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.