Mercy Ship Christmas

Christmas morning outside my door!

What a unique Christmas!  If I’m being totally honest, it was the hardest day I’ve had here yet, dealing with homesickness.  Christmas was celebrated all day on the ship, much different than our Thanksgiving celebration.  I don’t think I was quite prepared for all the love and food and celebrating amongst everyone on the ship.   It started with a light, but beautiful pastry breakfast spread with coffee and tea, mid morning brunch with our dining area decorated and complete with table cloths and settings and then dinner if you could handle any more food.  I was honestly prepared to sort of celebrate with a few friends then maybe hibernate and watch a Christmas movie in my PJ’s sent from home.  My day looked much different than that.

My nephew looking studly

My sister Facetimed me at midnight in Madagascar (still the 24^th in VA), in time for me to watch our church service at home.  I was able to watch my niece and nephew perform their songs at the front of the stage, just like I was there.  It was totally unplanned, I was literally in bed about to turn my light off when I saw my sister calling.  I woke up the next morning and was able to Facetime home while they were still on Christmas Eve, shared my first cup of coffee for the morning with them, just like we would’ve on Christmas day.  It was a sweet conversation, left my heart so full, but torn.  It was hard to embrace my Mercy Ship family here when all I wanted to do was embrace my family and friends in Virginia.  We went to church in the community that morning, and I struggled through the whole thing; tears and frustration with myself for not appreciating this opportunity more.

Never witnessed a nativity like this one; guns, masks and swords were involved.

Just part of our brunch spread

It helped to come back and have Christmas brunch with friends, then watch The Nativity movie with my roommate; it felt a little more normal.  Then later that night we had “open cabins” where several families and couples keep their cabin doors open for visitors and treats and conversation.  This also made Christmas feel a little more normal because it was exactly what I would’ve done with my family around a fire in the evening; share desserts and laughs and stories from the day.

The day after Christmas I went on a weekend trip with a few friends.  We traveled South and stayed in some bungalows a few hours away at a huge lake, slept in mosquito nets, fell asleep to the sound of Malagasy bugs and birds.  We hiked and laid on the shore, explored as much around the lake as we could, made a few friends, star gazed and just enjoyed each other’s company.  We had many laughs, deep conversations, and felt rejuvenated to come back to the ship.

It has been hard not working as a nurse for the last two weeks, really hard.  I’ve almost been tempted to call it boredom, but that’s also my pride weaseling its way to the surface.  I’ve needed several reality checks and humbling prayer times with the Lord.  It’s also hard because I enjoy being busy, it’s hard to have down time when I don’t want it.  I like being with patients and having a full hospital and talking to our day crew and feel like my days have purpose.  I need frequent reminders that “purpose” in my head doesn’t always look like the same purpose the Lord has in mind, and His is always better.  So, I don’t want to wish this time away, but I definitely need to find balance. 

What I have come away with from this Christmas season is that I love my family a whole lot, and they love me too.  They blessed me above and beyond anything I could ever hope to offer them.  Then I introspect and realize the Lord continues to do the same thing.  God has enjoyed blessing me abundantly and frequently here; through my patients, friends, roommate, day crew, coffee, clothes from the boutique, prayer time, weekend trips…etc,  and I am so quick to doubt that His blessings will stop just because I feel like my time here has lacked purpose during the holiday season.  This is a lie, and Psalm 51 has been a huge help to me; “Surely you desire truth in the inner parts; you teach me wisdom in the inmost place…cleanse me with hyssop and I will be clean; wash me and I will be whiter than snow…restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit to sustain me.”

 These several verses have made a deep impact in my heart.  My soul clings to these promises that the Lord wants the truth of my heart, both sinful and righteous thoughts.  I believe He wants these truths exposed so that I can rejoice in them and/or have the Lord speak wisdom into these thoughts.  Big or small sins, the Lord has the capacity to cleanse.  I want to continue through this dry season on the ship in full faith and confidence that because I have sought the Lord He will make straight my heart, cleanse what is not good and direct me where I have strayed.  I also believe the Lord will grant a willing spirit to sustain me.  Where I have lost my luster for the Kingdom or my role here, God can restore and renew and sustain.  He's left me with greater hope today than I have had over the past few days.  He is so good.

Education full circle

Leading up to Christmas has been difficult.  Shifts are waning in the hospital as the census goes down.  There are substantially fewer people on the ship, as the mass exodus occurred on the 20^th when many crew members left before Christmas. It’s been tough, it doesn’t really feel like Christmas, but there are decorations everywhere.  Sort of feels like we’re limbo.

Last week I worked with our day crew from B ward, all the Malagasy workers that interpret and help in the hospital.  Along with several other nurses, we taught on different subjects relating to our work, in hopes of equipping them with more knowledge and understanding of what we do and why we do it.  The week was fantastic; they gleaned so much from our presentations despite some difficult medical terminology.  In between lectures we sang, danced, played games and got to share our cultures in each of these areas respectively.

They had some awesome shadow puppets for comic relief

On the first day of teaching we went around and said a few things about ourselves and what our favorite experience has been in B ward thus far.  One of our day crew stood and said “I enjoy acting silly and making funny noises for the kids because if I make them smile or laugh, it means they forgot about the pain or itching for just a few moments.”  The nurses all just looked at each other stunned! Who says that stuff?!

This same day crew worker floored me again.  We have a patient in the ward with some developmental delays, nothing diagnosed and he is relatively high functioning, but talking with the crew physician it is unlikely congenital.  His delays could possibly be from trauma as an infant. 

I’ve seen this day crew working with this patient quite often.  Whenever he is on shift, he gravitates toward this child.  Lately, the patient has been having some behavioral outbursts or tantrums, making care challenging.  This worker has turned it up a notch, singing, dancing, holding his hand, playing…etc.  One day at lunch I asked him about why he is so drawn to this one patient- I was also fishing because I had an interest to see how the Malagasy people view the developmentally delayed (Shout out to my JH people!).

