I am a nurse

Finally! It feels good to be able to say that again.  The time and experiences leading up to the hospital opening have been great and beneficial, but finally being able to do what I originally signed up for…it feels right.

That being said, there are many lessons that go into getting back into the nursing swing.  There’s a lot of new learning going on: learning the patient population, paper documentation, Malagasy phrases, where supplies are kept, how to slow down and play with the kids when my Western background is so task focused, relearning compassion in a place where the tendency IS NOT “how much can I abuse my nurse” but, “let me ask for bread and butter because I’m actually starving from traveling 1,000 km to seek help at Mercy Ship because I have nowhere else to turn for the infected burn on my head.”

I’m relearning how to put my trust back into my patients, giving them the benefit of the doubt, because they actually do tell the truth.

After only a week of nursing shifts, I’ve come to realize a struggle, and probably a lie, I am believing.  Yesterday I had a day off and went to the beach with a few people. I got caught up with myself in feeling bad for enjoying my time out.  I think the root of it is I don’t feel as though I am doing much with spreading the gospel to my patients.  I get very task oriented in the wards, but if I’m totally honest, I don’t know how to deliver the gospel here.  I’ve had thoughts of praying at their bedside before they go to sleep, using the Malagasy names for God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit.  Or I’ve thought of bringing a picture of my family to show them and segway into Jesus after that.  I feel like I’m not giving them the full story of Jesus, that I’m not doing this “calling” of mine, justice.  I struggle with being satisfied in doing my job well, and being satisfied in acting on the nudges I get from the Holy Spirit.  I struggle to realize this is a “big picture” story.  I know the whole burden of their salvation does not land on my shoulders.  I shouldn’t neglect or let pass up any opportunities to share Jesus, but not be defeated because I’m not shoving Jesus at them.  I think the biggest anxiety that has popped up is fast forwarding to when I’m leaving the ship, looking back and feeling like “what did I really accomplish” and feeling empty.

I really want to get my “works” to the forefront as something to show for being on Mercy Ships.  But it’s not clicking because it 1. It’s not scriptural; “by grace you have been saved…not by works so that no one can boast” and 2. Jesus says in Matthew 9:13 “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.”

So I struggle with the question “what does putting mercy at the forefront of this time look like?” I’m on Mercy Ships for Pete’s sake.  How or what does that look like here? How do I know if I’m on the right track?  I asked the Lord this question last night in the quiet back corner of our library- I was craving a quiet place in private with Him.  I looked up at the bookshelf in front of me and saw the “MacArthur Bible commentary” bible right in front of me. So I picked it up and started studying the phrase that I was stuck on in Matthew 9 “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.”  Jesus quoted this from Hosea 6; Israel had been broken and injured by the Lord because of their way of living, but the Lord promised to heal and bind up their wounds. God is in the business of reviving and restoring.  God just wants Israel to acknowledge Him, press on in acknowledging Him, have faith He will appear and not love Him like the morning mist or early dew that disappears (paraphrased Hosea 6:3-4).

Amongst several minutes of struggling I also turned to Psalm 51:16, 17 “You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.  The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.”

Then MacArthur said “Ritual without genuine repentance is useless.”

Then it clicked.

I am here because I grasp the enormity of the gift that is offered to me through Christ’s death.  I want nothing more than to live in a humble posture before the Lord, in complete submission with my life, my words and my actions in order that God’s glory be shown through my life and me as a vessel.

A life of repentance looks like this.  I’m standing, I have a huge rubber band strapped around my waist, connected to the world; connected to its lies, to my flesh that fights to cause me to sin.  Repentance is taking a step in the opposite direction of the world and toward God.  With each step, that rubber band gets tauter and threatens to drag me back toward the world, but walking with the Lord give me strength for each step.  Walking with Him, we already belong to Him, it’s just how tight am I willing the make that rubber band- repentance is a lifelong thing.  I slip sometimes, and that’s okay, but as followers, we will never snap back completely to the world, we can’t, the Holy Spirit acts as a wall, standing as a permanent barrier between us and who we used to be.  It’s recognizing when our feet are losing traction and realigning our eyes on our end goal.  As that band gets tighter, its pull toward the world becomes more and more noticeable, manifested through doubting God, looking to myself for control, becoming anxious when I look at the enormity of the task I have been faced with in Madagascar.   But the tauter the band gets, that means I am that much closer to the Lord than the world.  I know Him better than I know the world, I live in His presence instead of allowing the world’s voice to be louder.  It is that much more vital that my time with the Lord is set apart, that I pray with fervor and ask questions and remain in Scripture- all things the world influences me not to do. 

