a "good" gift

it's Christmas. that time of year when everything seems to touch our hearts, when joy and love and laughter and times with family and friends fill the days, a time of hope and peace. it is a "good" time of the year. as Believers in Christ as the Son of the Heavenly Father, this time of year is special as we remember the greatest gift ever given to man...infinite love and mercy wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger.

the Bible only briefly touches on the hardship that mary and joseph experienced in being chosen to bear the Hope of all time. but, something i was reading the other day made me stop and think about it. mary was young, likely a teenager, being asked to bear her first child. she was pregnant, never having been with a man, but who was going to believe that...the proof was right there before everyone. in her culture, pregnancy out of wedlock was easily a stone-able offense but joseph initially thought to just divorce her. in her culture, divorce carried a very bad stigma. she faced whispers and rumors and divorce and death. she could have been disowned by her parents in a culture where the only means of income left to her due to her condition was prostitution or it's equal. joseph would have faced some of the same whispers and rumors and basically held mary's life in his hands...choosing between death and divorce. what a "good" gift given to them, right? but mary responded "i am your servant." and joseph chose to take mary as his wife b/c he was led by the Father.

we see (and rightly so) the greatness of the gift to mary and joseph and all mankind. but, next time we are tempted to whisper "where is God when it hurts?" or shout "a good God wouldn't allow this!" or doubt, perhaps we will remember that the greatest gift of all didn't seem so at the time. and yet, by entering into His purpose willingly, what joy! what blessing came.

merry Christmas!

love me now...

i ran across this poem a little bit ago and although it was about someone who was dying, it is a good reminder for us who are living...and i would even go so far as to add...not only love and let them know, but love well.

The Time is Now

If you are ever going to love me,
Love me now, while I can know
The sweet and tender feelings
Which from true affection flow.
Love me now
While I am living.
Do not wait until I am gone
And then have it chiseled in marble,
Sweet words on ice-cold stone.
If you have tender thoughts of me,
Please tell me now.
If you wait until I am sleeping,
Never to awaken,
There will be death between us
And I won't hear you then.
So, if you love me, even a little bit,
Let me know while I am living,
So I can treasure it.
author unknown

nails

below is a short quote my pastor shared on sunday and my thoughts on it. it really touched me and i hope it will do the same for you.

We tell the Lord in the beginning of the day that we want to do his will regardless of the cost. Yet we often find, by nightfall, that our cross, so earnestly accepted in the morning hours, has been dropped somewhere along the way. Why is our cross so difficult to hold on to while Christ persevered to the end? What did the cross of Christ have that ours lacks? Answer: NAILS. The nails are to Jesus’ cross what our obedience is to Christ’s call to discipleship. Have you noticed the nails that are offered to you each day? They are the momentary situations in which you have a choice to make: Deciding not to explode in anger when your kid breaks something you told her not to touch. Helping someone when you are rushed for time and don’t feel like helping. Being a host even if it costs you time, money, or position. Not insisting on having things done your own way even though you’re convinced you are right. Sometimes the nails seem so small, yet they’re so essential. (Michael Smith, “Nails,” Discipleship Journal 2, no. 7 (January 1982): 33).

we are each called to bear a cross, a burden. it is often easily shed unless we accept the "nails" that bind us to our cross just as Christ was bound to His cross by nails. His nails were justice, mercy, love--He was bound to His cross in love! our love for Him should cause us to accept the "nails" He offers to bind us to our crosses. the nails may be seemingly little things or overwhelmingly big things...but they are given to draw us and hold us closer to Christ.

Anchored

forgive the sea metaphor but IT IS what i've known the last two years...sitting at anchor doesn't sound like it would be that bad, right? well, actually, it was the one time when a few of my friends who didn't ever have sea-sickness while sailing got to experience my daily experience with motion sickness. the ship is being pushed and prodded by the sea and wants to move. but the anchor, dropped deep in the ocean keeps the ship on a tight leash in a specific area. not very fun really. and if you add in a storm tossed sea, i cannot imagine how much you would feel the pushing and pulling of the sea. but, it is a bit like it feels right now trying to readjust to home, when this place really hasn't been home in years. thankfully, as the song below says, (even though sitting at anchor isn't easy), the Anchor holds!

ray boltz "the anchor holds"
i have journeyed through the long dark night out on the open sea
by faith alone sight unknown and yet his eyes were watching me

the anchor holds though the ship is battered
the anchor holds though the sails are torn
i have fallen on my knees as i faced the raging seas
the anchor holds in spite of the storm

i've had visions i've had dreams i've even held them in my hand
but i never knew they would slip right through like they were only grains of sand

i have been young but i am older now
and there has been beauty these eyes have seen
but it was in the night through the storms of my life
that's where God proved his love to me

transplanted

I could probably share how even though this is "my" culture that I have come "home" to that it feels different or off somehow...as if I have been transplanted into a space not quite my own. Instead, I want to share some thoughts the Spirit whispered to me last week when I had some unexpected quiet/alone time during the crazy loveliness of Amy's wedding week.

