Alice, An Accidental Friend

If you are a member of our congregation, you have heard about Alice over the years.  Alice is 14 and has AIDS and TB.  Both her parents died from AIDS, so Alice lives with her grandparents right outside the Nazareth Hospital compound in a small shanty with no electricity.

I didn’t give Alice much thought as I packed to come to Kenya.  I knew I would meet her on the porch of our house, along with all the children who gather there after school.  Sure enough, our first day here, Alice arrived as expected. The porch was filled to overflowing with children when we were introduced to each other.  Despite all the many faces full of self-assurance, it was obvious immediately that Alice reigned at the top of the porch pecking order.

I was lost in the pure joy of this after-school chaos when this confident young girl, way too tiny for her age but somehow larger than life, looked me square in the eye, and said,

“You and me, photo.”

It was in that moment that our hearts connected.

The next afternoon, Alice reappeared as we set off on a late afternoon walk to the tea fields. Jim put Alice in charge of the candy bag with strict instructions to follow the rules – one piece of candy for each child who we encountered along the way; no candy for adults.  Away we went, her hand in mine, bags slung over each of our shoulders – hers filled with candy, mine with a camera.

The walk through the tea fields is indescribably beautiful.  It is also a long one, and my heart broke a dozen times along the way.  Alice suggested I might like to make her a birthday cake one day; she has never had one.  She told me she does her homework by candlelight.  She asked me to send her a copy of the “you and me” photo.  Alice coughed a lot as we climbed the hills at a fast pace, stopping only to tie her shoes or to dispense candy to the gaggles of dirt poor shack children we met along the way.

Despite my broken heart, it was a glorious day. The tea fields were captivatingly beautiful.  The sun was warm on our backs.  Alice and I shared our life stories and fell in love.  And as fast as my heart would break, God would mend it through the touch of her hand in mine.

Jim spoke to us this week of “compassionate emptiness.”  He asked, where in this pilgrimage have you emptied yourself of everything, existing only to receive as much as possible from God?  For me, it happened in the tea fields with a beautiful child of God named Alice.  Where today will you be empty enough to receive the gift of compassionate emptiness?  And maybe even an accidental friend?

by Becky Lyle Pinkard, a member of First Presbyterian Church in Norfolk, Virginia.