He wanted to be a witch doctor. In his remote village of Haiti, the witch doctors were the ones with the influence and power. They were the ones that seemed to have the answers about the spiritual realm. As a young boy, he would dress up and play like he was the witch doctor for all of his friends.
Then at age 10 he started having seizures. Before his 12th birthday, while visiting an aunt, he had a seizure and fell into the cooking fire. Most of his body was covered in 3rd degree burns. By the time he was taken to the distant hospital 3 days later, he was severely infected and not expected to live. In a last ditch effort to save him, the doctor amputated both arms. He survived.
This is Kesmy's story. We met him in Haiti but really just got to know him well over the last couple of weeks as he stayed with us in our home. He is in his second year of getting his masters degree in theology from Wheaton in Chicago. He is my hero.
I am sorry for complaining about my first world problems. I am sorry for worrying about things that don't matter. I am sorry for allowing insignificant issues to get to me. I am sorry for being distracted from my purpose. I am sorry.
God is so good to take the time to bring into our lives what we need to reawaken us. We often get lulled to sleep by the steady beat of the world around us. The tick of the time clock. The chime of the church bell. The hum of humanity around us. Kesmy was my wake up call this week.
Thank you Kesmy. Thank you God.