So I have recognized my feet threatening to slip, I have realigned my eyes not on my own feet, but the Lord.  I take heart in knowing the One who pilots me through places I don’t know how to navigate, and remain in a place of repentance before the Lord.  

The Lord timed a country briefing perfectly for last night, titled, "Living Internationally in Madagascar." Our speaker talked about living "incarnationally"; living in Madagascar as people who are doers and speakers of the Word, making the Word flesh.  She touched on the simplicity of what striving to love and be a part of this nation does for the people, and at the same time how our love, rooted in Christ is what speaks.  She specifically touched on the disadvantage of the "foray" type of evangelizing- a quick sudden attack of the gospel and expecting immediate transformation- exactly what I was believing I was supposed to be doing.

The Lord is speaking truth into this lie I have believed.  I have uttered it out loud to friends, so there has already been so much freedom.  But especially after our speaker last night, I feel settled. There are definitely times where a bold presentation of the gospel is warranted.  For me, living in Madagascar for 6 months, I want these people to learn I am their sister in Christ, not a foreigner come to fix them and leave.  Oh, the peace that surpasses all understanding.  I believe the Lord will do this.  His army is mobilizing and we are motivated.

A letter to Ifod and his mama and papa

A letter to Ifod and his Mama and Papa

I saw you in the line at screening.  I could tell you couldn't talk, your eyes wandered and your muscles were small and you didn't have control of them.  Your papa had you on his lap, fanning you in the hot sun.  You seemed uncomfortable, so I tried to help fan you with my paper as well.  The double teaming worked, you looked appeased.  I stroked your arm and asked your name.  I can only guess and mimic what your papa said.  I can call you Ifod, but I’ll rest in knowing your Father knows you perfectly by name.  Your eyes were wide, you furrowed your brow often.  Were you hungry? Did your belly hurt? Was it just too hot for your poor body lying against your papa?  I smiled at you, but you didn’t acknowledge me, I don’t know that you could.  And that’s okay, you didn’t have to. 

I left you in line not knowing I would see you again inside the gate, where our pre screened patients made it through.  Only, it was relayed that I wasn’t taking you to further screening, I was escorting you to our hospital chaplaincy for prayer.  We as Mercy Ships were unable to help you, but I’m thankful your mama and papa agreed to an opportunity to pray.

So as I met you and your family walking toward me, I asked your papa if I could carry you.  I wanted to give papa a rest.  I wanted his hands to be free not because you are the burden, but so that he could see his son in my arms and see someone else loving him that really didn’t know him at all.  I wanted to hold you because your papa deserved a pat on the back for the good job he has done.  He wanted to bring you to us to see if we could help you.  When we said “no,” he wanted to pursue what we DID have in abundance, which is prayer and love- and whether he knew it or not, this brings healing too.  I don’t know what kind of life you have lived, Ifod, but today you are interacting with people who love Jesus.  Your mama and papa deserve credit for bringing you here and walking further to receive prayer.  Ifod, that gives me hope to know your mama and papa have hope.  I can hold you during the minute walk it takes to meet with chaplaincy, and I can cuddle you and rub your back and tell you you are about to go talk to a God that loves you so much, and loves your mama and papa so much. 

But eventually, I do have to give you back.  I have to set you back down in your papa’s lap and leave you to pray.  But, Ifod, you’ve left something with me I don’t think I can forget.  You’ve left an impact that reminds me that all of this is too big for me.  I haven’t given you anything that will heal your frail little body.  I have no choice, but to give you over to our Father that knows and protects us in this life.  My prayer for you is that you have or will see and understand the Lord, Ifod; that He will reveal Himself to you in a very special way because you have parents that know Jesus and have not lost hope because we can’t fix you.  That gives me hope, Ifod, that I will get to meet you again someday where you will be able to acknowledge me.

