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Living Without Hope

Remember the joy of holding your firstborn child? Feeling that soft, smooth skin. Looking into those innocent eyes. Marveling at a life formed by God in your womb. A miracle. The miracle of life. Remember the awe you felt. And the love for that child. Wondering if you could ever love another child as much as you love the child you are now holding.

Your life revolved around the needs of this infant, feeding, bathing, making sure the baby received proper medical care. You did all that was necessary to ensure that your child had the best chance possible at a good life.

Now try to imagine for a few minutes that you don’t live here, in a comfortable home with all the necessities for babies at hand, with the doctor only a phone call away.

Try to imagine that you are a Maquiritare woman, a Maquiritare mother of an adorable little baby boy. Being a Maquiritare mother does not diminish your love for your child one iota. You still love your child as much as you did a minute ago. You still want the best for your child. You love this child with all your heart.

And then this chubby baby boy of yours suddenly becomes ill. You’re holding him in your arms when he stops breathing. There’s no hospital. No emergency room.  No doctor. Your heart nearly dies within you. And then he starts breathing again and you sigh in relief.

However the relief is short-lived. … It happens again. … And again.

You’re scared. You could take your child to the missionaries but what good would it do? Your husband, the father of the child, claims he is NOT the father of the child. He disowned the baby and went and made a boat. He knew that by making a boat while the child was still an infant that the child will get sick and die. But he did it anyway.

There’s no hope now. There’s no way the baby can live. The father has signed the child’s death warrant.

You’re scared. You’re without hope. Your child will die.

This really happened. The adorable little baby boy did die. He was placed in a rough wooden box and laid in a grave.  His mother was left with empty arms. Without hope.

Would you want to live that way? Would you want to die that way?

We did not pick our place of birth. That could have been me. That could have been you.

What are we doing to make a difference?


ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Rosie Cochran

I am a pastor’s wife, former missionary, mother of four great sons (and a wonderful daughter-in-law!), and author of three Christian suspense novels: Betrayed, Identity Revealed, and A Murder Unseen. (Available at: Amazon.com.) I have a passion for God, my family, and writing!
If you want to connect with me, join me on TwitterFacebookGoodreads, and Pinterest.  Interested in updates by email? CLICK HERE!

Have a question? Email Me!

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  1. September 6, 2012 at 11:53 am

    A real eye opener Rosie.In a fair world it should never be allowed to happen. In a fair world the Government of the country would ensure the mother and father were both educated and that there were adequate nursing stations. Until that happens, we will have to donate what we can to help families like this and make sure our own Governments make sure aid reaches the people it’s meant to.

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