Hero

Nurse Ali Chandra is back after some time in England where her husband Phil received more training for his position on the ship.  I've re-blogged what she wrote for "Five Minute Friday":

We stood in the hallway together, a translator passing our words back and forth between us like an imperfect offering. I was explaining to her that we hadn't done the surgery we'd promised, that her little boy, already so broken, would come back to her with the roof of his mouth gaping just as wide as when she surrendered him into our hands.

Her gaze never faltered, clear and strong and confident, as she took my hand and told me that this, too, must have been God's plan. That if we could understand Him, He wouldn't be God anymore.

A lifetime stretched out in front of her, a lifetime of caring for her child who would never speak, never walk. A child who, I'd just finished telling her, would choke on his food and spit water out his nose forever, as if the rest weren't enough. And she just held my hand there in the hallway outside D Ward, unwavering as she reassured me that everything was going to be okay.

These are the quiet heroes, the mamas who will never have their stories trumpeted from the front page of a newspaper, the ones just going on with their lives in the face of pain and heartbreak that I can't begin to understand. They are everywhere; Nathanael's mama is just one of many that I've met and a myriad more whose paths I will never cross.

They cling to life in the face of a culture that speaks death over their babies, sheltering them from the stares and glares of the ones who would call them worthless. They tie their children to their backs for two or five or fifteen years, trudging through dusty streets to their place in the market where they pray a passerby will buy from them despite the curse they carry on their strong shoulders. They stand in line for days in hopes that we can help, and when we turn them away they hold their heads high so their children can't see their tears.

These are the heroes.

I had to laugh . . .

This is re-blogged from Krissy's blog - I haven't met her yet but we've e-mailed.  She just got back to the ship from Duluth (Minnesota!) and what she wrote just made me laugh - it's so Africa!  Enjoy!

Let me tell you about my morning.

It started off with me hitting the snooze button one too many times, which is dangerous with roommates and the morning getting-ready dance is pretty well orchestrated so as everyone gets enough bathroom time.  

The bathroom started to flood during my shower. This is not an uncommon occurrence, as we have a vacuum system for drainage (think airplane toilets complete with the very loud suctioning noise) and during peak shower times it just can’t keep up. 

Breakfast was disappointing… though I will not ever publicly complain about the food, I do miss being able to stock my own kitchen with whatever I want and being able to eat whatever in the mornings.

I had a meeting in town at 10am with a local rather-important-person.  I had made this appointment several days ago and spent quite some time typing up a full page of topics that needed discussing during this meeting.  I also booked out my car early (we have a set number of ships vehicles that can be reserved for business or personal use) so as to make sure I got one of the Toyotas.

Let me interject my morning story by telling you a bit about the cars. We have a fleet that can be categorized into four different levels.  The old Land Rovers are many, many years old, little to no AC, they are usually the dirtiest and just feel the clunkiest, the clutch is very stiff and the engine runs very loudly glub-glub-glubing down the street.  Then we have the newer Landies which are easier to shift, the AC usually works, and they are mildly more comfortable.  Then we have the new Toyotas which were just purchased less than a year ago, they purr like a kitten when you start them up and the clutch and gear shifts are so smooth it’s almost like driving a car, and the AC always works amazingly well.  VIP – there are two really nice Toyotas reserved for VIP and manager use but they are wider than the rest of the vehicles and I’m pretty frightened of putting a big scratch down the side so try to avoid them.

Okay, so now that the car explanation is out of the way, you can probably see why I sign out Toyotas early – they are the easiest to drive and the AC works!  Well, this morning, it was not to be. I got to reception only to find out that my reserved car had been taken out of service and I got stuck with one of the oldest Landies.  Swell. (Yes, I groaned and moaned and made a face, then told myself to suck it up and move on.)

Well, such is life, so I get into my old Landie with my translator (who I don’t really need but kind of like having around. His name is Francis and he’s like my little brother, he shows me shortcuts through traffic, corrects my French mistakes, and got me out of a sticky situation with a police officer one time… so he’s a good guy to have around).  Traffic seems exceptionally bad but I think to myself every time I’m stuck it seems exceptionally bad so maybe it isn’t exceptional and I should just start calling it usual… but I digress.  Sitting in Pointe Noire traffic with no air flow and no air conditioning isn’t fun.

