Living in a country that has the second highest HIV/AIDS prevalence rate in the world offers a lot of reality checks along the way. And not only that... but also serving in an area with so much poverty, sickness, and obstacles that nearly every family here faces. Maybe I will have more than one blog entry with a similar title as I am hit with these realities from time to time...

As I'm sitting here doing data entry for the new FHS database, I am constantly heartbroken by much of the information that has been gathered about the 450 children in the program. The average monthly income is less than most Americans make in one day, some homes generating income for one month less than some of us might make in one hour! We're talking as low as $6.50 per month. Over half of the children live in homes with no sanitation whatsoever. Around 85% of them live in shack-like houses made from whatever materials of any kind can be found--most of which have access to a communal tap only. Most are smaller than many master bathrooms in the States, and yet half of them have 6-10 people living in them! Nearly 40% of the children at FHS have lost at least one parent. These statistics are staggering, and they are more than just statistics... they are beautiful children whom I know and stare in the face on a regular basis.

The reality check that prompted this entry wasn't a collection of statistics... it was the name of one 9-year old boy with "HIV+" typed in the next column. This caught my attention for two reasons... (1) because I never knew until that moment that this boy whom I see every time I go to FHS is HIV+ and (2) because of a vivid series of thoughts I had this very morning. Those thoughts went something like this...

As I was coming into the driveway of FHS he was one of the first children I saw. I thought to myself, "He is one bright kid... one of the brightest! Given the opportunity he could really achieve greatness." As I looked at him, I wondered to myself what he might want to be when he grows up, and I made a mental note to ask him. Maybe in addition to my time right now in Namibia, I could have an impact in helping him achieve whatever goals he might have. And I truly believe that if he sets goals, he will achieve them.

The reality check came in the form of 3 letters followed by a + sign... H-I-V+. How will this affect his future? Will this disease even give him a full chance for his dreams to be realized?

I don't believe it is an accident that I had those thoughts today specifically about him, and then saw that diagnosis beside his name. Reality checks are a necessary part of ministry here. They remind me that my work at the center is not just skipping rope, helping with homework, and playing silly games. Some of these children are literally fighting for their lives, whether they realize it now or not. Because of their health or their circumstances or both and so much more, they have a journey ahead of them more difficult than what most of us could even imagine. Not to be a pessimist, but in my mind, the odds are stacked against them. But I have hope. And I have seen real joy on the faces of some who have overcome those odds. They may not be rich in the world's eyes, they may not have had the opportunity to even see beyond the borders of Namibia, but they have found peace and joy and they are living to tell the rest of their community (and the world--because you're reading this!) about the hope that is found in Christ Jesus. It is my prayer that my presence here will help spread that hope throughout this community even more. Because the ultimate reality is... the love and sacrifice of Jesus Christ IS our hope, our peace, and our strength.