Day crew and the local church

Day crew came and visited last Thursday for orientation on B ward. Our day crew is a group of Malagasy people, employed through Mercy Ships.  They are paid workers that are dispersed amongst several areas of the ship such as housekeeping, dining staff, chaplaincy, hospital wards as interpreters and extra helping hands…etc.  They will be our native help for the entire field service, so being able to start forming relationships and spending time with them was a treat.  We got to teach them, eat with them, spend time with them and learn from them; it was a joy to speak with each one.  One of our workers actually knows people who studied abroad from JMU (my alma mater) several years ago, and remembered their names!  Like, what?!  I was floored! This world is truly so small.

We asked each day crew to teach us something about Madagascar or their culture, or anything they wanted us to know about them.  So many wanted to stress the point that the Malagasy are kind and friendly; I have experienced that already and I've only been out in the community a handful of times.  I’m excited to see how they treat their fellow neighbors in the hospital. 

I am ready to love everybody.  I want to take them and all our patients as my own flock and have them know Jesus.  I have this vision of standing before them, but there is a rail separating us.  I’m trying to lean over the rail with arms stretched out as far as they can go, willing my arms to grow longer so I can touch those who are just out of reach.  I hope I stay excited about our day crew.  I cannot force my expectations, they are human too and have stories and struggles.  No matter what they contribute, they have already been loved by their Father and their is grace for their sins, just as there is grace for mine.  

We visited a local church this past weekend.  One of our hospital chaplaincy day crew recommended it and so, we went!  We encountered Jesus there.  The worship was nothing like the way we worship at my church in VA, but the Spirit was evident.  Children and adults were worshiping and dancing, just having a good ole time.  Some of the songs had English verses, so we could sing along to some of the music.  Someone sat behind us to translate the message, and from what I could glean, the pastor taught on the power of being a Christian and having the Spirit.  The first thing I wrote in my journal during that sermon was “These people believe they have power.”

One of the main roads in town

While I haven’t had many conversations with Malagasy Christians, I’m finding I have some preconceived notions I need to rebuke.  These people may be poor economically compared to what I come from, but their spirits aren’t poor.  They have excitement about Jesus.  Their spirits in Christ aren’t weak and lowly, they are active, and they come willing and expecting to meet Jesus.

During the service we had a time of praying with our neighbor, then one of the people with us from the ship shared a testimony on the power of forgiveness.  After this, they asked for the six of us members from Mercy Ships to come up to the front so THEY could pray for us!  As others bowed their heads, I kept my eyes open and watched some 50 Malagasy with outstretched arms, eyes closed, praying.  I could see the yearning in their faces. 

Some of the landscape we get to look at

I’ve had people pray over me before, but I’ve never had people pray over me in a different language and still feel the weight of the depth of their prayers.  I left that service with a deeper grasp of what we are doing here.  Mercy Ships is an answer to the Body of Christ’s prayers here in Toamasina.  We have come at the appointed time and that makes my responsibility here much more real.  I literally am a part of their answer.  I have been hand chosen by an omnipotent, sovereign God to walk in the works He has prepared in advance for me to do.  I realize I am a very small part in the Lord’s grand plan, but I can rest in knowing I’m where I’m supposed to be.  There are many other worldly questions and feelings that pop up, but God solidified, if He hadn’t done so already, this is His time, and we are all part of bringing His kingdom here.  I look forward to working and growing with the Church here.

Screening day

Screening for patients started Monday. HAPPY DAY, SO EXCITING!  Mercy Ships is doing screening a little different this year.  Instead of one massive screening day, they are seeing people every day for a month out in the community, and continually scheduling patients for the future surgeries we will do on the ship.

The hospital getting close to ready for patients!

Tuesday I got to participate on security team.  I had to put on my serious face at times and make sure people stayed in line or didn’t jump in and cut the 600 people that were already waiting.  I got to wear a neon orange vest and carry a radio and everything.

For preparation of screening day, I prayed through Romans 8, specifically the characteristics of the Holy Spirit and how how He empowers my life.  I prayed to desire the mind of the Spirit.  I am controlled by the Spirit because the Spirit lives in me.  The same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead dwells in me, and that’s pretty amazing power.  The Spirit helps me in my weakness and intercedes for me directly to the Father in groans words can't express.

