Every day in Swaziland was a reminder of what true faith is. I would meet thirsty, hungry, lonely people who worshiped God, praised God, and gave him all the glory. Always. They sang. They danced. They smiled, even in the midst of extreme pain. One thing was certain: God is good, and they were faithful.
 
In the midst of all this faith, I was reading a section in the book Crazy Love about faith and risk. Author Francis Chan asks a bold question, "What are you doing right now that required faith?" In America, we are obsessed with safety. We love insurance, saving accounts, seat belts, you name it. Many times, even as Christians who claim to trust God with everything, trust him with... nothing.
 
We live our lives as though we don't need him. We don't have faith, because our lives don't require it. It may not even be a risk with materialistic things; maybe it's a risk in telling someone about Jesus' love, or forgiving someone. The point is, I sat in my bed thinking, "Am I stepping out in a bold way right now?" I felt the answer was no. So I prayed. I asked God to give me a test of faith, to let me risk for him.  
 
He answered. In two days.
 
A few of my teammates and I were presented with a tough choice. There was a lady across the street named Dudu. She was 26 years old, with an 8 month old son, wasting away with AIDS.  But she also had another issue-drug resistant TB. For those of you who aren't knowledgeable about this disease, it is one that is extremely contagious. And just to give you an idea of health care in America, if Dudu was in our hospitals she would have her own isolated room, with a separate ventilation system, and those who entered would have special suits with helmets that resembled astronauts. 
 
Dudu needed some medicine. She needed care. She needed prayer. But there was this disease in the way, this scary, contagious, possibly deadly disease. So I prayed.
 
There were so many reasons not to go to Dudu's, I even thought of getting sick and then not being able to go to nursing school and help so many others. Was it really worth it to risk so many for just one? Then I turned to the parable of the 99 sheep and how the Shepard goes back, even just for one. Wow. That was obvious. Then I walk by the Bible verse board, only to see the latest verse written down was 1 John 3:16, about laying our lives down for our brothers. At this point, I looked up and said, "Okay, God, I'm going."
 
So we went. The details of all the medical parts aren't important, but what is crucial not just to my whole summer, but to my entire life, was a moment that happened as my leader Amanda gave Dudu a shot in her leg.
 
Dudu literally weighed about 80 pounds. Every bone in her body was prominent and as Amanda struggled to find enough flesh to poke the needle in her frail figure, I was the comforter at the head of the bed--Rubbing her head, and holding her hand. As the needle pierced her skin, she winced with so much pain and agony and squeezed my hand with all the strength she could muster. As I started into her eyes thinking of my own sister who is exactly her age...thinking of how selfless Dudu had been previously, asking for prayer only for her child, that he would have enough food-not for herself or her pain, thinking of how lonely it must be for no one to visit because of your disease...as I thought all of these things, in this exact moment, I felt true love. I know this, because I wanted to take all the disease out of her body and put it in mine. I wanted all her pain. All her heartache. Everything. 
 
After this visit, we continued to go back to across the road to her humble home. One night she had a really bad fever and could hardly breathe. Some days, her body really looked like it was finished. And even though the idea of infection to our whole team lingered, we were so convinced that if Jesus Christ was in Swaziland with us, he would visit Dudu, because who else would? And who were we to not trust in the Lord to protect us?
 
The days went by, and soon turned to weeks, and by the end of 2 months, Dudu was like family. We would take her food, pray with her, and read to her. I'll never forget the first time I saw her smile, really smile, when we brought her a piece of meat from our cow roast. What a beautiful moment!
 
As the trip came to a close, we all went for one final goodbye. Dudu talked more than she ever had, thanking us for being her friend and visiting her. She even asked Amanda for her sunglasses.. As we were leaving, she asked to go outside on the porch to see us off, so I scooped her up and put her on the chair as she sported her new shades. She grinned as she waved bye.
 
Typing this story out literally gives me chills. Dudu was about to die, but when we left, there was new life. Yes, she is still sick, very sick, but she made about 10 new friends this summer and we loved her with all we had.  
 
The best part of this story? We all tested negative for TB... possibly a medical miracle.
Kati is a student at Marshall University in Huntington, WV where she is majoring in nursing with a minor in "I have no idea what I'm going to do when I graduate." She recently spent 2 months in Swaziland and learned more than she ever could have imagined. In her free time, she enjoys Chinese buffets, fighting for social justice, discipling her small group of 9th graders, and all things active.