B Ward Bearcubs day crew!!

He described how he had met this patient, Norbert, out in the community during screening.  Norbert lives with his grandmother, both his mother and father died several years ago, and now it’s only him and grandma.  Norbert’s story touched him, and he wants to make this time in the hospital as easy as possible for this boy because of everything he’s been through.  He said, “It’s like I’ve adopted him as my son, because I love him like he was my son.”

Tears started welling up in my eyes as this adult Malagasy man was pouring his heart out to me about a boy he barely knew, but felt so much loyalty for. 

The next time I worked in the hospital, Niry was on shift.  The patient had been having some struggles with tantrums and crying loudly, and Niry devoted the whole shift to entertaining this boy.  Nursing care has been very minimal, as surgeries have ended for the year, so day crew and nurses have ample time to play games, sing songs and dance.   I watched as Niry sat at the end of Norbert’s bed, another day crew on the guitar, and dramatically sang a Malagasy love song to Norbert. His theatrics and comical gestures entertained the entire ward, but Niry was only concerned about making this one boy feel special.  It was love in its purest form.

What a beautiful picture to witness when believers of the church use their Spirit-given gifts and talents to further the Kingdom.  Niry does not dwell on what he cannot do for this boy, like give him back his parents or take away his disabilities and challenges, but instead gives him everything he does have, which is love and joy in performing (Niry is an amazing dancer in Madagascar).

It’s easy to get wrapped up in what I don’t have this season: my family, friends from VA, a Christmas tree and a warm fire, peppermint hot chocolate and scarves or my puppy, but then I think about Niry’s example.  When I start to feel sorry for myself, I remember our kids in the wards that don’t get to go home for Christmas, I remember my gift of healing and creativity that enjoys coloring and crafting with these kids, I remember my enjoyment of serving and investing in the people with whom I’m surrounded, I remember the people who are given the bad news that we cannot help them.  It’s a constant temptation to look at the things I don’t have, but Niry provided what it looks like to be called higher.  If my brother can do it, there’s hope for me as well. 

Hopital Be and the boy I couldn’t stop staring at

I’ve had the privilege of working with the local nurse education program with Mercy Ships. We spend time alternating shadow shifts with nurses at the local hospital, Hopital Be, and the local nurses shadowing us on our wards.  We provide education and teaching presentations after our shifts in hopes of improving their nursing skills and knowledge, and encourage them to share their knowledge with others. 

This past week we were on the Medical/Surgical ward, patients of all ages were there. Many motor vehicle accidents, appendicitis, burns, anemia, children, adults… practically anything.

During rounds with the nurses and doctors, we came to a boy with his papa.  Sitting in bed was a young child, from far away it looked like severe malnutrition resulting in an oversized, swollen belly, only it wasn’t his belly that was large, it was his shoulder.  He had a tumor on his shoulder the size of a basketball.  The doctors deliberated and said they would have to get back to the family about what they were going to do.  It was likely malignant, his body was wasting away, you could see vessels within the tumor, he could barely sit up, it was probably affecting his breathing in some way.   I’ve never seen anything like it. We walked away and proceeded to the next patient.

That night I read a friend’s note from my going away journal, full of encouraging letters and scripture.  Reading one note, he said “Cry when your heart breaks. Be broken and mended by Jesus.”  My mind immediately went to remembering this boy.  I prayed for him immediately, my mind felt the gravity of how sick this boy was, and I did nothing to help him.  He’s practically the same age as my nephew, and I didn’t offer anything, I just stared at him. I thought of what I would do if my nephew was in his place. I felt sick thinking about it.

When we were all staring at him: doctors, nurses, other patients, Mercy Shippers... I can’t imagine what was going through his young mind: fear, sadness, hope, anguish, pain, exhaustion?  I’ll never know.  But I do know that I did nothing to alleviate fear or encourage hope.  I was one that stared at him along with everyone else, like vultures staring down their prey on the ground, unable to take their gaze away. 

Luckily, I did cry when my heart broke, and I prayed for a second chance, prayed to be able to go to Hopital Be and give this boy a balloon that said “Tia anao Jesosy” (Jesus loves you).  I wanted to touch him, his poor little swollen, tired, scared face, in hopes of restoring something to him that didn’t involve his tumor- this thing that defined the last several months of his life.  I didn’t want that to be his last impression of me; someone gaping at him, someone supposedly “able to help” but not even offering eye contact at his level.

The Lord did answer my prayer.  He led me to the balloon idea, led me to ask a friend to drive me, and she did.  I know it was all in the Lord’s hands whether he would be there or not.  I just had to go on faith and my conviction.  The Lord knew my heart behind it.

The next day I went back to the Medical/Surgical ward at Hopital Be in attempt to see the little 7- year old boy with a giant tumor to his right shoulder, swelling radiating to his face, extremities completely eaten away from this growth on his body. 

Driving there I started to get scared, but excited.  I was on a mission to set things right- the way I should have done things in the first place.  I sped walked through the dirty corridors in hopes of spotting this boy.  Searching the other side of the ward I ran into one of the local nurses I knew.  Through broken French and English I gathered that the boy had left.  Money was an issue.  He was gone.

I experienced my first let down in Madagascar. 

The wind was knocked out of me, but I said “thank you” and walked out.  What was I supposed to do with that?  He was gone, I was there ready and willing, but this boy was not.  I went home, knowing the Lord was going to have to do some work on my heart that night.