What I experienced on screening day tested my foundation.  Praise Jesus my foundation is set firm in the Rock, because there were struggles I had no idea I'd encounter.

The amount of babies with hydrocephaly was alarming.  My heart breaks and weeps for them because of how capable we are in America to fix this, but here they are doomed to the fluid that accumulates in their head and is unable to drain.  And how the Lord must see them; so cherished, still so loved, still with a purpose, still knit together with the same care and tenderness that was poured into my being when it was just God looking after me in the dark quiet.

God knows we are here to help.  He sent us here knowing that, but He sure keeps us humble by showing us the work still left to do.  If we ever could have been prideful about how great Mercy Ships is, all I have to do is remember that poor baby who’s head was too heavy for her to lift, and her eyes that were puffy from excess fluid and pressure, and her poor high pitched cry.  There is nothing we can do for them, except pray and entrust them to the Father's capable hands.

I did have a sweet encounter with a girl in line who was developmentally delayed and had some muscle tone issues.  I saw her nails were painted so I showed her mine and pretended to paint her other nails with a piece of grass from the ground.  She was so entertained, and so was I.  Only I was entertained with her smile, her face and her joy.  I could have painted her nails for the rest of the day if I was allowed.

My heart tore for the 3 year old girl who was raped by her father and now suffers from chronic leaking and infections.  All we could do was take her phone number and hope the surgeon can do surgery on someone so young.

The only way to cope with the hate one feels after one of those stories is to remember God is a God of justice.  He avenges, and I can take my restless, bitter heart to abide in and with Him.  That’s the only way not to feel completely crushed by the enormity of the need here.  I don't want to completely remove the brokenness and weight of the burden, but I need to be empowered so that I can work and move and pray in the Spirit. I am so tempted to believe lies like “I don’t make a difference” or “people can’t be revived from darkness like this.”  But the truth of the matter is “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. Phil 4:13.” I have the Holy Spirit in me, who it was better for Jesus to leave so the Counselor and Helper could come reside in me.  Another truth: God redeems our lives from the pit and crowns us with love and compassion (Pslam 103).

Luckily the Malagasy people have the same access to the Father as I do.  Jesus is my peace, and He came so that those who were once far away, could be brought near.  He made the invitation open to everyone, not just the Jews.  These Malagasy people are just as capable of knowing the truth as I am.

I’m thankful I can pray big prayers to a big God.  His Spirit is in many of us on the ship and is powerful and mighty and capable of leaving people “gob-smacked” (thank you, Irishman, for teaching me that word).  I can pray for the Malagasy people to be citizens of God’s household; to be part of the building being erected to become a holy temple in the Lord, with Jesus as the foundation and built up with the apostles and disciples…and with confident hope- the Malagasy people as well.

We had a powerful time of reflection and prayer today before all the nurses started working.  One thing that lights up my heart here is how often we pray.  We pray before & after workout classes, we pray before meetings and nursing shifts, and for each other and we do prayer walks and prayer runs and read the Bible for hours and SO MUCH PRAYING! It's mind blowing.  The truth of the matter is this is really what life should look like.  In all honesty, I question how I could function at home without this much prayer.  I need prayer more and more everyday. It's such a blessing to have prayer sewn in to the culture of Mercy Ship.

The coffee lovers will commiserate with me

The last few days this week, I’ve woken up crabby.   Luckily my first instinct is to pray; run to Him in the chaos of my fleshly thoughts.  I was able to shake off my funk on Thursday, but waking up Friday, I was just out to make the world miserable- forgive me, but that was the state of my heart. 

I wanted to be miserable because they only served hard boiled eggs for breakfast and I was tired of not having any control over selecting my breakfast.  I was angry because the coffee just doesn’t taste good to me.  It tastes burnt and strong and the milk we use just doesn’t quite taste like half and half from home.  I decided to cop an attitude in my heart about cleaning today, and I ended up getting splashed in the eye with our cleaning solution.  I wasn’t being careful and was too close to people cleaning the ceiling (don’t worry, Mom, my eye is fine).  I decided to be crabby because Friday was waffle Friday and all I wanted was to drown my woes in a Nutella and raspberry filled waffle.  By the time we went on morning break, someone had bought a ton of waffles.  They were calling number 22, and when I went to purchase one, they were at card 71.  I was never going to get a waffle within our 30 minute break. 