John 15:1-8
"I am the Vine"
"My Father is the Gardener"
"Remain"
"I am the Vine, you are the branches"

When a surgeon is transplanting an organ, it is a very time-consuming, nerve-wracking, intricate and intimate process. The surgeon knows every bit of that organ as he/she painstakingly stitches each part of the transplanted organ into place...nerves, muscle, blood vessels. Then, he/she watches as the clamps are released and blood flows in to infuse the organ with life! But, it doesn't stop there. he/she watches over the patient (or transplanted organ) regularly...checking labs and getting x-rays or sonos and then tweaking this or that. The same goes for the gardener who has grafted a branch to a vine. Extra care is given to this branch, making sure it is getting just enough sun, just enough water, enough room to grow, enough. The grafted branches or transplanted organs are not left on their own to hopefully "take" and grow...they are lovingly watched over and cared for by the "transplantor".

We are branches grafted in to the Vine...when it seems dark and lonely and we wonder if we will survive, we are not on our own but being lovingly cared for by the Gardener. We are transplants into the family. He is watching over us, not leaving us to wander through this life on our own and trying to make ourselves into His image...NO! He is remaking us, reworking us...He has called us away to a new life but continues to work it out in us.

just some thoughts.

article

article about me in the local paper. off by just a bit on the timing...2 months or 2 years?!?!?

blind, deaf, mute

so, the other morning, i wanted to teach my one of my patients about oral care. i grabbed a translator and headed over to his bed. can you please tell kombate that i want to teach him about oral care. ok, now i want him to take the green mouth swab and dip it into the liquid . patient interrupts and points at his eyes. translator turns to me and says, "he cannot see. he is blind." okay, a bit of a problem but explains why he has a caregiver. (and wishing i had heard this in shift handover!). so, let's call the caregiver over and have her help him. the translator introduces himself and me to kombate's caregiver. she gestures to her ears. and the translator turns to me and says, she can't hear. i am simply stunned. we admitted a BLIND patient with a DEAF caregiver?!?!?!??! how does that help? ok, well we've got to carry on with the teaching and i'll just have to help guide kombate's hands. as the translator is speaking my words to kombate, the ridiculousness of the situation causes me to giggle and by the end, i am outright laughing so hard that tears are running down my face. the only thing that would have made this more comical is if i (the nurse) had been MUTE. (but we all know i have no problem with words).

turns out later, the caregiver is not actually deaf. she can hear. but she speaks a dialect no one else speaks so for all intents and purposes she is deaf to us. i still have to teach her by hang guestures and no words.

i will miss this place.

june newsletter

above photos: me with patient Anne (smallest Ponsetti casts ever!), Marius after surgery
second row: getaway weekend in front of waterfall, African road
bottom: cabin mates Amy (and fiancee Sam), Miriam and Haley

Dear Family and Friends,

I hope this letter/email finds each of you well. It would be great to hear from each of you how you are doing. Once again, I find myself amazed at how much time has passed since my last newsletter. I apologize for not sending one sooner. I am having trouble trying to summarize these past few months. How do I summarize the triumphs and failures, the joys and sorrows, the work, the life?

Infant feeding program: When the outreach started, I was the interim Feeding Program Coordinator. It was a busy time as each week new infants were referred from our screenings to be evaluated for the feeding program. I saw every baby under a year who had a cleft lip and/or palate as well as a set of premature twins. I would see each of these babies on a once or twice weekly visit to check and see how well they were gaining weight. Marius was one of our babies. He came in weighing around 2.5 kg (5.5 lbs) at four months of age…this is a normal birth weight! He was not much more than skin and bones. We supplied formula and teaching and encouragement and prayers for mom. Two months later, he tipped the scales at 5.3 kg (11.6 lbs) and was ready for surgery. After a rocky post-operative phase, he finally moved to the ward to the cheers of fellow patients and nurses and the praise song bursting forth from his mother’s heart.

Pediatric coordinator: Another role I’ve held this year. It meant reading lots of policies and research to update the policies. It meant teaching adult nurses to be pediatric nurses. It meant reading through lots of charts to see where we could do better. It meant lots of snuggles with kids with ready smiles if someone will just show them love…that was easy!

