Just waiting for a ride to see a doctor takes about half a day. In the hospital, if you are lucky, you might see a doctor after a day of waiting in line. A major complaint is that poor people don't always get the medical attention they need.

While the medical team was setting up tents for the clinic in Cebu, a little girl, just five years old, showed up around 7:00 in the morning. She looked as if she just woke up.

I asked her why she was there so
early and her reply was, "I want to
be treated."

"Is your mom or dad with you?" I inquired.

"No, I am alone."

"Where are your parents?" I became
more curious.

"They went to work very early," was her calm reply.

"Are they coming back soon to register you?" I asked.

"They won't be back until late this evening," she answered firmly.

"Then how are you going to get your treatment if you don't have somebody responsible to register you?" I became more concerned.

"You, you will help me," she was pointing at me.

"But I cannot do that. I am not your dad." Her face never changed. She looked at me like I was destined to be the person to do it.

Our conversation was interrupted when I had to counsel one of the adult parents.

She disappeared for a while. When she came back she was showered, dressed in a beautiful pink dress and carrying a small backpack that matched her size. She looked so cute and beautiful.

"Wow, you're so pretty in that outfit! Are you going to school?" She answered by pointing to a small building that appeared to be a day care center.

The teacher probably did not notice her disappearance from the room. She was just freely going around from tent to tent hoping that some of the adults will include her when they register their family. But nobody offered. She was on her own. Everyone else was looking after their own interests.

"You have to have someone in your family be responsible to help you
when you see the doctor," I insisted when she came back asking me to sponsor her.

She looked at me with her beautiful eyes and long eyelashes that just melted my heart. I choked up, trying
to hold back tears.

I spoke to some of the staff people from the Mercy Project, our local
co-partner in the Medical outreach, asking what we can do since she did not have an adult family member with her. They were none committal about the situation because it was going to be a big responsibility for anyone if anything happens.

I concurred and decided we will just ignore her. And so we thought. Then just before we were to close the clinic, as I was sitting under a shade just meditating and thanking God for the ministry well done, a small hand touched my shoulder.

When I turned around it was this little girl again. She was kissing my arms and my cheeks whispering, "If you do not treat me, I'll be more sick."

"See this?" She pulled her hair behind her ears and pointed to me a huge lump. It was a large boil. And she showed me some small ones all over her head. She also had bruises in her body like she has been through a gauntlet.

She was not to be denied. I took her hand and brought her to the nurses.

"Examine her," I requested. "Then take her to the doctor," I urged them.

"I'll be responsible for her," my eyes ready to rain tears on the nurses if
they refused.

We all smiled as the doctor examined her and gave her prescription for her malady.

As I ushered her to our makeshift pharmacy, my heart bloated with joy that we could come 10,000 miles and meet a need like "this little one's."

She sat on a chair, alone. She waited until her number was called. She did not move until she got what she came for.

And we (UBC) were there!