We made it to our destination at exactly 10am.  This would never happen in the States as back there I am always at least fifteen minutes early to any meeting. Neurotic maybe. But here, it’s okay, because I’m guaranteed to have to wait in the outer office of this person for at least twenty minutes.   Its normal here, it’s cultural, and I’m totally prepared to sit in that office for about twenty minutes before seeing the person I’ve come to see.

An hour and forty-five minutes later I am still sitting in the outer office, and I’m fuming mad.  But not mad enough to leave because I don’t want to repeat this charade the next day and this meeting is actually really important.  And not really mad enough to throw a fit, because it’s at least a hundred and ten degrees where we are sitting and I’m about to pass out.  This is when I remembered with a cynical chuckle the happy pretty how-I-love-this-life blog post yesterday and I found myself thinking about how much I dislike this place, this cultural thing that makes it okay to make someone wait on an appointment for over an hour, this heat, this lack of a proper bathroom to at least try and mop up some of the sweat pooling in various and somewhat unfortunate places… this misery I’ve willingly chosen to participate in.

The meeting went fine once we finally got in but by this time I’m absolutely starving and need a bathroom and thought I would have long since been back on the ship, so I was likely a bit less sunshine-and-roses than my usual self. I was also really really glad to have a translator with me because my French began to fail me… blame the heat, I guess.

So finally we’re done and we go climb back into the old Landie and glub-glub-glub our way to the gas station, as when the tank gets ½ full we’re required to make the stop and today I drew the short straw.  Normally I don’t mind getting gas but again with the traffic, it took about thirty minutes to go a mile and a half.

Once I got to the gas station we had to wait in line for diesel, and there was of course only one attendant, so we’re sitting in this oven of a vehicle in the blazing noonday sun in the tropics.  Once we finally get up to where we can get our diesel, I can not, for the life of me, get the gas cap off the old Landie. (Incidentally, the Toyota gas caps are very easy to remove).  Usually when this happens I bat my eyelashes at the male attendant and he comes in and saves the day and takes it off for me.  But not today. Today (of course) the attendant was a woman, who looked at it and said, “I’m not doing it, you do it!” Awesome. So after some more finagling, trying to remember what the combination is of turning, pushing in, and pressure is, I get the thing open, only to find my hands suddenly covered in diesel as the pressure is released. 

Awesome. 

We get the fuel we need and carry on, sitting in traffic once again to return to the ship, and realize there is no way we will make it back before lunch is over. 

So at this point, try to imagine with me – I’m not moving in traffic in a Landie that is at least two hundred degrees with no AC, being cursed and honked at by other drivers because (gasp!) I try to drive like a normal sane driver (I can’t even begin to talk about the insanity of driving here) an am nearly hit about four times and frustrated to tears as I creep through an intersection that could easily be assisted by something as simple as a stop sign (and subsequent enforcement of said stop sign).  I’m sitting in a pool of sweat. I’m tired,  I need a bathroom, I’m absolutely ravenous, my mascara is literally melting right off my face, and I smell like diesel fuel.  (And I’m dehydrated and feel a headache coming on – a totally rookie mistake, though, no grace for that one. I know better than to go anywhere without a water bottle…)

Are you surprised I was questioning my calling and my sanity in that moment?  I confess the words “I hate this place” actually went through my head.

But they never escaped my lips, as they aren’t true.  Reality is, this morning isn’t really out of the ordinary, and I would never dream of complaining about these things except for the irony of yesterday’s blog post, and by way of contrast, todays.  Because goodness and joy really can be found in every situation. I really am grateful I have a car to drive and don’t have to take a local taxi, no matter how hot it is it is.  (And two hundred degrees might be a minor exaggeration.)  I’m grateful we even get breakfast and lunch served to us, and my missing lunch gave me a great reason to “have” to take my translator out to lunch, which was an enjoyable experience for us both.  I’m grateful I have running water and cleaning up the flooded bathroom isn’t really that big of a deal, and my roommates are pretty much awesome and we are good about giving grace to each other in bathroom collisions and the like.