We watched Lord of the Rings Return of the King that night.  One of the scenes at the end of the movie stuck out to me more than normal.  Aragorn and the men of Gondor stand at the black gates trying to lure the remaining army of Mordor out so Frodo and Sam can have a safe passage through to Mount Doom.  Victory is impossible for the men of Gondor, but Aragorn gives his epic pre-battle speech.  The rest of the army perk up and rise to the challenge, ready to fight.  Aragorn softly declares “for Frodo” to the other members of the fellowship, and takes off running toward the massive opponent.  It’s the next people that charge out that stood out to me.  Merry and Pippin, the two hobbits, smallest and shortest beings present, probably worst skilled fighters present, so consumed by their allegiance to Frodo and the missions of the ring, yell and start running, separating themselves from the rest of the men who haven’t charged yet.

Merry and Pippin were small, but the voice of their heart was louder than their circumstances.  They lost all sight of their life and took off to accomplish what they believed would help their friend, somewhere in the backdrop of this last battle.  They had no guarantee of the end result; they had no idea if Frodo would even get into Mount Doom.  All they could do was fight their present battle without knowing the end result. 

Lord of the Rings. Video of final battle at the Black Gates

That is how I hope to follow the gospel.  Not knowing what progress or obstacles the gospel is facing in the background, if I feel so moved to act on behalf of someone I meet or have known for years, shame on me if I don’t do it with the same vigor as Merry and Pippin, being only consumed with allegiance to the hope that good will prevail and evil will fall.

I think I experienced a taste of that vigor when I went back to Hopital Be.  I was scared, but thrilled to be acting on behalf of the hope of advancing the gospel.  Showing up and realizing the boy went home, was like losing the immediate battle that was in front of me.  But I separated from the pack and ran with abandon, only holding on to the knowledge that I know who wins in the end. 

Mercy Ships Thanksgiving!

Since my last post, I’ve had a joyful time of giving Thanks on the Africa Mercy, celebrating Thanksgiving.  Mercy Ships usually celebrates a “one day- international Thanksgiving” for all nations and their respective holidays.  This year, that day just happened to fall on the American Thanksgiving.

I could not think of a better Thanksgiving away from home. My day started with day shift in the ward, mostly playing with the kiddos, since no surgeries were scheduled for the holiday.  Playing consisted of lots of belly laughs, joy that filled the room and sending a few kids home with straighter legs than when they arrived.

Right after my shift, I baked with a friend and we made apple chips to bring to our dockside dinner.  The more time I spend one on one with friends, the more I realize how high my spirits raise with more intimate conversation.  I love the silly jokes, the funny cooking mishaps, and how cooking together naturally fosters community.  Thank goodness for other foodies like me.

Dinner time came quickly. We finished our apple chips and went down to the dining room to make our plates, along with an additional separate plate of desserts, and headed out to the warehouse to share our meal.  We sat family style on picnic chairs, with long benches set up as our table, at least 30 feet long, filled with people.  Conversation was abundant, the Macy’s Day parade from 2013 was played on a projector, JMU Marching Royal Dukes made an appearance, where I gave my timely “JMU DUUUKES” cheer.  Corn hole was played, the ping pong table was active and competitive, and we played and enjoyed each other long into the evening.  My night ended with a family phone call, just after my family had eaten together.  As cliché as it will sound, I felt like Madagascar wasn’t halfway across the world for that short hour I got to talk to family.  The phone delay was a struggle, but comical at the same time. 

The food was delicious! 

Who am I to deserve to be so richly blessed, when so often I crumble under pressure and lose sight of my Holy God?  So many things I’ve realized I’m lacking from home: no Facetime, inability to easily receive packages, not my normal coffee, sparse wardrobe, doubt in my ability to be a nurse- and all have been abolished. The Lord has come into each of those things and gifted me.  Our internet has just been updated tenfold to the point we have Facebook online all day (instead of blocked off from 8A-6P to save bandwith), facetime is up and working, my family is going to be able to send a small care package through crew mail- instead of missing Christmas because they didn’t send something in time to arrive on a container, I bought a coffee press and have my own ground coffee, I’ve found warmer clothes in the ship boutique (all free), and just last night I got to act for one of my patients who needed several nursing interventions after his surgery. 

Each of those things was definitely hard to swallow when I realized I would have to go without them for 6 months.  I certainly didn’t cope gracefully.  But each of those things I can feel confident that if I didn’t have them and the subsequent rich blessings I have now, I would still be okay.  I could still be content because I’m here doing what I set out to do.  I have Jesus with me, moving and acting in me and the people around me.  He is becoming more of my portion. The fact that I get to have these comforts back, I will never understand.  His love continues to baffle me, but I’m thankful.

Other things I’m thankful for:

1. Overflowing joy in belly laughs
2. For friends and family who continue to include me in their lives though so many miles separate us
3. That Hallelujah and Hosanna are the same in English and Malagasy
4. For embracing emotions and the subsequent growth and enlightenment it brings. 

Night shift and speaking life

Time on the wards is so hearty for my soul.  I’ve just worked a string of night shifts, but even those were times of rich conversation getting to know our Malagasy Day Crew a little deeper, praying over children having issues with pain or itching, and becoming more aware of the spiritual warfare raging on our patients in the wards. 

I got to take care of one particular patient, she was from a different ward; she had a facial tumor removed, and they had to pull some creative moves to remove part of her cheek bone and replace it with a muscle from the top of her scalp.  After a 5 hour surgery, needless to say, she had a lot going on.  An extremely long incision, a tube running from her nose to her stomach so she could receive nutrition instead of eating and possibly harming her facial incision; she had one tube keeping her nasal passage open, and her poor face was still very swollen from surgery- even several days post op when I took care of her.

Working night shift with her, I had very minimal contact, since she slept for most of the night.  She remained in A ward, while I cared for the majority of my patients in B ward.  We kept a Day Crew interpreter in her room so that if she needed anything she could come fetch me.

