Welcome back

Same country, round two.  It's like I never left.  There was some hesitancy about whether I was spiritually, emotionally, mentally and physically prepared to come back for this month, but my heart took no time at all to realign itself with Mercy Ships and the country and people of Madagascar.

The month leading up to being here has been hard- again.  After ending my job for the summer, I found out my service dates were going to be delayed two and a half weeks.  The vision I had for coming back to the ship quickly faded.  What I hoped for this time was no longer a sure plan, disappointed would be an understatement.

After a delay and shortened service dates, things dont look much like I intended, so the Lord has repeatedly reminded me that although I present an organized and well thought out outline- signed, sealed and delivered- of my intentions for my time on the ship, He still has the thoughts and the ways that are higher than mine.  Some other areas He's teaching me this same lesson lately: I didn't get the job I wanted at home and I don't have many prospects for when I go back, I didn't get the amount of time I wanted with Mercy Ships, the plastics specialty is getting severely downsized this first part of the service due to the surgeon being unable to get here for several weeks, thus I likely won't be taking care of people in this specialty that I love.

All my well thought out plans have been tossed into the air, and I just have to sit patiently and continue seeking out Jesus. At first reaction I want to pout, thinking I know better, that my time is jaded in some way; as if the Lord has ever disappointed me before.  My time with the ship last field service was so rich with deeper revelations and lessons the Lord taught me, how could I think any different for this go around? About all I've managed in the last month is to keep turning to scripture and leaning into the Lord, not always happily I might add.  I've felt myself pulling back the effort and time I put into knowing Him, it's horrible, but my heart is so prone to wandering.

But man, even amongst all my questioning and doubt, even then, the Lord displays His presence and His love.  I wouldn't have rekindled a relationship with my Dad if I left on time, he wouldn't have been the one to take me to the airport and see me off, I wouldn't have been a part of evaluating all our plastics patients from last year- welcoming a warehouse full of smiling people and functioning limbs that only a year ago were stuck to their body and brought shame and embarrassment to them and their family.

This has been a blessing in the most exponential, tsunami form. God displaying the work He has done months after leaving this country, to us, His children who are just trying to be obedient to His will after several delays and reports of bad news and changes- which is so hard!  We got to hear shouts of worship from patients today while they embraced with old friends, Malagasy and Mercy Ships crew, settled right back into praising with us; the Body, the church came together today.  We got to spend time sitting with people who just months ago wore hospital gowns for weeks on end, now talking about what kind of job they want to get, who they are dating, celebrating 10 fingers, seeing faces literally glow on people who cant stop smiling because they are so happy with their surgery.  One of the questions we asked them was "How much did Jesus play a role in your care?" and practically everyone just had to give the glory back to the Lord, their reliance on Him, needing to pray everyday; that's the best response we could ever ask for.  They are making their way in life and the Lord is walking so close with them, and they know it!  It's always hard to let our patients go, but having this little checkup on them was so merciful of our God.  He didn't have to do that, but He reminded us He's got it all under control.

Again I'm left with the question "How could I ever doubt You?" but God answers in love.  I forget who my strength comes from while I wait, I forget promises, I forget faith.  I try to give in drops while He returns His gifts in waves.

Less than a week in, I'm already so grateful.  No doubt The Lord has more to show me, but seeing our plastics patients return today was the cake with icing on top...and a great cup of coffee. Even amongst the setbacks, the Lord is present and making a way for us.  The enemy is figthing hard, but His saints are the ones who will stand firm against the struggle.  Light always exposes the darkness and makes it visible.

"If the Lord delights in a man's way, he makes his steps firm; though he stumble, he will no fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand." Psalm 37:23,24

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.

New level of sacrifice

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.

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)

Sobered

My sister got engaged last weekend! What the WHAT!? Little sister isn’t so little anymore.

Though I have known this was going to happen since November, I’ve had to keep my mouth shut until now.  My soon to be bro-in-law has been so sensitive through this whole process, knowing how terribly I wanted to be present for the big day.  Before I left for Cape Town I had specifically asked him if he was planning on proposing before I got back, figuring I could mentally prepare myself either way.  At that moment in time in October, it wasn’t on his radar for anytime soon- I was in the clear.  Within the span of a month many things changed.  Sean got a job, life started moving forward, and he needed his lady at his side- the next chapter was here and I was in Madagascar. 

