Miriam

When we walked into CURE's morning devotionals before the workday began, we were blasted by song. This was not your typical, American-style coffee, dough nuts, and scripture in the a.m. No, this was a class-A jam session for the Lord.

We were running late, I had not had enough caffeine, I had not slept well in four nights. I was feeling slow and a little worn down. I wouldn't have minded that extra hour of sleep or that second cup of coffee before the day began.

As we approached the beautiful stone gates of CURE, we heard a melodious sound drifting over the traffic noise. The whole hospital seemed to be thumping with song. Walking into the room where "devotions" were being held was like walking out of the office after a long day into a blast of sunshine. Everyone was smiling, swaying, clapping, belting out tunes. A grinning young man pounded on a rather dated keyboard. Two women up front were belting out intermittent lyrics and scripture, a little bit off-tune. No one was sitting and no one was frowning.

Little did I know that one of the women leading the praise and worship had just lost a family member. She had literally just returned from burying him. Miriam, the spiritual leader of CURE is the sassiest soul searcher I have ever met. Over the course of our time with CURE, she told us about running away from home and an abusive father. She told us about life with approximately seventy siblings (her parents practice polygamy). She told us about literally battling demons in her quest to overcome the practice of witchcraft. She told us about her marriage that nearly dissolved due to her conversion to Christianity. She told us about soothing mothers who watch their infants die and soothing doctors who try every day to save children from illnesses we would never see in the United States.

CURE is an incredible ministry. Walking in off the streets of Mbale, you are bombarded by smiles. The doctors there are some of the best and most specialized in the continent. The site is an oasis of excellence and joy in the midst of a desert of suffering. It was like a family. "Uncle Zeph" told us that he took pride in mentoring the young men who work in his laboratory. When I asked to take a picture of him, because he had the best smile I have ever seen, he insisted that it be taken with "his boys." Before the primary surgeon began his endoscopic brain procedure, all the doctors and nurses bowed their heads in prayer.

On the day that we left Mbale, we dropped off Miriam to go to another funeral for a family member. This time it was a sister who had succumbed to AIDS. I never saw Miriam shed a tear. I only heard her give thanks. Miriam, like her namesake of the Bible, embodied CURE in her joy and courage in the midst of great battles.