Long road to restoring dignity

I just finished my day shift to stick around and participate in our first Dress ceremony for our VVF ladies.  This is a day that celebrates our current VVF patients getting discharged from the ship for good, today we had 5.  These women come from the bush, traveled by bus, some by plane to get here, some have no teeth in the front, many cannot read, some have been leaking for 30 years, some only 6 months, but they are all walking out of this place DRY.

Dry means they can regain their dignity- our prayer since the start of this specialty. Dry means they can work again, it means hope and a fuller life.   If I try to stop and think what it would be like if I had constant leaking, no resources to help stop it, a family to raise, money to earn with few job opportunities, I can't even fathom the life struggle that would bring.  It's horrible to even consider.

The Dress ceremony day has been advertised all over the ship this week.  Many people came, the ward was full of people from all over the ship.  When the ceremony started, the women processed from an empty ward where they had gotten ready- given a new dress, hat, necklace and makeup done- they were beautiful. All of us waited in the ward in anticipation, listening to them sing a worship song down the hall.  They came in, and sat in the middle of the ward, similar to queens sitting at their throne. A few more songs were sung, a message of thankfulness and joy was given by chaplaincy, then each woman stood and gave a brief testimony of their experience. They were given gifts symbolic of Jesus; soap to remind them who TRULY cleanses them, lotion as a reminder who softens our bruised and broken hearts, and a mirror to remind them that they are beautifully, fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of a God who is crazy about them.

We've fixed their insides with the help of the Lord, but they still have emotional healing to experience.  All the women stared at the ground any time there was attention placed on them.  I wanted so badly to lift their chins and breathe pride into their hearts that still need transformation.  They remind me of Moses, when God told him he would be the one to talk to Pharaoh.  He thought there was no way he could be the one, because he wasn't good at speaking.  But Moses didn't have a say in God's choice.  Neither do these women.  Being healed and experiencing Mercy Ships elevates them to a place not many are chosen to go.  I have no idea what that actually looks like, but these women have plans, and by plans, I pray they rock the foundation of their towns, the sin of prostitution in this country, the injustice of women as old as 15-16 years old getting pregnant by men who shouldn't be meddling with women that young.   They are a physical picture of redemption, but I sense the heart can be a little slower to win over.

some of our women still patients in the ward

One of my other thoughts brewing currently is what it looks like for these women to be called away from everything they've ever known to a place that claims they can heal them- that's faith if I ever saw it.  Many have likely never ventured far from home, never seen the coast even.  Many come from dark pasts, men that treated them badly, excruciatingly painful  labors and deep anguish of losing a baby, if not several babies.  They have nothing to lose.

I picture the Lord drawing them away to the desert, similar to Hosea 2:14 "But then I will win her back once again. I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her there."  I would consider traveling many hours from home, staying on a foreign hospital ship with white people taking care of you in a very intimate way- the desert. They have minimal contact with home as they are not able to bring caregivers to stay in the hospital, and many can't afford phones.  I catch my breath imagining our tender Father doing to these women what He did in me 6 very short years ago.  It took me 18 years of wandering to finally tune my ear to listen, and I had nothing near the degree of turmoil these women have overcome.  I don't downplay my story at all, but if it gives anyone inspiration for prayer for these women, that would be it!  It's inspiring to witness several of our patients wrestling with the question of who is Jesus.  In the face of their heartache, several are crying out.  It's thrilling to watch as chaplaincy and our day crew spend time at the bedside, just talking, working through truth that before now has been clouded in their lives. 

Those are just some of my initial thoughts.  I look at these women with the pride of a Mama bear.  Letting these fragile cubs go back to their homes is gut wrenching- not knowing what they're going to face without me, without Mercy Ships.  Again, as with other specialties, I'm not allowed to follow, but having to place faith and trust in a Father who does follow, and goes before them in all things.

Dealing with disappointments

It's a bit of a letdown when you think you make headway somewhere, just to find out there are ugly skeletons in the closet.

Many of our patients in the hospital get discharged to the Hope Center. They are healthy enough to leave the hospital, but still need regular dressing changes and rehab appointments.  For two weeks I've been assigned to work at the Hope Center to help educate their day crew in order for the day crew to start teaching the patients different health topics which will hopefully initiate better health practices once they go home after Mercy Ships.

Having time away from the wards has been a nice change.  I get to be outside everyday, meet a new group of Mercy Ship crew, play with all my patients I had to say goodbye to in the wards.  Although, working here the last two weeks has caused the rose colored glasses I've been wearing to come off and I'm seeing true colors.  I've found out some things that I never would have thought true of some of our patients.

Two of the teenage girls from the wards had been sneaking out past quiet hours while staying in the Hope Center, not returning until early in the morning.  One of them had been acting promiscuously toward grown men also staying in our facility. One girl has since left, but one is still left.  She has been heavy on my heart this week; my pastor back in VA always says "Nothing good happens past midnight," and in Madagascar I have a feeling that holds true as well.  I hate that my mind goes there, but I cringe at the thought of two girls 14 and 19 getting caught up in the "night activities" that are so notorious here.  Boils my blood just thinking about it.

Another caregiver, a papa from our wards used to get cigarette breaks while he was staying in the hospital.  Come to find out, when he's left on his own, he likes to pair that with alcohol.  A papa who greets me with the kindest smile and a handshake every time I see him, thinks it more important to go drinking and leave his daughter in their room, come back and act like a child and threaten other people.  That also boils my blood, moreso for his daughter, who has such joy and thrill for life.  Give it time, alcoholism wears out not only the accused, but their family as well.

Finding these things out makes me grit my teeth and want to attempt to win this tug of war fight on my own.  I want to will these people to change; stop engaging in "night activities" whatever that may be, and stop getting drunk and coming back and threatening people you're staying with!

But alas, my feeble attempt to change people stops at the thought of it; I'm brought back to earth and smacked in the face with reality.  This world is broken, sin plagues everything and people's demons don't let go easily.




So I've taken it to prayer, asked for guidance and wisdom.  I love these people, I'm invested, and I'm not leaving them because they're getting too messy for me.  I'm going to do my best to gracefully shed light on what has thrived in darkness.

One of our day crew from the wards has visited the Hope Center twice this week, so I have a trusted friend of the faith and interpreter on the same page.  I recognize this situation is fragile, the last thing I want to do is send a message of condemnation from the white foreigner, so I'm trusting my day crew to approach this in the appropriate timing and with the appropriate words and questions. If I get to be part of that and help ask questions, great, but I also don't want to completely turn off any chance to reach this girl.  The papa is going home with his daughter today, so I'm sending my prayers with him.

This is the part of this job that makes you feel like beating your head against the wall.  From my point of view, I want this to be these people's big new life start, but in reality, we're just changing their physical appearance and loving them with Jesus' love and telling them what He did for them.  Jesus is going to be the one to change the insides, and He doesn't always do it on our timing.  We are here loving and offering grace and the gospel to everyone.  At the end of the day/field service, they will leave and go back home to places we can't go.  We might not see everyone come to repentance, but if we are another stepping stone closer to that point, I'll gladly continue doing what I'm doing.  I think that's all I can really do.