your prayers through which

I texted Shelley last night without much of a hope and asked if any of their construction team this week also happened to be a doctor.  Instead, she told me Pillatre Church down the road had in a medical team full of them.  She made a call, and this morning mama was sitting out on the road in front of Emmaus with a slew of Saccanvillians and a miserable rashy baby.

Eve-Rose was out with a giant pail of shoes to sell, Job's entire family was out working on their roof (really fun good news post coming tomorrow!) and every other child balanced huge buckets of water on their heads while they came over to grin at lethargic Ben.

On the team's way to a mobile medical clinic a few villages over this morning, they stopped the truck for their pediatrician to jump out to check out Ben.

I mean, how about that.  

Dr. Delilah checked out all the things, and he's just got some kind of virus. Maybe Roseola, maybe something like it. He's still miserable and whiny and doesn't want to eat or play. Which stinks.

But it does mama's heart good to hear that he'll be just fine, that we're doing all we can, and that things should be looking up in the next day or two.

Thank you for all your prayers, through which grace is poured, through which doors are opened, through which protection is hedged, through which hearts are moved, through which change is ushered, through which doctors come to the gate the morning after.