Pediatric ICU nurse: This is my official role on the ship. It has been a very difficult one this year. With my own grief from

mom’s passing so very fresh, each ICU patient, each patient death was ripping at a hurt barely beginning to heal. It has been a rough time. There have been more ICU patients than I remember being in the ICU last outreach. I think there have been less deaths but the ones have been patients that tore at our hearts…patients from last outreach, babies. There have been patients who should have done fine but then didn’t. I’ve had to use knowledge/skills that are not in my everyday here even though they were in my everyday work at home. BUT, it also meant getting to see a miracle. There are little day-to-day miracles that we miss a lot because we aren’t looking. But this miracle was an in-your-face, you can’t miss it miracle! We were preparing to place a breathing tube in a patient who had been struggling to breathe for over an hour. After a prayer by the surgeon, not only did we NOT intubate, but we were able to give less breathing support than we were previously giving! That just doesn’t happen. God is pretty amazing!

Emergency Medical Team: I am also on the EMT. It means that any time there is a patient doing badly or a crew member injured, there will be an overhead bell and the EMT will be called with a location. (it also means pretend victims every two weeks during fire drills). One EMT call found me sitting in the front room of my cabin with my cabin-mate Amy, both reading. I couldn’t find my shoes but hers were handy (pun intended!) so I dashed off in her shoes. I got upstairs to find it was Amy’s fiancée Sam who had lost the tip of his finger in a fight with the lift (elevator)…unfortunately the lift won. It is always a bit harder taking care of those who already live in my heart.

I always try to be honest with each of you. I am certain that I was supposed to return here this year even after mom’s passing, but it has definitely been harder. Although the joys are there, they are muted somehow…I can’t dance to the African worship music, the patients’ smiles wrap around my heart but there have been so many days when I could barely smile in return, I have been quieter, I have cried more. And yet, there has been such a peace and I have so clearly seen God’s hand on this time. The joys ARE there, even if they are muted. There IS laughter and love…just a bit quieter than usual. The work HAS been a blessing, just a bit harder to see.

What’s next??? Well…I’m coming home in mid-June. I’ll be home for about six months. The ship will be sailing to South Africa in August where it will go into dry dock for engine replacement. (They have to cut a big hole in the side of the ship to take out the old engines and place the new ones). Because of this, there will be limited medical outreach (eyes only) and so I will come home and work for a time. When I first get home, I will be heading to Amy and Sam’s wedding in Chicago. After that, I will likely be in Texas working. I look forward to seeing you all at home and sharing some time with you.

This work is just as much yours as it is mine and it is all for His glory. I could not be here serving if it weren’t for my gracious financial and prayer supporters. I pray that this work will bless you as well. You are part of each patient’s story. I am only the hands. Thank you, for myself and those who cannot say thank you.

discovered

discovery canada has a program called mighty ships. the africa mercy is going to be featured on it sometime in june. you can check out the blurb about it here.

the other end of the hall

b/c i am a picu nurse, i spend most of my time in "d-ward" where our high-acuity patients stay. but there has been a little one here down the other way in "a-ward" who has a beautiful story that you should hear. however, since i am rarely down there, her story is best shared by one who loved on her daily, ali. the posts from ali's blog are below.

aissa's intro
aissa's progress
aissa and lub
aissa's beauty

hope you enjoy aissa's stories through ali's words

kenya

well, although it is quite out of order, i wanted to tell you about my trip to kenya over Easter weekend. i went to kenya to visit a mission hospital and stayed with a surgeon (who i met on the ship in liberia) and his family. i went over Easter weekend b/c i was able to travel to and from togo with the ship's academy teachers who were attending an international Christian educators conference in rift valley.

we arrived into nairobi early thursday morning and i caught a taxi into the city and met up with a family traveling out to the mission hospital (tenwek) about 3 hours west of nairobi. once we arrived in tenwek, i met up with jason (the surgeon) and his wife heather and daughters anna and abi who welcomed me graciously into their home for the next few days. during the next few days i got to experience no power for the first day (black and silent!), a Passover seder, touring the mission hospital and getting to see a bit of how things work in country (as opposed to on a ship in port in the country), cuddles from the kids, watching the kids have an Easter egg hunt, meeting a chameleon and just spending some time with jason and his family. it was very nice. kenya (at least where they live) is quite different from the west african countries i've been in so far. the elevation is much higher (made climbing stairs a bit difficult for someone used to living at sea level) and it is green and cooler. and somehow i managed to take no photos at all of my time visiting the faders in kenya so no pics to share here.

