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.