A couple months ago, I sat in my pastor's house and listened to his wife tell me the story of the baby I held in my arms. It was their three-month-old son and he had already survived an amputation.
"We noticed he had jaundice," she said. "So we took him to the hospital. They told us he had it severely and transferred us to a larger hospital in Accra."
The larger hospital treated the jaundice with the expected photo-therapy and the unexpected week-long dosage of a strong antibiotic, given through a port in his leg.
"By Thursday, I saw the port was not good, so when the nurse entered the room, I told her. But she just said, 'Oh, don't worry,' and gave the medication through the port as it was. Within just a small time, the baby's leg had swollen and was bleeding from the port. And by that weekend, the toes of his foot were black."
"We have to amputate the foot," the doctor told her gravely. "The foot is dead."
The pastor and his wife are praying people and disagreed. Losing a foot at infancy is never a good thing, but losing a foot in a culture where many cripples become beggars is almost unthinkable. "We want to take him home," they told the doctors, "so we can ask God to heal our son."
They did just that. But less than a week after the child was home, there was no longer any question about what needed to be done. The baby was lethargic and the foot was beginning to smell.
"He wouldn't even respond to pain." The mother shook her head at the memory. "He just laid there and never cried even when they were working on him. So they had to do the surgery."
The amputation was followed by a three-week hospital stay.
"I watched mothers come with their babies and by the time they left, I was still sitting in there with my son." She laughed gently.
Jesus said that a Christian testimony, like a city on a hilltop, cannot be hidden. And Faustina's testimony was not lost in the hospital.
"I wasn't in there very long before the doctors would direct crying mothers to me and tell them, 'Go talk to this woman and ask her what she is doing here. Listen to all she has been through and see how she hasn't lost her faith.' So they came to me."
There was no pride in her voice as she told me this part of the story. No pride, but a deep gratitude for her unusual platform of ministry. "They came to me and I was able to talk to them and tell them about the grace of God that is holding me. I told them all the troubles of my son and how God was able to carry me in this difficult trial. So I was able to witness to them and encourage women even while being in the hospital."
I sensed the depth of this woman's spirit. "God knew He could trust you with this deep trial. I am sure your testimony to all the doctors and all the other women you witnessed to brought God much glory."
She laughed again. "Maybe it is like that."
Undoing the snaps on her baby's sleeper, this woman of faith showed me the stub where a darling baby foot should have been. "The hospital acknowledged their mistake and we didn't see that nurse again. Maybe she has been transferred." Faustina sounded matter-of-fact. Meanwhile, I hoped the nurse had been transferred to another profession entirely.
"So the hospital is going to set up an appointment with another doctor who can see about getting us a prosthesis when the child turns one year. That way he can learn how to walk." The little baby wiggled and whimpered and the mother lifted him to herself.
"Not only do you have a baby who lost his foot and nearly died," I began, "but you also know that this happened because of a nurse who didn't do her job well. When you speak of her, you don't sound angry. Have you forgiven the nurse?"
Faustina smiled again and gave her gentle laugh. "Yes, by the grace of God. God gives me the strength to forgive."
I looked at the baby nestled against his mother, his dark chocolate brown eyes reflecting the love-light I saw in hers. She smiled down on him, making the perfect picture of motherhood. But it was more than that. It was a picture of beautiful testimony of forgiveness and grace.
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