February is coming to a close and we have had a busy season of plastics patients. Many arms, legs, fingers and toes regained degrees of range of motion, faces were given eye lids, lips, noses, when they had been absent for years.
This season was so different from orthopedics. Our patient population varied greatly. Where as in ortho we only served kids up to the age of 15, plastics served men and women of all ages, from 7 months to 60-some years old. This brought more of a community feel, having people and children of all ages under one roof (or belly of the ship), each of them able to interact with each other, but having something in common- a physical deformity that has played a part in their life for a period of time.
This week has been hard. I'm missing home like I never imagined I could. All in the span of a few days I came off night shift (which already established me as irrationally emotional), my sister moved up her wedding, bought a wedding dress- something the world tells me as big sister I should have played a larger part in, and my family had to make the decision to put our dog down.
The span of that 24 hours or so threatened to break me, send me into a spiral of panic. But amongst the myriad of tears and sobs, my spirit was weeping before the Lord, not in anguish as to "Why would You do this to me at a time like this," but rather, "God, I need you to show up here, my knees aren't just threatening to buckle, I'm collapsing, and I'm leaning into You to catch me."
I can't tell you how He did it, but He showed up. I went from a very dark place, to a friend that He'd placed on my heart showing up to my door at the right time, to weeping while she held me, listening to my friend pray over me, to processing through truth and reminding myself that He who promises is faithful, to having the strength to leave my cabin and surround myself with people that love and can support me through this.
Working on the wards today sent this lesson home.
The patient's on the wards have all been on the ship for several weeks now, I'm familiar with all of them, kids and adults alike. We were taking lunch breaks today and so it was only me and another nurse watching the ward. Little Tsanta had been playing nicely on the floor. I was watching her from our medication counter, she was within eye and earshot. Out of no where, something strikes panic in her, she starts crying, doesn't run toward her bed where her mama is, but toward the med counter where I'm standing. She wasn't even my patient, half the time she doesn't pay me any attention. Whether she didn't realize her mama was just sleeping in bed or she didn't feel well, she ran straight at me and into me, crouched down and arms already open and waiting for her as she rounded the corner.
I picked her up and she melted like butter in my arms. It was one of the most tender moments I've had. We held an intimacy for the time I kept her, her arms wrapped around my neck, head nestled into the crevice of my chest. I took her out in the hall and we walked. She remained dead weight, crying ceased, just needing my arms to do their job while things got better. Gosh what a picture of our Father; and a picture I get to role reverse literally right now, today. I'm Tsanta, and God is me. God has me in eyesight at all times. He will hold me until my heart is content. He will keep a watch on me when I tell Him I'm okay and I go back to playing on the floor. And He will feel full, pouring out the love He craves for me to accept. All can be well when we just run to Him.
If I felt like I was sacrificing before, this trumps it. I'm suffering in Christ the only way I know how; praying and fasting and immersing in Scripture. The Lord extended me to April 24th for a reason knowing back in November, that all these emotions would be at the forefront at this time of my trip. I'm a little over a week away from my roommate leaving, another piece of comfort departing. But even if I'm left without a roommate that gets me, even if I'm missing wedding planning time, even if I'm not home to grieve with my family, it's not me that holds the control. God is present in the midst of my sorrows, just as He is present in the midst of my joys. It doesn't make any of this easier to endure, but it refocuses my efforts. It reminds me I'm not here for myself, I never was.
My visit to the Hope Center this week left me with a feeling I’ve glimpsed before, but then haven’t really pondered on later. Tonight I did.
I went out to the bow of the ship and just sat before the Lord and His heavens talking to Him, something I’ve been frequenting with a friend since the new year. But tonight it was just me, and I’ve been trying to ask God at the end of my days “Lord what did you end up showing me today?” I’ll usually think back to some patients I had and glimpse a deeper beauty in the care and physical change that occurs. Tonight it was about Windy and Fandresena.
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| Windy |
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| Fandresena |
I’ve been to the Hope Center before and it’s always really fun. I get to visit outside my role as nurse and enjoy the patients that are staying in the facility for future appointments and dressing changes. We’ve sent many of our plastics patients to the Hope Center so that skin grafts can continue to heal and further rehab worked on.
My two friends and I decided to run from the ship for exercise, but of course stop for ice cream on our way home. Windy and Fandresena flocked as soon as they saw three Mercy Shippers walking down the Hope Center driveway. Windy is about 11 years old while Fandresena is only 6 or so. I was sweaty when we arrived, but this didn’t hinder either of them from approaching me, wrapping their arms around my sweaty shirt, holding my hands to pull me down to their level and hang on me like I was their sister coming home for the day.
Neither of them left my side the whole 45 minutes we were there. Fandresena was constantly in contact, falling over my body while we sat on the patio, craving love and attention, and I was just the person he wanted to receive it from. He sat right next to me while I was greeting other mamas and patients I recognized, he laughed at the silliness that being a foreigner and not understanding much Malagasy will bring. Windy knows more English, which just astounds me, so interaction with him is so fun while we learn English and Malagasy from each other. Our repore grows every time I see him. He knows I love to learn from him and I believe he holds the same sentiments.
Thinking back on my visit, I realize I would love to adopt Fandresena and Windy’s response and actions towards me to my relationship with Jesus. Take it back to that child-like, simply trusting, enjoying, relaxing, playing demeanor. Sure, Fandresena’s hand still wasn’t completely healed and he can’t use it for much yet, but he wasn’t concentrating on what he lacked. He was concentrating on enjoying me while I was there. He trusted that I wouldn't do anything to hinder his injury. Windy still has remnants of his burn on his face, head and neck, his arm is still wrapped from surgery, his face and head have scars and keloids that will never go away, but did his looks hinder the way he approaches me or approaches anyone for that matter? No, he’s one of the most wittiest, spunkiest kids I’ve met here.
Both of these boys were my patients. I’ve had a hand in creating what they have now; though a very small part, I’ve left my fingerprint on them, and so, they have a part of me. I possess a sense of parental love for them, excited to witness the transformation that continues to happen.
I don’t doubt Jesus desires to accept me the same way I accepted Windy and Fandresena today, except with an exponentially more perfect love. I wanted nothing more than to give every ounce of love my body could produce to these two boys, not because of anything they’ve ever done to me, but because of the survivors and thrivers they’ve grown into; because they have been transformed.
Jesus doesn't want me to approach Him with timidity, but rather functioning under the belief that He is so happy to be with me and won't do anything to hinder the work that's already taken place within me. Jesus knows every wound, every scar on my body, and loves each story behind them. He is aware of these wounds, just as I was aware not to over use Fandresena's healing fingers or aggravate Windy's mending arm. Some wounds He desires me to let Him touch and give life into. The wounded hand I've wanted to keep away from Jesus this whole time, He is holding with the utmost tenderness. I need to trust Him, just as I trust Him in the times I sit and enjoy Him. He needs to do work on this injured part; work that might hurt, but I know it will be for the better and make use of my whole body that much better. Where the enemy intends for defeat, I choose to claim victory in Christ. .
This is definitely a continuing theme for me. Returning to the basics of faith. Letting go of unnecessary baggage that I am placing on myself, unrealistic expectations that the world tells me are important and letting Jesus and His Word speak louder. Where I lack, He has plenty. When I cry out to Him in my anguish, He answers me by setting me free (Psalm 118:5). He's taking me where I never would have wanted to go in order to produce in me what I never could have accomplished on my own (-Paul Tripp)