Interacting with this patient brought me back to my medical/surgical days.  She had a lot going on, more so than the little orthopedic kids we have in the ward.  Meeting her at shift change, she was visibly downtrodden.   I could tell all the liquid feedings, nausea, vomitting, tubes and pain were wearing on her.  The eyes truly are the channel to the soul.  I had sympathy for the struggles and uncomfortable days and nights that probably felt like they would never end.  So most of the night looked like keeping up with her pain medication, moistening her nasal tube to keep it from getting crusty and stuck and administering her liquid tube feed in the morning. 

Courtesy of Mercy Ships Communications team

The morning came around and she had at least 6 medications due, all liquid antibiotics (the gross chalky kind you have to take as a kid) and pain medication.  Before I even started the tube feed, she had to retch, I cannot blame her, receiving liquid nutrition for 5 days straight along with gross medications (I’m sure she could taste when she burped) would take a toll on anyone, physically and mentally. Again, I could see the defeat in her poor swollen eyes.

Instead of starting her tube feed and leaving, I decided to stay in her ward and coach her through the last part of the morning I had with her.  So I gathered her meds, her tube feed and the interpreter and set to work.  Praise the Lord the Holy Spirit nudged me that morning not to rush off to my next task, because the time I got to sit with her was well spent.  I started her tube feed, told her I would go slow and split up her medications so she didn’t get them all at once; I told her I would try my best not to make her sick.  Then I decided/acted on my conviction to start a pep talk.  Through the interpreter I was able to tell her I could tell she was having a hard time, and that it was okay to have a hard time.  I told her it was okay to be frustrated, and that hungry is not a fun feeling (anyone that knows me knows I can empathize- I don't cope well with hunger at all).  I told her she was doing a good job keeping her incision clean and dry- she would dab it when it would start to ooze if she retched or saline would drip from her nasal packing.  I told her I know it feels like we made her face worse, but to just trust me and have patience.  She had waited years for someone or something to take care of this tumor in her face, and unfortunately it had to get worse before it could get better- sounds like our hearts before we trust the Lord, ehh?  I told her I thought her face was beautiful before and after her surgery.  And you know what?  She already had plans for when she was going home.  She just got married to her husband apparently, shortly before coming to get surgery, and for whatever reason they didn’t have a party or “reception-like” party after their wedding, so the first thing she gets to do when she gets home is celebrate! And what an appropriate thing to celebrate!  A new face and a new husband! 

While I did a lot of talking, I realized I not only spoke “true” things to her, but I spoke life.  I became very aware of what slowing down can do, what eye contact and genuine smiles can do, because I was rewarded with a smile before I left her ward that morning. 

Then today I read in Matthew  9:20-22 “Just then a woman who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years came up behind him [Jesus] and touched the edge of his cloak.  She said to herself, ‘If I only touch his cloak, I will be healed.’ Jesus turned and saw her...”

This woman with the bleeding is actually a side story when Jesus was on his way to a ruler’s house to check out his dead daughter.  But this “side-story” woman made it into the Holy Word of God.  This woman didn’t even want to be made known or acknowledged; she came up behind Jesus.  Her story could have been left out, ‘Sure, she touched his robes and was healed and slipped back into the crowd and left healed because of her faith.’   But she is included, and what did Jesus do?  He turned and saw her.  He saw this woman that had likely been neglected, shamed, embarrassed, outcasted, ignored, made to feel like nothing, and saw her.  The Messiah, stopped his pursuit to raise a dead girl to life- casual- in order to turn and see this woman who had probably not been “seen” or not wanted to be seen for 12 years. 

What an example we get to live by and how amazing that we get to strive for this type of interaction on Mercy Ships.  Jesus showed us the power in turning and seeing people.  Not just physically healing, but addressing the inner most part of the person, stopping, taking time, and lifting people out of the pit of feeling unworthy and making them feel human again.  

If I accomplished even an ounce of that with this woman, then what a victory for the Kingdom.

I am a nurse

Finally! It feels good to be able to say that again.  The time and experiences leading up to the hospital opening have been great and beneficial, but finally being able to do what I originally signed up for…it feels right.

That being said, there are many lessons that go into getting back into the nursing swing.  There’s a lot of new learning going on: learning the patient population, paper documentation, Malagasy phrases, where supplies are kept, how to slow down and play with the kids when my Western background is so task focused, relearning compassion in a place where the tendency IS NOT “how much can I abuse my nurse” but, “let me ask for bread and butter because I’m actually starving from traveling 1,000 km to seek help at Mercy Ship because I have nowhere else to turn for the infected burn on my head.”

I’m relearning how to put my trust back into my patients, giving them the benefit of the doubt, because they actually do tell the truth.

After only a week of nursing shifts, I’ve come to realize a struggle, and probably a lie, I am believing.  Yesterday I had a day off and went to the beach with a few people. I got caught up with myself in feeling bad for enjoying my time out.  I think the root of it is I don’t feel as though I am doing much with spreading the gospel to my patients.  I get very task oriented in the wards, but if I’m totally honest, I don’t know how to deliver the gospel here.  I’ve had thoughts of praying at their bedside before they go to sleep, using the Malagasy names for God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit.  Or I’ve thought of bringing a picture of my family to show them and segway into Jesus after that.  I feel like I’m not giving them the full story of Jesus, that I’m not doing this “calling” of mine, justice.  I struggle with being satisfied in doing my job well, and being satisfied in acting on the nudges I get from the Holy Spirit.  I struggle to realize this is a “big picture” story.  I know the whole burden of their salvation does not land on my shoulders.  I shouldn’t neglect or let pass up any opportunities to share Jesus, but not be defeated because I’m not shoving Jesus at them.  I think the biggest anxiety that has popped up is fast forwarding to when I’m leaving the ship, looking back and feeling like “what did I really accomplish” and feeling empty.