So at the end of the day I can look back, roll my eyes and chuckle, and look forward with anticipation to whatever tomorrow brings.  It’s never boring, that’s for sure.

From the mouth of Matt . . .

Matt came in to the kitchen this morning and said, "You know, Mom, it's warmer in our freezer than it is outside.  In fact, it's 50 degrees warmer in our refrigerator than it is outside!"  

And that is the bitter cold truth . . .

A Look at Community . . .

This is re-blogged from my friend Australian nurse Deb Louden's blog, "Deb's Heart in Africa".  Read down a bit to get an update on the young mother she asked us to pray for.

Working in this hospital is very different to working in a hospital at home for several different reasons. I like to stand back and watch things going on in the wards, the interactions between patients and their caregivers, patients and others caregivers and patients and fellow patients. In so many little things I see sweet community at work.

 

Unlike at home, our patients lay in their beds’ side by side, talking about things like how they found Mercy Ships, how they felt about the way they looked before they got to have surgery, how much it would have cost them if Mercy Ships hadn’t turned up, how they became sick and so on. There are always conversations going on and sometimes I ask them what they are discussing- the other day it was Primus, the local beer and one time about the Chinese eating weird things like flies.

A fair number of patients in D ward (the Maxillofacial ward that I work in) each field service stay for an extended period of time, perhaps two to three months. These patients become part of our D ward family and although the patients in the beds beside them may come and go, community is still built amongst them.

This precious boy stayed with us from Nov-Jan

Other things in the ward community which are unique are the caregivers sleeping under the bed. When you are walking between patient beds’ you have to be careful that you don’t tred on limbs sticking out from underneath. I was walking between the beds one night shift, taking a patient’s blood pressure when I heard whimpering coming from under that bed. I looked down and saw a small hand under my shoe! Whoops! I quickly lifted my foot and the whimpering stopped and the hand disappeared back under the bed. Needless to say, I was much more careful about where I was walking from then on.

 

These caregivers also make up the community in the ward, caring for others children, showing the new patients how to do things as well as looking after their own relative.

There is practically no privacy in the hospital here. All the doctors’ rounds are in the same room and sometimes when we’re discussing something no so important, if others in the room are interested, they too will come and stand in on the conversation and sometimes give their opinion or their own translation.

Recently we had three patients stay on the ward in beds next to each other for a period of about three weeks. They all had had a similar procedure and all had a similar complication and the same treatment. During the day they all chatted with each other and played games together, treating each other like brother and sister, they teased and laughed together. On rounds one morning when the woman in the centre bed was told she could be discharged, she immediately turned to the guy in the bed next to her telling him that she’d won the competition. There were smiles all around and genuine joy at seeing her discharge and then the others too, one by one were able to discharge. But I will always remember the three of them together, doing what community here does best.

I love to walk into the ward and be welcomed by huge smiles, and joy-filled greetings. It hits me in the deepest part of my heart like a burst of sunshine. We are a family, one big community. We get to care for these people in their most vulnerable moments and we love on them until the minute they walk out of our lives, not just the ward.

That is what it is like to work in D ward.

A quick update on Angelique from my plea We Need Your Help: She's progressing but very slowly. In the last few days she has lost weight and so we are battling the unknown. Her wounds are slowly healing, but  her weight is swinging up and down. Please continue to pray for her. It is lovely to see her still happy, able to get in and out of bed easily and walking the four flights of stairs up to Deck 7 every day for sunshine and fresh air. Here she is with her mother, enjoying some outside time. Thank you for praying, please don't stop yet!!!

 

An Ear-y Tale . . .

The summer of my sixteenth year, I was a wedding waitress and as a thank-you gift to the waitresses, the bride gave us pierced earrings - only I was the only waitress without pierced ears.  That was quickly remedied - after all, I had earrings and I wanted to wear them.  

