Two boys

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.

Windy

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)