When God Tells You To Buy a Lion

Two weeks ago I found myself going crazy last-minute shopping for little baby boy things.  I was about to become the caretaker of a newborn, and since my "baby" just turned 22 yesterday, I had nothing at home with which to care for a newborn.  I bought clothes, a car seat, a heater for my bedroom that sometimes gets into the upper 40's, a swing, bottles...the works.  I had quite a tab going and thought that I might better slow down, but who doesn't get excited about a newborn?  The sales lady was calculating the grand total, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw a lion.  He was one of those stuffed animals with freakishly long arms and velcro on his paws so that he can wrap around your neck and hug you, and if you push his belly, he roars.  God spoke to my heart and said, "Buy the lion." I grabbed it but was really thinking it was kind of a silly thing to buy a baby, when it dawned on me that the lion was for his 19 year old special needs mother, Mari. Part of me wondered if it might be too juvenile even though Mari has serious deficits, but I had heard God clearly, so I bought it.

Mari's story is a difficult one. Her mother has serious mental issues and was repeatedly raped by family members.  Mari and her sister Ana were the children that resulted from that abuse, and both have serious mental deficits. As things tend to go around here, those with special needs are considered sub-human and are used, abused, neglected, and discarded. This has happened to Mari and Ana many times. Their lives have been a horror story. These past 2 weeks have been particularly hard on Mari. At 8+ months pregnant after being raped by a cousin, family members were vying for her baby wanting to sell him to the highest bidder while others simply wanted to get rid of the "problem" and kill both her and the baby. Then she and her sister were kidnapped by another man and continuously raped for an entire week. Her only advocates were her tiny 80 year old grandmother and her late 60's physically handicapped uncle. I stepped in.  Getting in between angry family members, some of whom belong to one of the largest drug and human trafficking syndicates in Santa Barbara and others of whom are just plain evil has been one of the scariest things I've ever done here, but this is the job...not just MY job as a missionary, but OUR job as the church.  Want proof?

Psalm 82:3-4 "Give justice to the weak and the fatherless; maintain the rights of the afflicted and the destitute.  Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked." 

Psalm 31:8-9  "Open your mouth for the mute, for the rights of all who are destitute. Open your mouth, judge righteously, defend the rights of the poor and needy." 

Proverbs 24:11-12  "Rescue those who are being taken away to death; hold back those who are stumbling towards the slaughter. If you say, "But I didn't know," does not He who knows the heart perceive it?  Does not He who keeps watch over your soul know it, and will He not repay you according to what you did?"   

I don't think that God means that we are only to do these things so long as they don't inconvenience us or put us in any personal danger.  I think He intends for us to JUST DO IT. This past Sunday, Mari went into labor and I raced to her house to get to her before the narco relatives did.  Praise God, I was successful in that and brought her to a wonderful private hospital where baby boy was born via c-section. I stayed two sleepless nights to keep watch over Mari and take care of baby.  When they were discharged, we left super early to avoid the narcos who had angrily come to the hospital the day before in an attempt to grab the baby and run.  We went to the judge, and long story short, Mari and baby were taken from me and placed in a shelter. Because Mari trusts no one but me, I had to be the one to put her in the police truck that was going to take them away.  She didn't understand what was happening and cried and cried.  The next day when I visited her in the shelter, she pushed me away when I tried to hug her.  Getting her to trust me enough to let me touch her took me awhile, and that was ruined with the police truck.  She'll still smile at me, but from afar.  It kills me.

But back to the lion.  Mari has taken that thing EVERYWHERE.  She walked the hospital halls with it, slept with it, had it around her neck in the judge's chambers, and held him in the police truck.  When she feels especially sad, lonely, or upset, she squeezes his belly to make him roar.  I listened to the roar ALL SUNDAY NIGHT after the baby's birth. Just when I thought she was finally asleep,  ROAR, ROAR, ROAR.  It didn't upset me--I was already up keeping careful watch over baby--it made me smile that God knew this lost little girl would need some source of constant comfort...something she could keep with her when an actual person couldn't be there or when she was in unfamiliar surroundings...something she could hold and love in place of the baby she didn't want, didn't entirely realize was even hers, even though her little body instinctually knew she was supposed to be holding and loving something.  God knew.  And He told me to buy the lion.  God took such tender care of a little one who this world deems a nobody.  Now that she is in the shelter, upset and confused that she is separated from family, unable to talk to anyone because she speaks Mam, she just lugs her little lion all around, and it comforts her. The only thing holding me together right now is knowing she has something for comfort  and Someone Who sees her.  

So the next time God whispers something strange in your ear, just buy the lion.