To understand
His cry pierced the silence of the night. At that time, several months ago, our little son Elijah was normally sleeping through the night. I waited a minute, but his cries did not abate, and so I pulled him out of his tent pitched at the end of our bed. Instantly, I knew he was warm, too warm even for a humid night in rainy season in Chad. I nudged Gabriel awake, and he found the thermometer. 39 degrees Celsius. Fever. My baby has a fever. And I’m in Chad. Warning bells went off in my head and fear gripped my heart. I had known this day would come, I knew sooner or later he would get malaria. This was his first time, though, and I was nervous. I slathered his Malarone pill in peanut butter and Gabriel shoved it down his throat. After nursing him, finally he fell back asleep. The next few days were marked by fever, fussiness, and fervent prayers. The majority of local families have lost a child to malaria and even missionary children have died in this land of malaria. At times I fe