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.