As PLC’s video editor this summer, I’ve been reviewing our film archives a lot—so much, in fact, that I could probably find all the footage we’ve gathered until this point. During one of my recent searches in the archives, I found video clips labeled under children with “RIP” next to their names. For a moment, I stared at the text.
“Oh,” I realized. “These children died in the hospital.”
I know this happens; it’s a terrible reality of the work we do. Some children have simply been too sick for too long.
On our recent Remedy Mission to southern Iraq, a little boy named Adnan died.
He had been sick for four years—but when he traveled abroad for surgery, no one would operate on him. He was too big of a risk, and international doctors looked at him and said nothing could be done.
When his family arrived at the Remedy Mission, they just wanted someone to try—so we did. But ultimately, his heart had been broken by complications for too long.
Adnan still died.
When I heard the news, I asked myself: “Was it a waste to try to save a child whom many thought was too big of a risk? Were the foreign doctors right after all?”
Maybe, but I don’t think so.
Preemptive love isn’t just for those who have every chance in the world—it’s for the “last-chancers”—the ones who have no where else to turn. More children will die, yes, but there will also be more children who live—children who receive life even when it seems like all hope is lost.
There will always be more “RIP” labels. Even so, there will also be more footage of children who made it—and that, I think, is why we keep trying. We keep trying so that others may have a chance to receive hope, healing, and life after surgery. We never give up—and that, I think, is the greatness of preemptive love.
This post continues a series of intern reflection posts from the summer 2013 internship. Interested in interning with us? Click here to visit our internship page!