The night Sean asked my blessing to marry my sister, I thought my heart was going to come out of my mouth.  I knew it was so right, but I was so sad.  I took it immediately to the Lord, asked Him to speak life and hope as only He could to comfort me.  

Things went quiet for the next month or so. I was helping Sean pick out the ring based on conversations with Linds and rings she had tried on with me.  By the end of December, he had the ring.

Once the new year came, everything moved pretty fast.  Mom and Dad gave their blessing, the place and time was set, and the after party was planned.

Days leading up to the engagement I was working night shift on the ship.  The night of the engagement I was on night 3 of 4.  It worked out though, because my friends on the ship all offered support leading up to it, hugs, my roommate started my night shift for me, because Linds literally called me minutes before my shift was supposed to start.

The day of, I was an emotional mess, but blessings were peaking through nonetheless.  It was a Sunday, and every Sunday I meet with several women on the ship for what we call Love Dinner.  This was perfectly timed because they encouraged me to enter into those feelings of bittersweet joy and sorrow as they prayed over me.  Then we had church, where my favorite chaplain was preaching.  She reminded me of the fatherly qualities my Father possesses, and returning to the root of who He is as Dad.  I was in tears the whole time.  My emotions were rising; toward the end of church, I realized I was in the moments leading up to Sean proposing on the other half of the world, and my poor body didn’t know what it wanted.  I was anxious, panicky, sad, angry, happy, annoyed, irritated, selfish…I had to try to remain in the presence of the only One who could comfort me the way I needed it because nothing else could.

In those moments during church, the Lord put on my heart “immeasurably more,” reminding me of the infinite capacity He has to do anything and everything He wants and that He works all things for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.  I recognized I’m included in that group.

As soon as I saw Linds on my phone, I lost it.  The engagement was perfect, like I said, tears were everywhere, I got to talk to Linds right after it happen, then Facetime in for the surprise engagement, have my other sister read a toast I had prepared.  For the cards we were dealt, it was as perfect as it could be, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart.

My guest appearance on Dad's phone!

Night shift was not kind to me the coming day, I was woken up by the deck crew banging on something below me, I didn’t sleep well and I was throwing a pity party for one.  I was sad that I was so far away from family.  I was upset that I was tired, I didn’t feel like being in Madagascar anymore.  I was mad at myself for even thinking these things especially after how long I have waited to get here. Ugly ugly cycle, especially on night shift brain. 

I read this that next night after the engagement.  It’s a prayer from the book Valley of Vision, a collection of beautiful Puritan prayers that a great friend gave me for my birthday a few years back. This is an excerpt from the prayer “Year’s End.”

"…Thy goodness will be with me in the year ahead;

I hoist sail and draw up anchor,

With thee as the blessed pilot of my future as of my past.

I bless thee that thou hast veiled my eyes to the waters ahead.

If thou hast appointed storms of tribulation,

thou wilt be with me in them;

If I have to pass through tempests of persecution and temptation,

I shall not drown;

If I am to die,

I shall see thy face the sooner;

If a painful end is to be my lot,

grant me grace that my faith fail not;

If I am to be cast aside from the service I love,

I can make no stipulation;

Only glorify thyself in me whether in comfort or trial,

as a chosen vessel meet always for thy use. " (italics added by me)

I had been praying all day for something to knock me back on course.  I could sense I had lost my luster for my time here and I didn’t know what I needed, but God did.  I read this prayer and immediately felt sobered.

God doesn’t promise me another day other than the one I’m living right now.  He doesn’t have to wake me up in the morning, give me breath, and thoughts, and control of my muscles to get out of bed, but today He chose to give that to me.  Even though I woke up with very different intentions, He did not withhold this day from me.   I was brought to a state of repentance as soon as I read those words.  I was sorry that I ever took for granted the gift of this day, of each day in this life for that matter.  I recognized I don’t have to make it through the rest of this field service, even the rest of this year; the Lord could take me tomorrow.  He knows how much my heart hurts not to be with my sister and my family during this exciting time.  But He also knows what He’s doing by keeping me here. 

So I’m faced with a question each day from here on out.  “Am I going to spend this day questioning God why I’m not home with the people and friends I want to be with right now, or am I going to deny my flesh and look at what the Lord wants to show me today?”  Remember, I am loved and cherished and an heir of Christ from the moment I wake up because I've accepted Him in my heart.  There’s nothing I can do to be snatched from my Father’s hand.  He’s got things He wants to tell me, but I have to do my part in abiding in Him.  He can and will do immeasurably more in celebrating my sister’s engagement when I get back, immeasurably more in my time remaining in Madagascar, immeasurably more in my singleness, but it’s foolish to worship the prospects of these things and not the Giver.  I haven’t been forgotten just because I am away from Virginia.  The Lord sees me today, he tells me He will never leave me or forsake me, He is my Helper and in Him I can take refuge.