Fast forward around six years.  I was now the youth pastor at Granite Falls Lutheran when I found this verse:  

"But if the slave plainly says, ‘I love my master, my wife, and my children; I will not go out free,’ then his master shall bring him to God, and he shall bring him to the door or the doorpost. And his master shall bore his ear through with an awl, and he shall be his slave forever."  Exodus 21:5-6 (ESV)

And I thought, "Wow, that's what I want to be - God's forever" so I added another hole to my ear as a sign of my commitment to God.

It was 1987 when I got my ear pierced again - it's only been the left one after the first time.  I was getting married to Sam and as a sign of my commitment to him, I added another hole.

Twenty-five years later I found myself explaining this all to my daughter who said, "Mom, can I get my ear double-pierced as a sign of my commitment to God?" and I said, "Of course."  And then she said, "Do you want to get yours pierced again?"  And I thought, "Yes."  Only this time, it would not be a commitment, but a reminder.

You see, just before my eighteenth birthday, I was told that I would have at most twelve years of a normal healthy life left.  But I knew even then that I served a Mighty God and His plans were not necessarily the doctor's plans.  Today Micah and I went to Claire's and got our ears pierced because, friends, I am happy to say, 

I'm (almost!) 55 and still alive!

My reminder hurts just a bit, but I am reminded - to God be the glory! 

Maybe . . .

. . . we both shouldn't work at the Y

or maybe we just shouldn't work in the same department!

When school was cancelled last night due to cold

Matt was thrilled until I reminded him he had to work at 3:30 -

in fact, 2:30-3:30 was sort of an open hour that was being covered in house

because Matt couldn't get there any sooner than 3:30 due to school

which had been cancelled.

Our boss was thrilled when I told her that Matt could possibly come in earlier

The person who was staying that extra hour was happy, too, 

because her grandpa had just died . . .

And Matt?

He's the man!  He didn't even complain when he went in to work early!

January's Family Photos

Our family plan is to take a family photo every month this year and put it in the blog.

On the last day of 2012, we drew months and this month belongs to Micah.

Thank you, our delightful daughter with the darling fingernails,

for coming up with this plan and

Thank you, neighbor Nancy, for braving the cold and taking the photos.

January 2013

Flatulence . . .

I don't know if you have this problem at your house,

but we sure do!

We were leaving one night recently and 

Whoa!

Whoever lit up the entry way did a stellar job!

Micah blamed me,

but I convinced her it was Sam because he had just been standing there . . .

I put on my coat and

Whoa!

It turns out that the doggie doodoo I had collected early that morning

was still in my pocket and

it didn't just smell,

it STUNK!

Opps!

Praying Nutritionally . . .

Reblogged from "Deb's Heart in Africa" by Australian Nurse Deb Louden

Towards the end of last year I met a patient only a few years younger than myself. She already had two children, one five years old, the other three. The three year old was by her side, as was her mother. Her husband, she said, had abandoned her when her tumour started growing. It was eight years ago that some form of tumour began to grow from her maxilla (cheekbone) and out of her mouth. After spending a long time in a local hospital with little to no help and the tumour not reducing but actually growing in size, she came to us.

As the tumour grew, her small body shrunk and by the time she sat on the bed in our ward she was really just skin and bone. We spent a few weeks trying to fatten her up before we operated. It was a very delicate balance and we needed to remove the tumour before her body got too sick, but we needed her to be healthier before the tumour was removed so that she would heal well.

In the end, we had to remove the tumour before we could get her healthier, because we were running out of time. Much prayer went into the weeks and days before her surgery and God did amazing things for her. The surgery went better than expected and she was not even ventilated post operatively.

As the time has moved on, she has not yet gained weight even though we are trying so hard. Her wound has begun to break down and we desperately need you to pray for her.

As I looked after her tonight, I removed her bandages, and my heart sunk as I saw her face beginning to gap open. I can see that it’s from malnutrition that her body doesn’t have enough reserve to give her good healing. We’re doing the best we can for her with medicine and good care, but we need more and that’s where I need your help. Please pray for her! Think of her at every meal time, when you are giving yourself good nutrition to fuel your body, remember that she needs it too, perhaps more than us, who often eat because it’s time or because it tastes good.