I really want to get my “works” to the forefront as something to show for being on Mercy Ships.  But it’s not clicking because it 1. It’s not scriptural; “by grace you have been saved…not by works so that no one can boast” and 2. Jesus says in Matthew 9:13 “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.”

So I struggle with the question “what does putting mercy at the forefront of this time look like?” I’m on Mercy Ships for Pete’s sake.  How or what does that look like here? How do I know if I’m on the right track?  I asked the Lord this question last night in the quiet back corner of our library- I was craving a quiet place in private with Him.  I looked up at the bookshelf in front of me and saw the “MacArthur Bible commentary” bible right in front of me. So I picked it up and started studying the phrase that I was stuck on in Matthew 9 “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.”  Jesus quoted this from Hosea 6; Israel had been broken and injured by the Lord because of their way of living, but the Lord promised to heal and bind up their wounds. God is in the business of reviving and restoring.  God just wants Israel to acknowledge Him, press on in acknowledging Him, have faith He will appear and not love Him like the morning mist or early dew that disappears (paraphrased Hosea 6:3-4).

Amongst several minutes of struggling I also turned to Psalm 51:16, 17 “You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.  The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.”

Then MacArthur said “Ritual without genuine repentance is useless.”

Then it clicked.

I am here because I grasp the enormity of the gift that is offered to me through Christ’s death.  I want nothing more than to live in a humble posture before the Lord, in complete submission with my life, my words and my actions in order that God’s glory be shown through my life and me as a vessel.

A life of repentance looks like this.  I’m standing, I have a huge rubber band strapped around my waist, connected to the world; connected to its lies, to my flesh that fights to cause me to sin.  Repentance is taking a step in the opposite direction of the world and toward God.  With each step, that rubber band gets tauter and threatens to drag me back toward the world, but walking with the Lord give me strength for each step.  Walking with Him, we already belong to Him, it’s just how tight am I willing the make that rubber band- repentance is a lifelong thing.  I slip sometimes, and that’s okay, but as followers, we will never snap back completely to the world, we can’t, the Holy Spirit acts as a wall, standing as a permanent barrier between us and who we used to be.  It’s recognizing when our feet are losing traction and realigning our eyes on our end goal.  As that band gets tighter, its pull toward the world becomes more and more noticeable, manifested through doubting God, looking to myself for control, becoming anxious when I look at the enormity of the task I have been faced with in Madagascar.   But the tauter the band gets, that means I am that much closer to the Lord than the world.  I know Him better than I know the world, I live in His presence instead of allowing the world’s voice to be louder.  It is that much more vital that my time with the Lord is set apart, that I pray with fervor and ask questions and remain in Scripture- all things the world influences me not to do. 

So I have recognized my feet threatening to slip, I have realigned my eyes not on my own feet, but the Lord.  I take heart in knowing the One who pilots me through places I don’t know how to navigate, and remain in a place of repentance before the Lord.  

The Lord timed a country briefing perfectly for last night, titled, "Living Internationally in Madagascar." Our speaker talked about living "incarnationally"; living in Madagascar as people who are doers and speakers of the Word, making the Word flesh.  She touched on the simplicity of what striving to love and be a part of this nation does for the people, and at the same time how our love, rooted in Christ is what speaks.  She specifically touched on the disadvantage of the "foray" type of evangelizing- a quick sudden attack of the gospel and expecting immediate transformation- exactly what I was believing I was supposed to be doing.

The Lord is speaking truth into this lie I have believed.  I have uttered it out loud to friends, so there has already been so much freedom.  But especially after our speaker last night, I feel settled. There are definitely times where a bold presentation of the gospel is warranted.  For me, living in Madagascar for 6 months, I want these people to learn I am their sister in Christ, not a foreigner come to fix them and leave.  Oh, the peace that surpasses all understanding.  I believe the Lord will do this.  His army is mobilizing and we are motivated.

A letter to Ifod and his mama and papa

A letter to Ifod and his Mama and Papa

I saw you in the line at screening.  I could tell you couldn't talk, your eyes wandered and your muscles were small and you didn't have control of them.  Your papa had you on his lap, fanning you in the hot sun.  You seemed uncomfortable, so I tried to help fan you with my paper as well.  The double teaming worked, you looked appeased.  I stroked your arm and asked your name.  I can only guess and mimic what your papa said.  I can call you Ifod, but I’ll rest in knowing your Father knows you perfectly by name.  Your eyes were wide, you furrowed your brow often.  Were you hungry? Did your belly hurt? Was it just too hot for your poor body lying against your papa?  I smiled at you, but you didn’t acknowledge me, I don’t know that you could.  And that’s okay, you didn’t have to. 

I left you in line not knowing I would see you again inside the gate, where our pre screened patients made it through.  Only, it was relayed that I wasn’t taking you to further screening, I was escorting you to our hospital chaplaincy for prayer.  We as Mercy Ships were unable to help you, but I’m thankful your mama and papa agreed to an opportunity to pray.

So as I met you and your family walking toward me, I asked your papa if I could carry you.  I wanted to give papa a rest.  I wanted his hands to be free not because you are the burden, but so that he could see his son in my arms and see someone else loving him that really didn’t know him at all.  I wanted to hold you because your papa deserved a pat on the back for the good job he has done.  He wanted to bring you to us to see if we could help you.  When we said “no,” he wanted to pursue what we DID have in abundance, which is prayer and love- and whether he knew it or not, this brings healing too.  I don’t know what kind of life you have lived, Ifod, but today you are interacting with people who love Jesus.  Your mama and papa deserve credit for bringing you here and walking further to receive prayer.  Ifod, that gives me hope to know your mama and papa have hope.  I can hold you during the minute walk it takes to meet with chaplaincy, and I can cuddle you and rub your back and tell you you are about to go talk to a God that loves you so much, and loves your mama and papa so much. 