the last night i was in kenya, i traveled via a matato (african 12 passenger bus generally with more than 12 passengers) the three hours back to nairobi and then spent an hour trying to find the mission house i wanted to stay in. one thing about the african culture, they really do want to help you and don't want to offend you so if you ask a question, you will get an answer whether or not it is the right one. several "helpful" people later, i realized there was no way i was finding the correct matato to get to the street i needed and just asked the next taxi driver to take me to a safe, inexpensive hotel. i enjoyed some african food that night and then a short night before heading to the airport and back to the ship.

i enjoyed my time with the teachers in the travels and visiting with the faders. it was interesting to see a bit of how hospitals work in country. although i eventually would like to work in country at some point (which country? when? not yet answered), i realized after this visit, i am not quite to that point yet...

next...t.i.a. (coming soon)

slipping away

our little "miracle" baby obre slipped away from his broken body into the arms of Jesus on friday. part of me wants to question God at why the miracle a few weeks earlier if He was planning a Home-going even then. part of me was very selfishly glad i wasn't on shift when he slipped away. part of me could rejoice that obre's healing was eternal and not just temporal while part of me was heart-broken for mom...who watched and cheered marius' triumphal entry the other day even as obre was slipping away. days like these are rough...we have to trust in the Soveignty of the Father and yet our hearts cry out and break within us. please pray for Obre's family. and those of us who had to say another goodbye.

sounds of silence

just now, i am sitting in the midship's lounge during morning tea time. i can hear multiple conversations going on as well as the steaming of milk for a latte and in the background the ever-present sound of the generator. last weekend, however, a few friends and i were able to get away and experience some "silence".

we (sarah, miriam, amy, sam, ben and i) rode up kpalime (about a 3 hour trip from the ship) and checked into our hotel. the one i called with a french translator to book 2 rooms in...one 2 person room for the boys, one 4 person room for the girls. the manager had no idea we were coming (typical africa). the rooms were not big enough for 4 people so we split 3/3 instead with the boys graciously offering to take mattresses on the floor so the girls wouldn't have to. no sound of a generator here. just stillness. we got back into the van and met up with a group from the ship staying across the street and drove up to a waterfall. a rainstorm blew in while we were driving up and the wind was rushing through the trees. not really silence i guess but not 400 people trying to hold conversations at the same time. we hiked down the mountain to the waterfall in the rain and went swimming (cold!). when we arrived back to the hotel later it was to find that the power was out, more silence, and they were using tea lights in the corridor. thankfully, the water was running when we returned and we could shower (not so much the next morning). about halfway through our candle-lit time sitting at the dinner table, the power came back on. we played games until late and then crawled into our beds with only the sound of the fan to accompany our sleep. somewhere during the night, we lost this sound as the power went out again. the silence was then only disturbed in the morning by the hotel staff sweeping the walkways...and b/c of the previous silence, this was very loud indeed. after doing a sterile dressing change on sam's finger while sitting on the porch of the hotel, we wandered around the village's red, dusty roads exploring. we ate some fan ice (frozen milk/juice in plastic packets) sitting outside the fan ice building, spending an hour or so haggling over football (soccer) shirts in the market, passing a very ornate church building, and listening as a man tried to convince ben and i he would either "take us to a place where the fish would come to us" or "take us to a place and offer us as a sacrifice to the fish gods" and then finally piling back into the van to return home. even the van trip was one of those sounds of silence moments...good friends who've spent a good time together and can now just sit in each others' company with only a few words spoken here and there.

above photos...me under the waterfall, group shot in front of the waterfall, us in front of the fan ice building (minus ben) and our hotel courtyard

triumphal entry

my last post was asking you to pray for marius (and mom chantal)
marius had a rocky week. he went back to surgery the same night as his lip repair and received a trach b/c he was still having trouble with his lungs being clamped down made worse by getting blood clots in his breathing tube. by day one post-op, we had him off the breathing machine but then we had to wait on his little stressed body to recover in order to get the trach out. first attempt...failed miserably. second attempt a couple days later...ok but not great and we ended up putting it back in 12 hours later. third attempt...he did it!

today, we removed his central line and the tracheal flap suture and moved him from the ICU to the ward. mom chantal carried him down the hallway from ICU to A-ward and the moment we stepped out of ICU, a praise song spilled from her lips. she walked the entire way singing praise and then into A-ward where she knelt by his bed and lifted him up praising God in song and then prayer. (a translator told me she was praising God...this was one thing i didn't need interpretation of!) it was a beautiful moment and tears of joy were falling. =)

well done my little rockstar and more importantly, thank You Father for Your touch on him.

