasing, children are being born without the disease, and people are living longer, healthier, happier lives. The lights go on, and we do have reason to celebrate. Yes, there is still work to do, and we still march, we still journey, together. But we march, knowing that the lights will go on, knowing that we must celebrate the progress, even as we fight to continue the momentum in addressing poverty and AIDS.

Yesterday, I did home visits again with the wonderful women of Mandevu CCAP congregation. We went into two different compounds of Lusaka, areas that struggle with extreme poverty. I was honored to be welcomed into the homes of women who were suffering from diabetes, tuberculosis, HIV, blindness, and cardiac disease. While there, I saw the ways in which people cared for one another, and the love that surrounded all those who suffered. At the same time, the woman who was HIV positive, for example, was healthy, receiving medicine, and introduced us to her three beautiful grandsons. Mrs. P also served her community, helping others who are HIV positive to get the treatment that they need, and supporting them in their fight against HIV. The lights will go on. Even with these women, diagnosed with severe illness, the lights go on in their lives, as they are surrounded by love, support, and care, as they even offer support and care to others.

One of my visits was to a new little baby, a one-week old boy named Vincent. As I entered Vincent’s small home, there were flies all around, and the little room was dark and cramped. I sat down, and began to talk with his mother. Her smile lit up the room as she spoke of her new baby, and pretty soon, that beautiful little guy was in my arms. She asked me to bless him, to pray for him, and so I did, asking our God of grace and hope to surround that little child. I do not know what his life will be like, growing up in a country where the under-5 mortality is 119:1000, where malnutrition rates are 45%. But, I do believe that the lights will go on, and as I prayed for that little boy, I knew that God had a wonderful plan for baby Vincent, just as God has great plans for us all. And God will work in us, and through us, to bring health and hope to the children and Zambia.

The lights go on and there is reason to celebrate. There is reason to rejoice in the small things: in a smile from a stranger, walking through a street market in a dusty, dirty road. There is reason to celebrate the big things: a new clinic offering care to those who are sick, saving lives and offering hope. But most of all, there is reason to rejoice in God, who shines light in and through us. To rejoice that God can offer others love, care, compassion, and hope, through our very lives, as we let our light shine. Sometimes, the power goes out, and the rooms are dim, and we cannot see all that well. But the light is still there, and the light is coming, and the power of God will shine again.

So, thank you for being on this journey with us, for being a light for us, through your prayers and your friendship, and thank you for celebrating with us - the little things, the big things, the many blessings we see, in the light and grace of God.