But eventually, I do have to give you back.  I have to set you back down in your papa’s lap and leave you to pray.  But, Ifod, you’ve left something with me I don’t think I can forget.  You’ve left an impact that reminds me that all of this is too big for me.  I haven’t given you anything that will heal your frail little body.  I have no choice, but to give you over to our Father that knows and protects us in this life.  My prayer for you is that you have or will see and understand the Lord, Ifod; that He will reveal Himself to you in a very special way because you have parents that know Jesus and have not lost hope because we can’t fix you.  That gives me hope, Ifod, that I will get to meet you again someday where you will be able to acknowledge me.

Day crew and the local church

Day crew came and visited last Thursday for orientation on B ward. Our day crew is a group of Malagasy people, employed through Mercy Ships.  They are paid workers that are dispersed amongst several areas of the ship such as housekeeping, dining staff, chaplaincy, hospital wards as interpreters and extra helping hands…etc.  They will be our native help for the entire field service, so being able to start forming relationships and spending time with them was a treat.  We got to teach them, eat with them, spend time with them and learn from them; it was a joy to speak with each one.  One of our workers actually knows people who studied abroad from JMU (my alma mater) several years ago, and remembered their names!  Like, what?!  I was floored! This world is truly so small.

We asked each day crew to teach us something about Madagascar or their culture, or anything they wanted us to know about them.  So many wanted to stress the point that the Malagasy are kind and friendly; I have experienced that already and I've only been out in the community a handful of times.  I’m excited to see how they treat their fellow neighbors in the hospital. 

I am ready to love everybody.  I want to take them and all our patients as my own flock and have them know Jesus.  I have this vision of standing before them, but there is a rail separating us.  I’m trying to lean over the rail with arms stretched out as far as they can go, willing my arms to grow longer so I can touch those who are just out of reach.  I hope I stay excited about our day crew.  I cannot force my expectations, they are human too and have stories and struggles.  No matter what they contribute, they have already been loved by their Father and their is grace for their sins, just as there is grace for mine.  

We visited a local church this past weekend.  One of our hospital chaplaincy day crew recommended it and so, we went!  We encountered Jesus there.  The worship was nothing like the way we worship at my church in VA, but the Spirit was evident.  Children and adults were worshiping and dancing, just having a good ole time.  Some of the songs had English verses, so we could sing along to some of the music.  Someone sat behind us to translate the message, and from what I could glean, the pastor taught on the power of being a Christian and having the Spirit.  The first thing I wrote in my journal during that sermon was “These people believe they have power.”

One of the main roads in town

While I haven’t had many conversations with Malagasy Christians, I’m finding I have some preconceived notions I need to rebuke.  These people may be poor economically compared to what I come from, but their spirits aren’t poor.  They have excitement about Jesus.  Their spirits in Christ aren’t weak and lowly, they are active, and they come willing and expecting to meet Jesus.

During the service we had a time of praying with our neighbor, then one of the people with us from the ship shared a testimony on the power of forgiveness.  After this, they asked for the six of us members from Mercy Ships to come up to the front so THEY could pray for us!  As others bowed their heads, I kept my eyes open and watched some 50 Malagasy with outstretched arms, eyes closed, praying.  I could see the yearning in their faces. 

Some of the landscape we get to look at

I’ve had people pray over me before, but I’ve never had people pray over me in a different language and still feel the weight of the depth of their prayers.  I left that service with a deeper grasp of what we are doing here.  Mercy Ships is an answer to the Body of Christ’s prayers here in Toamasina.  We have come at the appointed time and that makes my responsibility here much more real.  I literally am a part of their answer.  I have been hand chosen by an omnipotent, sovereign God to walk in the works He has prepared in advance for me to do.  I realize I am a very small part in the Lord’s grand plan, but I can rest in knowing I’m where I’m supposed to be.  There are many other worldly questions and feelings that pop up, but God solidified, if He hadn’t done so already, this is His time, and we are all part of bringing His kingdom here.  I look forward to working and growing with the Church here.

Screening day

Screening for patients started Monday. HAPPY DAY, SO EXCITING!  Mercy Ships is doing screening a little different this year.  Instead of one massive screening day, they are seeing people every day for a month out in the community, and continually scheduling patients for the future surgeries we will do on the ship.

The hospital getting close to ready for patients!

Tuesday I got to participate on security team.  I had to put on my serious face at times and make sure people stayed in line or didn’t jump in and cut the 600 people that were already waiting.  I got to wear a neon orange vest and carry a radio and everything.

For preparation of screening day, I prayed through Romans 8, specifically the characteristics of the Holy Spirit and how how He empowers my life.  I prayed to desire the mind of the Spirit.  I am controlled by the Spirit because the Spirit lives in me.  The same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead dwells in me, and that’s pretty amazing power.  The Spirit helps me in my weakness and intercedes for me directly to the Father in groans words can't express.

What I experienced on screening day tested my foundation.  Praise Jesus my foundation is set firm in the Rock, because there were struggles I had no idea I'd encounter.

The amount of babies with hydrocephaly was alarming.  My heart breaks and weeps for them because of how capable we are in America to fix this, but here they are doomed to the fluid that accumulates in their head and is unable to drain.  And how the Lord must see them; so cherished, still so loved, still with a purpose, still knit together with the same care and tenderness that was poured into my being when it was just God looking after me in the dark quiet.

God knows we are here to help.  He sent us here knowing that, but He sure keeps us humble by showing us the work still left to do.  If we ever could have been prideful about how great Mercy Ships is, all I have to do is remember that poor baby who’s head was too heavy for her to lift, and her eyes that were puffy from excess fluid and pressure, and her poor high pitched cry.  There is nothing we can do for them, except pray and entrust them to the Father's capable hands.