another day in paradise...well, maybe not so much

Today started out as a fairly easy shift. One pre-op, one six days out from surgery and one here a day too early for surgery so not even pre-op yet patient. Not a heavy load at all. Down in A-ward, my little rockstar, Marius, was going to surgery to have his bilateral cleft lip repaired. Marius, my rockstar because in his first week of the infant feeding program he never gained less than 100 grams of weight a day. Chantal, his mom, who taught a bunch of nurses how to dance one morning after church. Mid-morning, we got a call into D-ward/ICU that D-11 wasn’t going to be going to surgery today b/c their first case wasn’t doing well…wait a minute, their first case was Marius…what?!?!?

Marius didn’t do well in surgery. He came back to us on the vent and we spent the next 3 hours working on him to get him some sort of stabilized. My shift ended an hour into that 3 hours but there was no leaving Marius. When he finally was a bit better, I went to find Chantal and pray with her and talk with her about what was going on. One of the other nurses said “Natalie, I’m sorry you always seem to get the bad ones.” But really, THIS is (or at least used to be) my normal. I work in a PICU at home and having a child with respiratory distress is more normal than having one without it. It doesn’t mean it is easier for me or that it hurts my heart any less to see a child hurting, but this is my normal. And if my being there means someone else doesn’t have to watch a child hurt, then that is what I accept from my Father’s hand, relying on His strength. (ok, now that just sounds sanctimonious but no idea how to really say what I want)

Anyways, all this to say, please pray for Marius and his mom Chantal…pray for healing of his little body, the lungs fighting so hard for air, pray for peace to cover and fill mom, pray for wisdom and strength for those of us who care for them.

trusting in miracles

Before I ever got to work on Tuesday night, I knew I was in for a busy night. I had been called down earlier to help get Obre settled on CPAP (a way that we can provide a bit of pressure and oxygen to the lungs). Obre has a bilateral cleft lip and palate and earlier had aspirated (inhaled) some formula into his lungs and now had an aspiration pneumonia. So, I came to work knowing I would have him and that his very underweight body (he's 4 months old and weighs 3 kg or 6 1/2 lbs) would not help his healing from the pneumonia. I was prepared for busyness. I had no idea, though, what the night really had in store for me, for him.

I got report from the evening shift nurse and started off with my regular work. Safety equipment at bedside, check. Code sheet at bedside, no. Complete code sheet, check. Now on to Obre...full assessment, check. Even with the CPAP, Obre's body was still working fairly hard. The muscles around his ribcage were pulling in harder in order to try and help his breathing, his oxygen level was in the 90's but on 60% oxygen and he was requiring help in the form of CPAP. At 11pm, Obre's oxygen levels started falling and I was having to move his jaw forward every couple of minutes to keep his oxygen up. Then I tried going up on his oxygen thru the CPAP. Everything worked for a few seconds and then he would start drifting down on his sats again. So, let's adjust his mask. At this point, Jenny, the other ICU nurse starts helping and ends up stuck for the next while with me. After 20 minutes of adjustments here and there and Obre just not settling, we call down the anesthetist Fotius. More adjustments, more work, no improvement after 20 more minutes. At home, at this point, we would have intubated (put in a breathing tube and placed on a ventilator), no questions. But, with our limited resources and his very malnourished body, this was not a decision without risk to him. So, we called Dr. Gary, the surgeon to see what he thought. And thus ensued another 40 minutes of working with Obre's body working harder and harder. His retractions were now severe, his oxygen level averaging between 60-80, his heart rate in the 200's, his breathing rate in the 80s.

At 1220am, we decided to intubate. As Jenny and I drew up medications and gathered supplies, it got quiet over by the bed...we looked over to see Dr. Gary and Fotius were praying. Jenny and I came up as the prayer was finishing and Fotius moved the CPAP mask off to just beside Obre's face. And, his oxygen level went up and his heart rate came down and his breathing rate came down and his retractions came back to mild. And we just watched for a minute and Obre didn't need intubation...in fact, we didn't even put him back on CPAP, we put him on just a simple face mask (oxygen without pressure). This is 5 minutes after the decision to intubate! We are doing less than we were before! I couldn't, at that point, call it what it was but as the night progressed and I just watched my baby in awe move closer towards normal vitals signs and his work of breathing settle even more, my mind whispered (a bit in disbelief) while my heart shouted in praise....MIRACLE! Jenny and I kept saying we can't believe it. At one point, Obre's vital signs actually dropped into the normal range and I started hovering even more (all PALS trained nurses know a pediatric body at stress can go for a while but vital signs dropping may actually by an ominous sign). But no, Obre was just getting more and more settled.

