I’ve had the privilege of working with the local nurse
education program with Mercy Ships. We spend time alternating shadow shifts
with nurses at the local hospital, Hopital Be, and the local nurses shadowing
us on our wards. We provide education
and teaching presentations after our shifts in hopes of improving their nursing skills and knowledge, and encourage them to share their knowledge
with others.
This past week we were on the Medical/Surgical ward,
patients of all ages were there. Many motor vehicle accidents, appendicitis,
burns, anemia, children, adults… practically anything.
During rounds with the nurses and doctors, we came to a
boy with his papa. Sitting in bed was a young child,
from far away it looked like severe malnutrition resulting in an oversized,
swollen belly, only it wasn’t his belly that was large, it was his
shoulder. He had a tumor on his shoulder
the size of a basketball. The doctors
deliberated and said they would have to get back to the family about what they
were going to do. It was likely
malignant, his body was wasting away, you could see vessels within the tumor, he
could barely sit up, it was probably affecting his breathing in some way. I’ve never seen anything like it. We walked
away and proceeded to the next patient.
That night I read a friend’s note from my going away
journal, full of encouraging letters and scripture. Reading one note, he said “Cry when your
heart breaks. Be broken and mended by Jesus.”
My mind immediately went to remembering this boy. I prayed for him immediately, my mind felt
the gravity of how sick this boy was, and I did nothing to help him. He’s practically the same age as my nephew,
and I didn’t offer anything, I just stared at him. I thought of what I would do
if my nephew was in his place. I felt sick thinking about it.
When we were all staring at him: doctors, nurses, other
patients, Mercy Shippers... I can’t imagine what was going through his young
mind: fear, sadness, hope, anguish,
pain, exhaustion? I’ll never know. But I do know that I did nothing to alleviate
fear or encourage hope. I was one that
stared at him along with everyone else, like vultures staring down their prey on
the ground, unable to take their gaze away.
Luckily, I did cry when my heart broke, and I prayed for a
second chance, prayed to be able to go to Hopital Be and give this boy a
balloon that said “Tia anao Jesosy” (Jesus loves you). I wanted to touch him, his poor little
swollen, tired, scared face, in hopes of restoring something to him that didn’t
involve his tumor- this thing that defined the last several months of his
life. I didn’t want that to be his last
impression of me; someone gaping at him, someone supposedly “able to help” but
not even offering eye contact at his level.
The Lord did answer my prayer. He led me to the balloon idea, led me to ask
a friend to drive me, and she did. I know
it was all in the Lord’s hands whether he would be there or not. I just had to go on faith and my
conviction. The Lord knew my heart
behind it.
The next day I went back to the Medical/Surgical ward at Hopital
Be in attempt to see the little 7- year old boy with a giant tumor to his right
shoulder, swelling radiating to his face, extremities completely eaten away
from this growth on his body.
Driving there I started to get scared, but excited. I was on a mission to set things right- the way
I should have done things in the first place.
I sped walked through the dirty corridors in hopes of spotting this
boy. Searching the other side of the
ward I ran into one of the local nurses I knew.
Through broken French and English I gathered that the boy had left. Money was an issue. He was gone.
I experienced my first let down in Madagascar.
The wind was knocked out of me, but I said “thank you” and
walked out. What was I supposed to do
with that? He was gone, I was there
ready and willing, but this boy was not.
I went home, knowing the Lord was going to have to do some work on my
heart that night.
We watched Lord of the Rings Return of the King that
night. One of the scenes at the end of
the movie stuck out to me more than normal.
Aragorn and the men of Gondor stand at the black gates trying to lure the remaining army of Mordor out so Frodo and Sam can have a safe passage
through to Mount Doom. Victory is
impossible for the men of Gondor, but Aragorn gives his epic pre-battle speech. The rest of the army perk up and rise to the
challenge, ready to fight. Aragorn
softly declares “for Frodo” to the other members of the fellowship, and takes off running toward the massive opponent. It’s the next people that charge out that stood out to me. Merry and Pippin, the two hobbits, smallest
and shortest beings present, probably worst skilled fighters present, so
consumed by their allegiance to Frodo and the missions of the ring, yell and start running, separating themselves from the rest of the men who
haven’t charged yet.
Merry and Pippin were small, but the voice of their heart
was louder than their circumstances. They
lost all sight of their life and took off to accomplish what they believed
would help their friend, somewhere in the backdrop of this last battle. They had no guarantee of the end result; they
had no idea if Frodo would even get into Mount Doom. All they could do was fight their present
battle without knowing the end result.
That is how I hope to follow the gospel. Not knowing what progress or
obstacles the gospel is facing in the background, if I feel so moved to act on
behalf of someone I meet or have known for years, shame on me if I don’t do it
with the same vigor as Merry and Pippin, being only consumed with allegiance to
the hope that good will prevail and evil will fall.
I think I experienced a taste of that vigor when I went back
to Hopital Be. I was scared, but
thrilled to be acting on behalf of the hope of advancing the gospel. Showing up and realizing the boy went home,
was like losing the immediate battle that was in front of me. But I separated from the pack and ran with
abandon, only holding on to the knowledge that I know who wins in the end.
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