I did have a sweet encounter with a girl in line who was developmentally delayed and had some muscle tone issues.  I saw her nails were painted so I showed her mine and pretended to paint her other nails with a piece of grass from the ground.  She was so entertained, and so was I.  Only I was entertained with her smile, her face and her joy.  I could have painted her nails for the rest of the day if I was allowed.

My heart tore for the 3 year old girl who was raped by her father and now suffers from chronic leaking and infections.  All we could do was take her phone number and hope the surgeon can do surgery on someone so young.

The only way to cope with the hate one feels after one of those stories is to remember God is a God of justice.  He avenges, and I can take my restless, bitter heart to abide in and with Him.  That’s the only way not to feel completely crushed by the enormity of the need here.  I don't want to completely remove the brokenness and weight of the burden, but I need to be empowered so that I can work and move and pray in the Spirit. I am so tempted to believe lies like “I don’t make a difference” or “people can’t be revived from darkness like this.”  But the truth of the matter is “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. Phil 4:13.” I have the Holy Spirit in me, who it was better for Jesus to leave so the Counselor and Helper could come reside in me.  Another truth: God redeems our lives from the pit and crowns us with love and compassion (Pslam 103).

Luckily the Malagasy people have the same access to the Father as I do.  Jesus is my peace, and He came so that those who were once far away, could be brought near.  He made the invitation open to everyone, not just the Jews.  These Malagasy people are just as capable of knowing the truth as I am.

I’m thankful I can pray big prayers to a big God.  His Spirit is in many of us on the ship and is powerful and mighty and capable of leaving people “gob-smacked” (thank you, Irishman, for teaching me that word).  I can pray for the Malagasy people to be citizens of God’s household; to be part of the building being erected to become a holy temple in the Lord, with Jesus as the foundation and built up with the apostles and disciples…and with confident hope- the Malagasy people as well.

We had a powerful time of reflection and prayer today before all the nurses started working.  One thing that lights up my heart here is how often we pray.  We pray before & after workout classes, we pray before meetings and nursing shifts, and for each other and we do prayer walks and prayer runs and read the Bible for hours and SO MUCH PRAYING! It's mind blowing.  The truth of the matter is this is really what life should look like.  In all honesty, I question how I could function at home without this much prayer.  I need prayer more and more everyday. It's such a blessing to have prayer sewn in to the culture of Mercy Ship.

The coffee lovers will commiserate with me

The last few days this week, I’ve woken up crabby.   Luckily my first instinct is to pray; run to Him in the chaos of my fleshly thoughts.  I was able to shake off my funk on Thursday, but waking up Friday, I was just out to make the world miserable- forgive me, but that was the state of my heart. 

I wanted to be miserable because they only served hard boiled eggs for breakfast and I was tired of not having any control over selecting my breakfast.  I was angry because the coffee just doesn’t taste good to me.  It tastes burnt and strong and the milk we use just doesn’t quite taste like half and half from home.  I decided to cop an attitude in my heart about cleaning today, and I ended up getting splashed in the eye with our cleaning solution.  I wasn’t being careful and was too close to people cleaning the ceiling (don’t worry, Mom, my eye is fine).  I decided to be crabby because Friday was waffle Friday and all I wanted was to drown my woes in a Nutella and raspberry filled waffle.  By the time we went on morning break, someone had bought a ton of waffles.  They were calling number 22, and when I went to purchase one, they were at card 71.  I was never going to get a waffle within our 30 minute break. 

My heart was ugly, I craved someone to pray for and with me, but I couldn’t find someone in that moment.  We were busy, it just wasn’t happening.

Then, God made me stop so He could show me His grace.

We were sitting down waiting for waffles when one of the long term nurses struck up a conversation with me.  I was partially not paying attention because I was also in my “pouty 2-year old” mentality still, emailing my mom about my woes.  This nurse kept talking to me though, we commiserated over the coffee situation, she understood where I was coming from.  Her and some other people normally shared French pressed coffee during break; they knew what they were doing. 

I was thrilled that she had learned how to bypass this coffee dilemma, but it still left me without a French press and good coffee.  At that, the nurse that bought a bunch of waffles came up to our table, seeing I didn’t have a card yet, she offered me a free waffle and my card number was 31!  I was going to get a waffle before everyone else.   And on top of that, Deb told me they sell French presses at the Shop Rite right outside the port.  And double on top of that, she offered me some ground coffee of hers to use when I did get a press.  Though I politely told her I had no problem buying some, I had a brand new bag of medium roast coffee sitting on my bed by the end of the day.

Boy, did I feel dumb and ashamed.

My “creature comforts” were taking first place in deciding my mood for the day and my true colors came out in the meantime.  I spent so much time wallowing in my pity, being bitter and searching for words to pray, that I forgot our Lord has an abundant supply of grace and I just needed to open myself to accept it.

I know there’s refining going on here, He’s making me pure as gold, without blemish.  He loves me too much to leave me where I was when I first left VA to come here.  He’s breaking me of my self reliance, my pride, my selfishness.  I need to learn how to let those things go, to be content with God first and foremost and to be content in plenty and in want.  

I spent time in Ephesians 2 today and studied how often the word “grace” was mentioned in verses 1-10.  It’s mentioned three times.  Firstly, it says “by grace you have been saved” this is because of God’s great love and richness in mercy when we were all dead in our sins.  He gave us life when He raised Christ from the dead.  Next, Paul mentions how we were raised up and seated with Christ in the heavenly realms in order that in the coming ages He might show the incomparable richness of His grace, expressed in His kindness to us in Christ.  And lastly, in verse 8 he mentions again ‘by grace you have been saved, through faith, and this not of yourself, it is a gift from God, not by works so no one can boast’ (summarized in my own words).