The night ended with me giving report and Jenny and I continuing to say we couldn't believe it but now quite willing to call it what it was...a miracle.

I went home and was walking thru the night again in my head. When I thought about getting concerned when his vital signs dropped to normal, it was if the Holy Spirit nudged me and said, "you didn't trust Me to finish the miracle." And it is true, I didn't trust despite what I had seen. Dr. Gary and I talked about a bit the next night and he said if that was the case, "he didn't fully trust it either because he wasn't sure we hadn't done it later without calling him down again." He also talked about feeling the peace settle as they prayed.

This night, what I saw, it was nothing less than miraculous, amazing. I am thankful the Father healed Obre. I am even more thankful that He let me see it. It was beautiful.

party time!

a note from the orphanage director...

"the grand father is already organising a party for their return because he is so happy. When François was born he was considered as a wizard by the whole village, he said." now he is whole and can go home!

a brightly wrapped package with a bow on top...or why i'm here.

I met Francois and his mama Pierrette on the dock of Togo the day we arrived in port…well, really I met him via email on the Monday before we arrived in Togo. I received an email that had been a series of emails about a little boy named Francois who had a cleft lip and palate and wasn’t doing well. Could I possibly see him as soon as we arrived? Of course! While everyone else was busy watching us come into port, I was busy unpacking boxes in the wards trying to find everything I might need…baby scale, infant formula, rice cereal, medicine cups, sterile water bottle, tape measure, stethoscope (haven’t used that in about 3 months, now, where did I put it?!?!), etc. I was ready to meet Francois. He and his mama and grandma arrived on the dock about 3 hours after we did with a nurse from a Benin orphanage. Mama looked overwhelmed by the amount of people who wanted to cuddle her broken baby. Grandma looked on fiercely protective.
We drove over to the team house where I weighed and measured Francois and took a history on him. Most babies with clefts are “throw-away” babies here b/c they are considered to be cursed. His mama had put him in an orphanage rather than throw him away but he wasn’t “her” baby. Most babies with clefts also nurse very badly and end up quite malnourished. And Francois was quite underweight. I called him my little chicken baby—nothing but skin and bones. When I did the math to see how much he needed to eat to catch up to where he should be, my numbers were so high I thought I had done the math wrong! So, that day I began teaching and sharing the love of Christ with mama and Francois. I taught her how to make clean water and mix formula. I taught her that cleft lips/palates happen all over the world even where people don’t practice cursing to encourage her that it wasn’t her fault and her baby wasn’t cursed. I gave them formula. I cuddled with him. I prayed with them. Every three to four days I would visit the three Beninois family members staying in a house full of yovo’s. His weight loss at first was a sign to change the formula. And three days later, his weight gain was a victory—for him, for mom, for grandma, even for me. Pierrette (mama) rarely interacted but watched everything with large eyes seeing more than I will know.
Every time I saw Francois after that, he had gained weight. Victory! He began to have a little pudge to his cheeks. And sooner than I thought possible, I was able to send him to our surgeon to be screened and he was put on the surgery schedule. Because of the Togolese elections, we admitted Francois to the hospital about a week before his surgery. Everyone who came in commented on his fat cheeks. (fat is a compliment here). And mama was watching and starting to snuggle with Francois and smiling at the gestures that indicated he was fat. We told her she was not to allow him out of her sight (although the norm in the West, not so much here and we wanted her to have every opportunity to bond with her baby). The day the nurses came to weigh him and tried to walk away, she said no and chased after them. Normal mother behavior—victory!!!!
His surgery date came around quickly and I headed down to the wards to check on Pierrette. She was anxious and so we chatted about everything and nothing. I went to the Recovery Room to see if he was there yet and I heard a baby cry and my heart leapt into my throat…he’s out! I went back to get Pierrette and walk her down to see her baby now made whole. Her face when she saw him…like she just couldn’t believe it….her lips quivering and her eyes bright with unshed tears and she lifted her arms in a gesture of praise. His surgeon, Dr. Gary, was sitting on the stretcher across from her along with our charge nurse, Ali (read her stories here…addictive), both looking on with joy. And I thought, if I could package this moment, this is why I’m here. This moment.
Mama Pierrette put the bow on the package for me today. I was down in the wards with Francois tucked into my arms and talking to mom about going home soon. “Francois is too small for his palate surgery right now. We will send you home to Benin until later on. Have you thought about going home? Will you want to have Francois back at the orphanage or will you take him home with you?” And Pierrette ducked her head shyly and with a faint smile whispered, “I want to take him home.” Victory!!!!!! That is the bow on top of the package.
The pictures above are Francois at his first visit, Francois right before discharge and mama Pierrette and Francois
ps. in a little over 3 weeks, he went from 2.4 kg (5.3 lbs) to 3.8 kg (8.3 lbs) =)

call me ishmael...