My heart was ugly, I craved someone to pray for and with me, but I couldn’t find someone in that moment.  We were busy, it just wasn’t happening.

Then, God made me stop so He could show me His grace.

We were sitting down waiting for waffles when one of the long term nurses struck up a conversation with me.  I was partially not paying attention because I was also in my “pouty 2-year old” mentality still, emailing my mom about my woes.  This nurse kept talking to me though, we commiserated over the coffee situation, she understood where I was coming from.  Her and some other people normally shared French pressed coffee during break; they knew what they were doing. 

I was thrilled that she had learned how to bypass this coffee dilemma, but it still left me without a French press and good coffee.  At that, the nurse that bought a bunch of waffles came up to our table, seeing I didn’t have a card yet, she offered me a free waffle and my card number was 31!  I was going to get a waffle before everyone else.   And on top of that, Deb told me they sell French presses at the Shop Rite right outside the port.  And double on top of that, she offered me some ground coffee of hers to use when I did get a press.  Though I politely told her I had no problem buying some, I had a brand new bag of medium roast coffee sitting on my bed by the end of the day.

Boy, did I feel dumb and ashamed.

My “creature comforts” were taking first place in deciding my mood for the day and my true colors came out in the meantime.  I spent so much time wallowing in my pity, being bitter and searching for words to pray, that I forgot our Lord has an abundant supply of grace and I just needed to open myself to accept it.

I know there’s refining going on here, He’s making me pure as gold, without blemish.  He loves me too much to leave me where I was when I first left VA to come here.  He’s breaking me of my self reliance, my pride, my selfishness.  I need to learn how to let those things go, to be content with God first and foremost and to be content in plenty and in want.  

I spent time in Ephesians 2 today and studied how often the word “grace” was mentioned in verses 1-10.  It’s mentioned three times.  Firstly, it says “by grace you have been saved” this is because of God’s great love and richness in mercy when we were all dead in our sins.  He gave us life when He raised Christ from the dead.  Next, Paul mentions how we were raised up and seated with Christ in the heavenly realms in order that in the coming ages He might show the incomparable richness of His grace, expressed in His kindness to us in Christ.  And lastly, in verse 8 he mentions again ‘by grace you have been saved, through faith, and this not of yourself, it is a gift from God, not by works so no one can boast’ (summarized in my own words).

Grace was in this from the beginning and it follows us through our walks with Christ.  It isn’t a bonus I get now that I know Jesus.  Grace is the whole reason I can know a life-giving, life-saving Savior and be here serving on MS, processing these events.  His grace in my missing coffee and receiving a fresh bag of Starbucks is an example of His kindness expressed to me through Christ- as small a gift as it is, I love Him that much more for it.  His grace is necessary for as long as I am on this earth, I just need to humble myself to accept it.  My dependence needs to be on Him more than myself, and release the “cookie cutter” version of myself I want to display for everyone.

The other thing in this too is that there was nothing I could do to get myself out of my funk.  It was all God’s grace that changed my attitude.  His grace is quieting, it stills you, like a tight hug when you feel like your body is trying to go a thousand places at once. There’s definitely more to this lesson, but for now I’m enjoying the walk with my Lord.  

Touchdown in Mada!

About a week late on posting, but I’m thrilled to say we’ve made it safely to our port in Madagascar for the next 8 months.  Our first day here consisted of welcoming the president and prime minister aboard for a tour, with a celebratory program that followed.  Madagascar is celebrating “The year of volunteer,” and the arrival of Mercy Ships basically started this off.  The president has been an incredible ally for us, offering services we’ve never received in prior field services; they’ve painted and repaired several aspects of a warehouse we need to use, they’re developing means of transportation for people that need to travel from different parts of the country to get screened at the ship.  Praise God for people who are for us. 