Grace was in this from the beginning and it follows us through our walks with Christ.  It isn’t a bonus I get now that I know Jesus.  Grace is the whole reason I can know a life-giving, life-saving Savior and be here serving on MS, processing these events.  His grace in my missing coffee and receiving a fresh bag of Starbucks is an example of His kindness expressed to me through Christ- as small a gift as it is, I love Him that much more for it.  His grace is necessary for as long as I am on this earth, I just need to humble myself to accept it.  My dependence needs to be on Him more than myself, and release the “cookie cutter” version of myself I want to display for everyone.

The other thing in this too is that there was nothing I could do to get myself out of my funk.  It was all God’s grace that changed my attitude.  His grace is quieting, it stills you, like a tight hug when you feel like your body is trying to go a thousand places at once. There’s definitely more to this lesson, but for now I’m enjoying the walk with my Lord.  

Touchdown in Mada!

About a week late on posting, but I’m thrilled to say we’ve made it safely to our port in Madagascar for the next 8 months.  Our first day here consisted of welcoming the president and prime minister aboard for a tour, with a celebratory program that followed.  Madagascar is celebrating “The year of volunteer,” and the arrival of Mercy Ships basically started this off.  The president has been an incredible ally for us, offering services we’ve never received in prior field services; they’ve painted and repaired several aspects of a warehouse we need to use, they’re developing means of transportation for people that need to travel from different parts of the country to get screened at the ship.  Praise God for people who are for us. 

A view from our tent at the celebration

I was able to attend the celebration after the president toured.  The entire crew (about 300) had to basically keep in hiding while the tour was happening, so everyone was getting ready and traveling between certain stair cases; it kind of reminded me of something out of Harry Potter.  So the celebration was a large gathering here in Tamatave, located in this large quad area with a stage where several people gave speeches in Malagasy; we understood none of it.  We could pick up “Mercy Ships” every so often.  Some of us walked back with the person who had been briefing us on the Malagasy culture, so he showed us places to go and where to avoid.  He specifically pointed out a clean, attractive looking restaurant and told us none of the MS crew were allowed to go there or even order from that place.  This restaurant was positively notorious for being the place to pick up prostitutes- heart breaking. 

The people are first off, beautiful.  They have a very stoic demeanor; they observe, and can look very serious at times.  If any of you know my default death glare I can have when I’m focused or on a mission- that doesn’t even compare.  Luckily, a smile is usually the key to break that; attempt to converse in Malagasy and it’s like you’re the most entertaining person they’ve met that day- they act very surprised when you spout off a few Malagasy words.  But really, they greatly appreciate any attempt to become more familiar with them as a people and ethnic group.  It’s very sweet actually.

First day of exploring

This week the mission for us nurses is to clean the hospital and start setting up! We literally wiped everything down in bleach, the cabinets, the walls, the bed springs, the toys, even the ceiling- TWICE!  We are welcoming the day crew, who are paid volunteers from Madagascar to basically act as our translators and extra hands around the ship.  They work in the hospital along with several other departments. 

Transporting some suction containers

I became electrician for a day too!  The nurses had a “Bless the crew day” this past week, where we volunteered with other departments while some made cards for all the departments.  I changed light bulbs with 3 other nurses while the Chief Electrician took us under his wing and taught us a great deal of his trade.  His story is incredible.  He and his family lived in South Africa, had to wait years to be accepted to Mercy Ships.  Once they were accepted, they sold everything! They sold their house, cars, and belongings.  He and his wife and kids all came to the ship with two bags each to their name.  They came from a society with some remaining apartheid thinking.  He told us some of his family has disowned them because of the work they do for the poor people of Africa; they don’t think it’s right. 

Talk about taking a step of faith and suffering for the Lord.  I’m blessed to know this man, he has enriched my life.  He’s offered to make us some “real” coffee, not just the ship stuff, and I can’t wait to take him up on that.  I think I said in a previous post, the coffee isn’t quite like the Keurig from home, it’s really not even like the 7-eleven either. Hahaha, but I didn’t come here for the coffee now, did I?

Preparing to set out with the lightbulbs

A few thoughts on worship

Worship aboard the Africa Mercy is an experience of praise I have never experienced before.  On the AFM, you can see that people love Jesus.  People talk about Jesus, you see people praying, countless people with their Bibles and journals out in the café, but once you bring us all together for some worshiping, the community gets taken to a whole new level.

Yesterday marked my second time of worship on the ship, we were worshiping the night before we got into Madagascar.  The first time was my first full Sunday and there was a scheduled time of worship out in the café lobby, an open place where people can congregate on level 5 in the Starbucks café and on deck 6 in midships, but still see down into the cafe.  It fills up quickly and there’s people everywhere, sitting against walls, on the stairs, leaning on the rails.  Someone picks up a guitar, someone maybe gets on the bongo drums, and singing ensues.

The songs are the typical worship songs, some newer ones I don’t know, others are old favorites.  I think my favorite part is looking over all the people from so many different countries, worshiping in one room for one God.  As soon as I close my eyes the ship goes away and all I can see and feel is light and His people worshiping before His great throne.  God smiles and our voices rise that much higher and more harmonious that it has to be close to what heaven sounds like. 

Those glimpses of heaven don’t come often; it’s in the quiet of a morning sunset before we reach the dock in Madagascar, it’s in the vast expanse of the ocean, it’s in the silence of the stars in the middle of the ocean, it’s in a prayer in a different language yet felt just as clearly in the soul as though you were praying it yourself. 

Worship is rejuvenating, it’s what we were created to do in the first place; enjoy our Father.  And that’s all I got to say about that.

This is Ephesians 3:2 written down in the engine room of the ship.
"assuming, by the way, that you know God  gave me the special responsibility of extending His grace to you Gentiles."