i almost didn't publish this post. THEN, i managed to post it with only a title. but now, i will try to share the words of my heart.

call me ishmael...seriously, call me ishmael. the name is of Biblical origin and it means "God hears". it is the name God gives to hagar to name her son after they have been cast away. and she worships God and calls Him the "God who sees me" or "El Roi". two attributes of God in a very short passage. two names that i am clinging to right now.

this last year has been one of the roughest years of my life...being far from home and yet at home on a ship in west africa. separated from family and friends and yet surrounded by family and friends. all at the same time. and the many phone calls that would spark a fist of dread in my heart...is this the phone call about mom? the up and down roller-coaster ride of this last year as her health failed. saying goodbyes to so many people who "invaded" my life and heart. or at least "until next time". but knowing i was blessed to have so many invaders that deeply touched me. and the work that tears at my heart daily even though there is a joy as well.

so, what does that have to do with ishmael? well, in all this, though i KNOW that my Father in Heaven has not walked away or stopped listening to me, He has chosen to be silent towards me right now. and so my prayers feel like they maybe reach the ceiling (or deck-head) and He doesn't speak to me and His arms feel intangible. and so i cling to the name of God as the "God who sees" and hope that i am ishmael "God hears". i am thankful for the amazing people He puts in my life to be His ears and arms when He seems silent.

there is so much joy as well in the day-to-day (francois' story coming soon). but i wanted to share a bit of the struggle as well.

first days in togo

i'm going to work backwards from tonight to our arrival 2 weeks ago in togo.

tonight...it is the first night the wards are open in the hospital. and i am here, in the middle of the night, listening to the generator hum which is just a bit louder here than in my cabin. listening to the patients sleeping just a few feet away. talking with my fellow nurse and day volunteer who both have english as second or third languages. trying to fill the hours of a long night with very little nursing...it is good to be back. a friend asked me on tuesday if i was ready for the busy-ness that would begin today and not end for the next 6 months...he asked a bit sarcastically. i replied yes, without a doubt. although i have enjoyed the break from the work, this is what God has given me and called me to. i have missed snuggling with my little brown children and babies and having chats with moms through translators and seeing joy dawning on faces which previously bore marks of shame, distrust and fear. so, yes, i am ready!

friday night we hosted a hospital open house for the rest of the crew who work elsewhere on the ship and may not have a clue about life/work in the hospital. crew members could learn to stitch or start IV's (not on real people!) or "operate" on a stuffed monkey or play nurse for a shift and have to complete nursing duties on recalcitrant patients (played by nurses of course! nice to be on the giving end sometimes ;-)hehe). it was a fun night. jens, our carpenter, is almost ready to be a pediatric nurse as he wrestled his "patient" into submission and gave her pills and took her temperature!

thursday night we held a medical reception involving the medical community of togo from the ministry of health to local surgeons, doctors, nurses, hospital directors, and more. it was a nice evening and allowed us to start developing relationships with those who we will work with as well as leaving the work in their hands as we sail away in august.

arrival wednesday until thursday saw the nurses busy unpacking, cleaning and setting up the wards. it is a lot of work to pack up, it is just as much to unpack. and we have a handful of "old" nurses who know where things go and a lot of new nurses who are trying to figure out what we meant when we said this goes in "a" ward or take that to the pilot's entrance. what?!?!? but we had fun with the work as always when you get a bunch of nurses together. crazy hats, dance parties to liven up the work, prayer, seeing how many nurses fit in a small space. and all of it being filmed by a canadian film crew who are filming what goes on in this ship of ours for an episode of "mighty ships" on discovery channel of canada. yep, i'm gonna be famous!?!??! well, not really but i may be on tv. =)

and the day of arrival. we arrived in togo to the sight of part of our land based team coming out on the tug boat that was to assist us into our berth. and as we neared the dock which will be our home these next many months, a band was playing and people were shouting and waving. the band and group of people walked down the dock, pacing us as we moved into our berth. at our berth was another band playing traditional african music to welcome us in. the gangway was let down quickly and a welcoming ceremony was held. it was hot. but it is good to be back.