A view from our tent at the celebration

I was able to attend the celebration after the president toured.  The entire crew (about 300) had to basically keep in hiding while the tour was happening, so everyone was getting ready and traveling between certain stair cases; it kind of reminded me of something out of Harry Potter.  So the celebration was a large gathering here in Tamatave, located in this large quad area with a stage where several people gave speeches in Malagasy; we understood none of it.  We could pick up “Mercy Ships” every so often.  Some of us walked back with the person who had been briefing us on the Malagasy culture, so he showed us places to go and where to avoid.  He specifically pointed out a clean, attractive looking restaurant and told us none of the MS crew were allowed to go there or even order from that place.  This restaurant was positively notorious for being the place to pick up prostitutes- heart breaking. 

The people are first off, beautiful.  They have a very stoic demeanor; they observe, and can look very serious at times.  If any of you know my default death glare I can have when I’m focused or on a mission- that doesn’t even compare.  Luckily, a smile is usually the key to break that; attempt to converse in Malagasy and it’s like you’re the most entertaining person they’ve met that day- they act very surprised when you spout off a few Malagasy words.  But really, they greatly appreciate any attempt to become more familiar with them as a people and ethnic group.  It’s very sweet actually.

First day of exploring

This week the mission for us nurses is to clean the hospital and start setting up! We literally wiped everything down in bleach, the cabinets, the walls, the bed springs, the toys, even the ceiling- TWICE!  We are welcoming the day crew, who are paid volunteers from Madagascar to basically act as our translators and extra hands around the ship.  They work in the hospital along with several other departments. 

Transporting some suction containers

I became electrician for a day too!  The nurses had a “Bless the crew day” this past week, where we volunteered with other departments while some made cards for all the departments.  I changed light bulbs with 3 other nurses while the Chief Electrician took us under his wing and taught us a great deal of his trade.  His story is incredible.  He and his family lived in South Africa, had to wait years to be accepted to Mercy Ships.  Once they were accepted, they sold everything! They sold their house, cars, and belongings.  He and his wife and kids all came to the ship with two bags each to their name.  They came from a society with some remaining apartheid thinking.  He told us some of his family has disowned them because of the work they do for the poor people of Africa; they don’t think it’s right. 

Talk about taking a step of faith and suffering for the Lord.  I’m blessed to know this man, he has enriched my life.  He’s offered to make us some “real” coffee, not just the ship stuff, and I can’t wait to take him up on that.  I think I said in a previous post, the coffee isn’t quite like the Keurig from home, it’s really not even like the 7-eleven either. Hahaha, but I didn’t come here for the coffee now, did I?

Preparing to set out with the lightbulbs

A few thoughts on worship

Worship aboard the Africa Mercy is an experience of praise I have never experienced before.  On the AFM, you can see that people love Jesus.  People talk about Jesus, you see people praying, countless people with their Bibles and journals out in the café, but once you bring us all together for some worshiping, the community gets taken to a whole new level.

Yesterday marked my second time of worship on the ship, we were worshiping the night before we got into Madagascar.  The first time was my first full Sunday and there was a scheduled time of worship out in the café lobby, an open place where people can congregate on level 5 in the Starbucks café and on deck 6 in midships, but still see down into the cafe.  It fills up quickly and there’s people everywhere, sitting against walls, on the stairs, leaning on the rails.  Someone picks up a guitar, someone maybe gets on the bongo drums, and singing ensues.

The songs are the typical worship songs, some newer ones I don’t know, others are old favorites.  I think my favorite part is looking over all the people from so many different countries, worshiping in one room for one God.  As soon as I close my eyes the ship goes away and all I can see and feel is light and His people worshiping before His great throne.  God smiles and our voices rise that much higher and more harmonious that it has to be close to what heaven sounds like. 

Those glimpses of heaven don’t come often; it’s in the quiet of a morning sunset before we reach the dock in Madagascar, it’s in the vast expanse of the ocean, it’s in the silence of the stars in the middle of the ocean, it’s in a prayer in a different language yet felt just as clearly in the soul as though you were praying it yourself. 

Worship is rejuvenating, it’s what we were created to do in the first place; enjoy our Father.  And that’s all I got to say about that.

This is Ephesians 3:2 written down in the engine room of the ship.
"assuming, by the way, that you know God  gave me the special responsibility of extending His grace to you Gentiles."