"Millennium Development Goal #4 Reduce Child Mortality" -- by John G. Miers

"Thus says the Lord: A voice is heard in Ramah, lamentation and bitter weeping. Rachel is weeping for her children; she refuses to be comforted for her children, because they are no more." -Jeremiah 31:15

Rachel is weeping. I would be, too. There is a special bond between a parent and child. This also extends beyond parents, however. It includes grandparents, too. It also goes to Godparents, Aunts and Uncles, and then to Cousins and just regular friends. People see potential and hope in these children, (whatever their relationship may be). People see the future. Each child is seen uniquely and separately, a gift from God, and treasure to be cherished and prized. Each is special.

Several weeks ago, I went to a local hospital, to visit the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit, known as “the PICU.” There were many sick kids there, some very ill. There were family members there trying to soothe each other, trying to be there for each other, trying to be there for the sick child. There were subdued voices and frightened faces. There was not much weeping; there was a lot of hope. People were there hoping for healing, expecting healing, assuming that healing would come and come soon. The doctors and nurses and technicians were all bustling around. But there was hope. Always.

This was here in the US. But what about “over there?” What about places where there is not so much technology as we have here? There are places where supplies are short or non-existent. Stethoscopes, maybe; monitors, no way. But there are children there who are sick, many of whom are quite sick, and have been sick for a long time. Each is special, and each is prized. But is there hope? Sometimes. How can we ensure that “sometimes” will increase to “most of the time,” and that “most of the time” will increase to “always?”

This is the key to having MDG #4 – to “Reduce Child Mortality.” This is a goal that everyone can identify with. People see sick children everywhere, and we must remind them that things are more drastic “over there.” In order to “Reduce Child Mortality,” it has to be done there, too. It is harder to do it there, for several reasons. First, more children are sick, and there are fewer resources to care for them expertly.

This is where this MDG comes in. Through various arms and agencies, it encourages and allows us all to help. Those of us “over here” are encouraged to help those who are “over there.” Funds and resources are needed. We can donate time, resources, and funds, the ‘Time, Talent, and Treasure’ about which we have learned. We have so much “over here” that it is obvious where it is needed – and needed desperately. How can we ensure that Child Mortality will be reduced? How can we ensure that Rachel will weep less? Find an agency with international ties. Find a foreign hospital. Support them, and help Rachel stop weeping.

John Miers is from Bethesda, Maryland, where he was employed at the National Institutes of Health from 1968 to 2005. He serves on the board of St. Luke’s House, a halfway house for persons recovering from mental illness and also serves as Jubilee Officer for the Diocese of Washington. He was a member of National Commission on Science, Technology and Faith for the Episcopal Church and is active in his local church, where he is in the choir, worship committee, pastoral care committee, and the prayer team, and he also visits patients in a local hospital on behalf of the Chaplain.

"A Prayer for Children" -- submitted by Dr. Christiana Russ

For her post this month, Dr. Christiana Russ offers this poem that was shared with her by her mentor at Children's Hospital in Boston. Christiana is a pediatrician who splits time between Children's and an Anglican hospital in Maseno, Kenya.

[from A Prayer for Children by Ina Hughs. Wm. Morrow and Company, NY., 1995. Pgs XIV-XV.]

We pray for children
who sneak popsicles before supper,
who erase holes in math workbooks,
who can never find their shoes.

And we pray for those
who stare at photographers from behind barbed wire,
who can't bound down the street in a new pair of sneakers,
who never "counted potatoes,"
who are born in places we wouldn't be caught dead,
who never go to the circus,
who live in an X-rated world.

We pray for children
who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions,
who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money.

And we pray for those
who never get dessert,
who have no safe blankets to drag behind them,
who watch their parents watch them die,
who can't find any bread to steal,
who don't have any rooms to clean up,
whose pictures aren't on anybody's dresser,
whose monsters are real.

We pray for children
who spend all their allowances before Tuesday,
who throw tantrums in the grocery store and pick at their food,
who like ghost stories,
who shove dirty clothes under the bed and never rinse out the tub,
who get visits from the tooth fairy,
who don't like to be kissed in front of the carpool,
who squirm in church or temple and scream in the phone,
whose tears we sometimes laugh at and whose smiles can make us cry.

And we pray for those
whose nightmares come in the daytime,
who will eat anything,
who have never seen a dentist,
who aren't spoiled by anybody,
who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep,
who live and move, but have no being.

We pray for children who want to be carried
and for those who must,
for those we never give up on and for those
who don't get a second chance.
For those we smother…and for those who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to offer it.