february 2010 newsletter

February 2010

Dear Family and Friends,

I hope this letter/email finds each of you well. I was appalled to realize that my last newsletter has been so long ago. I apologize that I have not been better about letting each of you know how things are going here. (an upfront disclaimer…the photos on here today are from fellow crew members—the dolphins and patient photos are from ali and the sunset on the ocean from ryan)

These last few months have been a time of goodbyes, a time of rest, a time of refreshment, a time of sorrow, a time of joy, and now, it is a time of work. The outreach to Benin finished in late November 2009 and that began my time of goodbyes. Goodbye to Benin, goodbye to the friends who left as the outreach came to a close, goodbye to patients and day volunteers who had touched my life. Although there was sadness in the goodbyes, there was also joy at so many who had touched my life over the last many months. The ship sailed in early December to Tenerife, Canary Islands, Spain where we would dock for 2 months to complete maintenance and enjoy the holidays.

I was able to go home a few days after arriving to Tenerife in order to spend time with family and friends. Despite some struggles getting home due to weather, I did make it home (4 days late). I made it back to Texas just in time to say another goodbye. Goodbye to my mother who went Home to Jesus on the 26th of December. It was bittersweet—knowing she wasn’t hurting anymore, knowing she was gone. We (my brother, sister-in-law and myself) were able to clearly see and feel God’s hand upon us during this time of sorrow—to feel His peace and comfort in His own touch as well as those of family and friends.

In spite of the sorrow, the time at home was also a time of refreshment and rest. I was able to visit with many friends and family, to share some of the work God has allowed me to be part of with my home church, and to just rest. It was a time of joy for me.

And now, it is a time of work. I returned to the ship in late January shortly before we sailed to Togo. The work was fairly light upon returning and during sailing, but we hit the ground running here in Togo. In addition to being a ward nurse, I have added a couple of titles to my work here on the ship. I am now the Pediatric Coordinator as well as the Infant Feeding Program Coordinator. There was an infant waiting on the dock for me when we arrived to the ship so I was one of the few who were cleared by immigration to go down on the dock immediately. But, as we are back in Africa, my infant didn’t show up for several more hours. After arriving to Togo, the nurses immediately began cleaning the hospital and preparing for the patients. So I joined in for a few hours until it was time to go visit my baby and get him into the Infant Feeding Program. We continue to clean and set up the hospital and I will continue to check on my baby every couple of days until the hospital opens for patients on the 24th with first surgeries set for the 25th. It is good to be back at work.

This work is just as much yours as it is mine and it is all for His glory. I could not be here serving if it weren’t for my gracious financial and prayer supporters. I pray that this work will bless you as well. You are part of each patient’s story. I am only the hands. Thank you, for myself and those who cannot say thank you.

an ode to milk

milk
you are so creamy and white
although some add strawberry or chocolate
you froth and foam when heated
whole you are so full of taste
but you are healthy at 1-2%
and like water when skim
in all your forms so tasty
milk, please keep me from the evils of uht
alas, i must go and leave milk behind
and return to the place of milch
i will miss you milk

=)

Mom

i'm going to borrow a line out of one of my fave books..."the place she stood in my heart is now empty."

Carolyn E. Barnes was born in Lubbock, Texas on 9 January 1950. She went home to be with Jesus on 26 December 2009. I got to the hospital just in time to say goodbye. My mom was one of the most amazing people I know. Sure, she did things that as a child embarrassed me and as an adult just made me shake my head and she had that famous Whitten temper, but she was amazing. She had such a servant's heart...always looking to make sure people were comfortable and had what they needed even at cost to her own comfort and needs. She had a beautiful smile. She enjoyed music...singing, playing the piano, even writing her own music (although what became of it I don't know). She was very creative in general...painting, quilting, sewing, writing. She was my biggest cheerleader...she always encouraged me to reach for the stars and applauded me when I reached them and comforted me when I didn't. She loved her family and friends so much...they were her joy (and heartbreak) until her last breath. Her grandkids could bring a smile no matter how much pain she was in.

She was one of the bravest and strongest people I know. Her heart condition caused her so much pain and yet she fought to live every moment to the fullest.

She loved Jesus. He was definitely her all in all. She walked in His strength and wisdom and spent hours with Him in prayer, not just for herself to know Him more but petitioning Him for the needs and wants of her family and friends. She wanted everyone to know Him (and this desire made it a little easier to let her "baby" go off to the wilds of Africa so that He might be known).

I was very blessed to call her Mom. I never doubted that I was loved growing up. And as I grew to adulthood, she became my friend. She will be missed.

thank you for all your prayers for my mom in her illness and my family in this time of saying goodbye.