Please help us by praying and you’ll be taking part in her amazing story of restoration.

Next time you're at the Y . . .

in Burnsville,

check out the lifeguard stand!

You might just see Matt there -

he got hired, oh . . .

about 20 minutes ago!

CONGRATULATIONS, MATT!

Friends through the thick and thin . . .

"Friends to the bitter end . . . "  Today after work I met three friends for lunch - two of whom I have known longer than I have known Sam - and it was good!

Seeing Double or . . .

. . . the "K's" have it!

I find it most interesting this session that I have at least one set of twins every day I teach swimming lessons. On Tuesdays, it's McKenzie and Kyleigh.  Thursdays, I have Aliana and Kaylee.  Fridays are a double bonus with Zoe and Kaylee and Gabe and Kennedy all in the same class!  Now if their mama didn't put a barrette in Kaylee's hair, I wouldn't be able to tell who was Zoe and who was Kaylee.  And if their mama didn't put them in different swim suits, I would never be able to tell McKenzie and Kyleigh apart.  (Ali and Kaylee and Gabe and Kennedy are NOT a problem - especially since Gabe is the only boy.)  But once they get wet, all of the "K" names are without a doubt - in every pair - the better swimmers! 

Oh so interesting . . .

While we were in Sierra Leone in 2011, we took the Summer Program kids to just one beach because it was easily accessible and fun - the Bureh Town Beach!  God was good and every time we went - seriously, I'm sure, due to tides and rainfall - the beach was different so it never felt like the same field trip over and over.  Even the ride had variations - a few protests, a couple of road stops, witch doctor sighting - so it was all good.  

Now it turns out that a surf resort has opened at the beach - http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/in-pictures-25635626 - I only hope they've cleaned the bathrooms! 

What's more better?

For my first (and only!) class of swimming lessons this morning, I had a pair of twins who go to afternoon kindergarten.  So I asked them that all important question - did you like not having school on Monday and Tuesday?  (For those of you who are reading this and are NOT from Minnesota, schools here were canceled on those two days due to bitter cold.)  I can't remember which twin turned to me and said, "No, I wanted to go to school because Tuesday was my sharing day."  So now we know - sharing day trumps snow day any day!  

LUCRECH

Written by Mercy Ships' writer Grace Antonini.  

He’s doing much better than yesterday,” Nick remarks, as he gently inclines five-year-old Lucrech’s thumb toward the pointer finger.

Nick is Lucrech’s physiotherapist onboard the Africa Mercy, and they have been spending a half hour together every day since his surgery. They work on exercises that will bring full function back to Lucrech’s right hand.

Today, Nick believes Lucrech is ready to touch each of his fingers to his thumb. It seems a small distance to cover – but, for Lucrech, it’s a milestone.  One by one, nurses and patients gather around the pair, and a sheepish grin sweeps across the little boy’s face.

Not very long ago, most eyes on Lucrech were critical eyes. The only words he heard from his schoolmates were unkind ones. His physical problem was a seemingly uncrossable dividing line, separating him from other children.

You see, three years ago, while reaching for his brother’s toy, Lucrech tripped, plunging his arm into a pot of boiling beans over an open fire.

Without a skin graft to prevent the raw wound from forming inflexible scar tissue, the skin across Lucrech’s palm tightened until each finger was pulled into a permanently bent position. This is called a burn contracture.

Mercy Ships volunteer surgeon, Dr. Tertius Venter, explains, “To treat an acute burn wound in the First World, we would quickly do a skin graft before a contracture forms. We’d treat it with physical therapy and occupational therapy, and then splint it. But, in many parts of Africa this is just not available. The only way that the body can heal itself and prevent infection is by pulling everything together to close the wound up.”

