SPECIAL REPORT
Living Beyond the Numbers
BY JONATHAN GANNON I
f you could sit and visit with any of our outreach team members who traveled to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia,
on April 23-May 3, each would express a collective sense of awe and affirm that the Lord did more in that Jewish community than anyone expected— 9,750 patients treated and 918 salva- tions! These numbers establish new benchmarks for JVMI. Indeed, they are more than double the results of previ- ous outreaches.
But rather than focusing on the statistical totals from this event, I’d like to share a personal story with you. I wish I could tell you how much of a difference I made in someone’s life. I’d prefer to share how my ministry gifts and organizational skills made a lasting impact. But instead I will tell you of how a 16-year-old shoeshine boy named Dems changed me. On Monday, the first day of the medical clinic week, my laptop comput- er was infected with a virus and ren- dered useless. When I realized that my computer had crashed, I immediately began to grieve. My melodramatically gloomy countenance was borderline comical to those around me. In spite of all the amazing things the Lord was doing through our JVMI outreach team, I was mentally obsessing about my dead
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computer. I knew that I wouldn’t know until my return to the United States whether any of my work and personal data was recoverable. I’m sure I remind- ed the Lord of Jonah when the worm chewed up and destroyed his shade- producing vine. (Jonah 4:7) At the end of the day, I was alone
in the compound waiting for Dr. Doug Rampona and the eye team to finish the remaining eye surgeries. The clinic was officially closed for the day and the team was back at the hotel. It was then that I noticed that one of our local Ethiopian workers was lingering near the gate. His orange vest and lanyard nametag indicated that he was one of the many local workers we had hired that morning. He warmly approached me, though I was still distracted by thoughts of my crashed computer, and we began to visit. His name was Dems, a 16-year-old
boy from the Kechene community. He proudly brought me over to the gate of the compound and showed me a small wooden box nestled under a very modest stool. Inside the box were the typical instruments used by the many shoeshine boys in the area. This was Dems’ mobile office. His eyes were bright with pride as he described his skilled proficiency in shining shoes.
He pointed at my muddy and tired
feet and offered to shine my shoes free of charge. I reluctantly agreed, quickly rationalizing that I would pay him his normal 5 birr fee (less than 3 cents) as well as a handsome tip. As he propped up my shoes one at a time, quickly restoring them to their former glory, he shared his story with me. In his coveted post as the official
shoeshine boy of this particular corner, he earned a meager 15-30 birr per day ($1-$3). His mother suffered from poor health and was not able to work outside the home. His older, unmarried sister had recently abandoned her baby. As the default breadwinner for the entire family, Dems supported his ailing mother, his young baby niece, and himself on his meager shoeshine salary. Dems was also enrolled as a full-time student at the local high school, and had to stretch his earnings to purchase his school supplies and books. As he talked about his life and his goals, rather than projecting discouragement and frustration, his eyes only radiated hope.
As he completed the restoration of
my shoes through his skilled shoeshine services, I realized that I had become completely emotionally immersed in his story. “Dems,” I said, “do you know
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