Sometimes compassion is not loud.
Sometimes it is found in what is gathered quietly.
A few weeks ago, a mother and her three young children arrived at our clinic after walking for hours beneath the Haiti sun.
She had heard a rumor that medications were available at no cost if she could just make it to the clinic.
By the time she reached us, her youngest child was feverish and exhausted. The older children sat quietly beside her in that still, careful way hungry children sometimes do when they are trying to conserve energy instead of spend it.
As we began gathering the medications they needed, the reality settled heavily.
We did not have enough.
Not enough medication on the shelves.
Not enough supplies.
Not enough answers for all the burdens people carry through our gates.
So Momma Gigi and I started searching.
And when I say searching, I mean everywhere.
Drawers. Cabinets. Backpacks. First-aid kits. Leftover prescriptions from our own homes. Anything that might help this mother leave with what her children needed.
We are not the only ones who do this either. Our staff make the same sacrifice and care to everyone who comes through our gates.
At one point, we found ourselves standing over nearly a dozen empty bottles and cut-open tubes of medication, scraping out every last bit we could reach so nothing would be wasted.
And I could not help but think about the loaves and fishes.
A few pieces of bread. A few fish. Never enough by themselves.
Yet somehow, when placed in the hands of Jesus, what seemed insufficient became enough for the people standing in front of Him.
That afternoon felt much the same.
Little by little, we pieced together antibiotics, worm medicine, fungal creams, and supplies until that mother left with the treatment her children needed.
The miracle was not that our shelves were full.
The miracle was that God used what was available.
And He continues to do the same through people like you.
A bottle of medicine. A box of supplies. A gift from someone who may never meet the family it helps.
Another loaf.
Another fish.
Another family receiving care.
What happened that afternoon was not unusual. It is the kind of choice our clinic staff make every day.
Many of our staff return home each evening to the same challenges faced by the patients they serve. Long nights without electricity. Mosquitoes. Limited resources. Children with needs of their own.
And still, they come back the next day ready to serve.
Looking back, it’s remarkable how many hands were part of that single afternoon.
Some searched through drawers.
Some stocked the shelves months earlier.
Some sent supplies from hundreds of miles away.
Some gave quietly and never heard the outcome.
That mother may never know all the names connected to her children’s care.
But God does.
The next momma is already on the road.
We just don’t know her name yet.
To give directly toward these needs:
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Choose Mole Ministry as the designation.
Checks Payable To:
NWHCM
PO Box 586
Lebanon, IN 46052
Designation: Mole Ministry
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