[The poem was written following the Oklahoma City bombing by Ina Hughes, columnist for the Knoxville News-Sentinel.]

Dr. Christiana Russ is a pediatrician doing her residency at Boston Children's Hospital. She also spends time at an Anglican mission hospital in Kenya through a joint arrangement with Children's and the Diocese of Massachusetts. Christiana is the chair of the Executive Council Standing Commission on HIV/AIDS.

"Growing up too fast in Northern Uganda" - by Erin Bernstein

I have seen more children during my two weeks here in Gulu, northern Uganda than anywhere else in my entire life. Interestingly, though, I could say just the opposite: I have seen very few children since I arrived in the north.

How is this possible? Since the civil war began in 1986 and hostilities ended in 2006, children and teenagers in northern Uganda are just now learning what peace means, and for many of them, life in squalid internally displaced persons camps is all they know.

They grew up too quickly—the girls, especially. They had no choice. Rarely do I find a young woman without a baby on her back, and rarely do I find a girl my age or younger who will talk to me without looking away in discomfort. I have noticed that girls and women are more reserved than men in this culture, but the timidity in these young women is more evident than in the ones I met in Kampala and areas in southern Uganda.

Trauma, I have learned, is the contributing factor to this unusual behavior in children, causing several local education organizations to move their main focus from supporting high academic achievers to intertwining psycho-social support into the curriculum. Due to staff shortages, however, they have to train teachers in this field. Teachers become the trauma counselors, but they are teachers first, and above all that, they have their own trauma to conquer before they can help others.

Poverty presents another challenge. Availability of teachers is running low because funds to pay them are running low. Fewer teachers are willing to work for the current salary, which means that schools have more students than they would normally have per teacher. Quality of education thus decreases, making northern Ugandan schools even less nationally competitive than they already are.

Poverty in the north also affects the young people who want to attend school but cannot afford it. Last week, I met a boy who could not go to school because he did not have a uniform; it cost four dollars. I understand that schools have their rules and regulations, but I couldn’t believe that they would reject a child—an orphan living with his siblings in an IDP camp—wanting to learn because he didn’t own a uniform. The north is trying to rebuild itself. Recovering from over 20 years of war will take just as long, if not more. Why, then, deny the future generation of northern Uganda the chance to receive an education?

Even some families prevent their children from going to school. Many poor families force their daughters into early marriage so that her dowry will bring wealth to the family. These young girls do not typically return to school after marriage because their responsibility is now to their husbands and children, but what about the ones who do? They return, perhaps with their babies in the classroom, and present the message that it is okay to leave school to get married. A girl with children, though, cannot progress academically. Family is the top priority.

Whether because of trauma or poverty, children in the north are already marginalized and are at risk of permanent inferiority to their countrymen. A traumatized person, spending more time battling emotional issues than engaging in her studies, is less likely to perform well. A child who does not perform well is less likely to receive scholarship funding. A child who is neglected as a high achiever is less likely to maintain confidence, and a child who lacks self-esteem is less likely to stay in school.

Those who do not complete their education, though, are doomed to poor and mediocre jobs, widening the economic gap between the north and the rest of the country. Trauma, war-induced poverty, and education go hand-in-hand now. Schools are places for acquiring knowledge, but now they must serve an additional purpose. They must become safe environments for addressing mental health issues and sorting out the memories that run amok in people’s minds. They must encourage people to talk, and they must facilitate healing.

Erin Bernstein is a junior at the University of Tennessee, designing a major in the comparison of post-conflict education in Northern Uganda and education in inner-city Knoxville. Her passion for serving people has brought her to Hungary, Romania, and South Africa through the Rotary Club of Knoxville and to Botswana, Uganda, and back to South Africa through the Knoxville Jazz for Justice Project, which seeks to music as healing in war-torn Northern Uganda. She is currently in the middle of a two-month stay in Uganda for an internship at the Ugandan Parliament and to work on an art therapy project with young women in the north. Read more from Erin at her ongoing blog of her trip: Uganda 2008.

Meet the Greens!

THE GREENS is a brand new Web site from WGBH in Boston -- you know that station that has its call letters sandwiched around PBS shows like Frontline, NOVA, Masterpiece Theatre and Antiques Roadshow, Zoom and Arthur.

The Greens is an online project that may yet become a TV show -- an animated family (The Greens) who aim to get kids thinking about the world, environmental stewardship and what one can do about it.

"Through the animated episodic adventures, a blog, kids' mail, and regular updates, we will explore green living - sustainability, ecology, environmental care and social equity. We will nudge kids to research, to challenge, to discover, and to take action whereever and whenever they can."

And they even have buddy icons you can download.