A few months ago, Lucrech decided he’d had enough of school. He couldn’t handle the negative attention anymore. His classmates ridiculed him because he could not write or throw a ball. His mother, Nadja, recalls, “He loves to play games, especially soccer – but he had to play alone.”
Today, the deep, fire-etched scars on the five-year-old’s right hand go unnoticed. The people gathered around Lucrech and Nick are too busy celebrating a true showstopper – those five freed fingers that can move, stretch, grasp, wiggle, point and tickle!

Nadja comforts her son with a pat on the head as he tries to touch his thumb to his ring finger…two down, two more to go. She is beaming from ear to ear and clapping her hands in expectation. When the two fingers touch, everyone bursts into applause, exclaiming, “Très forte, Lucrech! Très forte!” [Very strong, Lucrech!]


Lucrech looks around the room with a big smile, unable to resist the temptation to flex a bicep (much to the delight of his nurses).

Nadja laughs. “He forgets the pain because of the attention,” she says.

“Okay,” Nick continues, “last one. Can you try to reach your pinky finger to your thumb? No? I think you can!”

Lucrech drapes over Nick’s thigh, his head turned toward the camera with a grin. These exercises for his newly uncurled fingers are painful – but, when everyone tells him how strong he is, he smiles and tries harder.

The pinky and thumb touch to another round of applause. Lucrech wrinkles his nose in response and then runs off to join a noisy group of his pals from the ward.

A few weeks have gone by, and Lucrech is back from the Hope Center for his weekly physical therapy. Like a miniature whirlwind he jumps up into the arms of one of the Africa Mercy crew members. All traces of shyness are gone; he’s a veritable entertainer these days.

“What are you going to do now that you can use your right hand?” the crew member asks him.

“I want to go back to school to write!” he says. Then, with a heart-melting grin, he hugs her more tightly and adds, “I want to play ball with my friends, too!”

We have a Lifeguard!

Yes, dear friends, we have a lifeguard back in the family and praise God!  It's NOT me!  My lifeguarding expired in May of 2012 and I have had no regrets!  It was time to let it go . . .

A few weeks ago, I was talking to my "bosses" at the Y, Barbara and Lori, about Matt needing a part-time job and they practically jumped me!  Barbara wanted him to be a lifeguard and Lori wanted him to be a swim instructor - we're a little short staffed right now.  When I got home, I embellished the story a bit and told Matt my bosses were fighting over who would get him to work at the Y!  After a few days of conversation, Matt asked me to sign him up for the blended learning lifeguarding class to be held this past weekend at the Y.  

Monday through Thursday of this week, Matt spent daily time watching CPR-PR, First Aid and Lifeguarding videos.  Friday (after a full day at school) he went to class from 4-8 p.m. and passed the prerequisites.  Saturday and today he had class from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. and we're proud to say . . . he did it!

CONGRATULATIONS, MATT!

We do have an unemployed lifeguard on our hands, but he did send in his application to the Y when he go home . . . stay tuned!

We Voted . . .

overwhelmingly "YES!" as a congregation to offer Mike Shields the position of senior pastor at our church.  Now, he just needs to give us the same answer!

Excitement mounts . . .

You may or may not know, but our church has been without a senior pastor since June of 2012.  It's been an interesting time (and don't we all love that word - interesting!).  However, two weeks ago it was announced from the pulpit that we have a candidate and this morning Sam and I went to a time of "Meet the Candidate".  While we personally did NOT meet the candidate, we enjoyed hearing him speak and answer questions. What impressed us most is that he is REAL and his desire is to OBEDIENT to God and His Word.  Tomorrow, he will preach at both services and at noon we will have a congregational meeting to vote for the candidate.  At this point, we're leaning toward a definite, "YES!"

I love this picture!

It reminds me of the heart of God!

HAPPY 2014!

We have a plan - 

a family  plan!

Our goal

(certainly NOT a New Year's Resolution!)

is to post one family photo each month

right here on "What's Zup?"

We drew months and

January went to Micah 

So we'll see what she comes up with in the next thirty days.

Sam did see an "Awkward Family Photo" last night that he wants to duplicate when it's his turn - 

I told him if we had boas 

(as in constrictors not feather!)

around our necks it would be the end of our marriage!

Stay tuned . . .