Let’s just say I’ve been doing a lot of self talk reminders lately.  It’s a good place, He’s comforting me, He’s bringing peace.  There’s been more rejoicing in the morning and less sorrow.

Loneliness and finding my identity

The Lord has slowly been revealing the finicky state of my heart.  As the new plastics specialty is starting and we’re getting more patients in the hospital, I thought my attitude and feeling of “purpose” would improve along with it.  That has not been the case.  I’ve continued to feel an undeniable sense of lack of purpose.  I thought maybe it was because I wasn’t familiar with plastics, I thought it was because I’ve only had 2-3 patients per shift, but that also wasn’t it.

A few days ago when I was asked, “What do you need here?” in the context of, “so I can better love my community on the ship and in Madagascar,” I found I was a little reluctant to answer.  I had been struggling for several weeks to name this “need,” but instead, called myself ungrateful for this opportunity and tried to pray this feeling away and realign with the Lord.  The truth I found after my conversation was that I desire someone to know me deeply and to feel purposed again. 

Since friends have left a few weeks ago, I’m finding I feel their absence so much greater now than the initial goodbye. This friend that left the ship knew me on the level that my family does.  She was my person that made home feel closer than halfway across the world.  With her gone, I have struggled with feeling “known” in this place, and in turn feel jaded and reluctant to socialize as often as I would have before this friend left. When I felt like someone knew me on that deeper, intimate level, it energized and enabled to me to be able to pour out love and attention to other people on the ship I might not have known as well. With her gone, I feel more empty in that area.  I can call that feeling- loneliness.

Then comes my frustration with lack of purpose again. 

I realized how much of an American I am when someone called me out on this one.  In less than a few minutes of explaining my predicament, this women called it.  She said “Are you sure you aren’t finding your identity in your job as a nurse on the ship?”

What? No of course not. ... Okay, maybe I am. … Wow, that’s exactly what I’m doing. …Bingo.

Us Westerners put a lot of stock in our careers, our jobs, our ability to advance and remain challenged in those areas.  Completing tasks consumes our lives.  To a degree, America tells us it defines our worth- how busy can you stay, how much can you get done in one day? 

Coming to Mercy Ships, that sentiment came with me.  I think during orthopedics, this feeling was masked because everything was so new- thus I was being challenged, I had purpose.

So what I’ve learned from this wise woman who so gently guided me to the truth in the matter: at my core I am deeply loved, I am called the righteousness of God, I am an heir with Christ, I have inherited every spiritual blessing in the heavenly realms, I am wonderfully made, I am a masterpiece… all before I have done any work for the Kingdom of God. All of these things can be declared true at the time I was created back before the world was even a molecule, because it was at that time I was chosen to be God’s daughter.  Though I wouldn’t know Him until I was 18 years old, I was loved and cherished.  Though I would come to Mercy Ships and have days that I would sit in the café and read a book all day, maybe not even talk to anyone, I started that day already loved; not because of anything I’ve ever done or ever will do for the Kingdom, all because I am who He tells me I am.

So before I accomplish anything as a nurse here, whether I save a life today or color pictures for a whole 8 hours, I am special and purposed and loved.  My actions here don’t justify what Christ did for me, and I don’t have to perform a certain way to justify my time here either.  I was justified the day Christ died for me, before I accomplished anything, before I knew Him as my Father, before I graduated nursing school…all of it.  My identity lies first in Christ, and all other things fall into place.  He knows my prayer to remain in the center of His will.  So it’s okay when I have days I don’t even set foot in the hospital, it’s okay when I have days that I just feel like watching a movie, and it’s okay when I have good or bad shifts in the hospital.  I am taking my title as “nurse” off its pedestal and replacing it with “belonging to Christ.”  

Bringing this full circle, God knows I desire to be known deeply by a friend here.  He’s teaching me other things in the meantime, but my identity does not lie in another person either.  I don’t believe God is calling me to walk through this time or this life standing on Him and not use the community He’s placed on the ship.  We’re just rewinding a little bit, we’re redefining a few things that I’ve let slip.