Thankful Thursday - TWO FER!

Today's FIRST "Thankful Thursday" actually began on Saturday while Micah and I were volunteering at New Life Family Services "Walk for Life".  While manning the food station, we met a young woman, E., who had come to the walk with a group from Teen Challenge.  What caught my eye was that she had gone to the hair painting station and gotten every section of her French braid spray painted a different color.  It was absolutely lovely and I told her so.

After the race she stopped back to ask me some questions about New Life and if they had anything for women who had had abortions because she had "this friend" who had had an abortion.  I knew New Life had a program, but I didn't remember the name as I'm an adoptive parent, but I encouraged her to ask any staff member (wearing the black t-shirts marked "STAFF") and they would be able to help her.

Not one to miss an opportunity, after E. left, I went over and asked a staff member the name.  The program for post-abortion survivors is called "Conquerors."  Now I knew . . . 

And on my way to the bathroom, who should be standing in front of me, but E..  I was able to share "Conquerors" with her and she shared with me that she was the one who had had the abortion, not a friend, and how hard it still was twenty years later.  I, in turn, shared with her that while I had never had an abortion, we had turned down a baby before Matt, and I knew the feeling of being between a rock and a hard place with no idea of where to go.  Fortunately, Sam and I had had godly counsel available to us to help us make our decision.  And our consequences, while different, didn't lesson the pain of losing a child.  E. hadn't had godly council available to her, nor had she known Jesus then and she was still in pain.  

With wonderment, because she hadn't been condemned by "the godly', she told me she was at Teen Challenge.  She was there for 14 months.  She had been doing drugs.  And she needed a sponsor.  Would I be willing?  

I tell you what - I saw no flashing lights saying, "NO! NO! NO!"  I heard no voice from heaven saying, "NO! NO! NO!".  And when I got home and talked to Sam, he said, "Did you know they are looking for math (his background) tutors, too?  Maybe we could go together."   

So I filled out my application, heard I got an excellent reference from a good friend, and now I wait patiently - THANKFUL that I was there when E. needed me, and I was able to offer grace and acceptance and maybe even more in the future.  Stay tuned . . .

THANKFUL THURSDAY NUMBER TWO:  Happened yesterday when I was able to take Rachel - of Night Watch fame! - to the airport!  I worked until 4:00, picked her up and got her to the airport by 5:00, with the most glorious conversation on the ride!  I thank God for the honor and privilege of being her Sand Creek Mom (see Tuesday's post).  I also thank God that He nudged me and yesterday morning, I MADE all the guys at work sign a farewell card for her!  And I'm thankful for the boss who slipped a $20.00 bill in the card before I sealed it - because what college student couldn't use an additional $20.00 on her way to India!?!

The Sand Creek Mom

Is me!  I discovered this on Sunday at Jake's graduation party.  Seriously, introducing myself to two different people at two different times in two different locations with, "Hi, I'm Margo . . .", I got right back at me, "You're the Sand Creek Mom!" followed by "It's so nice to meet you!"

Truthfully, I struggled with this "new" work title - I just wanted to be everyone's co-worker and all of a sudden I felt old - like a mom!  But then I began to think about the things I do for the people I work with - sending Kaylee and Caleb texts on their birthdays, bringing Rachel to the airport tomorrow, asking people about special events in their lives, texting Calvin his first day at a new job - and yup, I'm "momming" 'em!  To God be the glory!

 

2016 Walk For Life

Today was our adoption agency's "Walk for Life" at Lake Nokomis and Micah and I volunteered - to face paint!  Thursday night we were asked if we were willing to switch to food.  Of course, we said yes and had a blast!  Check out the pics . . .

Here we are surrounded by coffee, water, bagels, bananas and granola bars!

This is with our adoption social worker, Brita, who is back at New Life - and I quote her, "Until retirement!"  Her youngest, Miles is one month younger than Matt and we had a lovely time catching up!

We now have a new post adoption social worker whom I have yet to meet, but this happens to be her husband - after I convinced him to get the beard colored blue!  The hair was his idea!  "Smurf up!"

The Night Watch . . .

The first time God ever called me to "The Night Watch" was at Eagle Lake Camp in Colorado back in the 1980's.  At the exact same time, in the wee hours of the morning, when I was awake and praying for my friend Becky, she and her baby almost died during the emergency delivery.  But God heard my prayers . . . and those of many others . . . and spared Becky and her daughter.

Fast forward to Wednesday night, actually early Thursday morning.  And I had the overwhelming burden to pray for my co-worker from Sand Creek, Rachel, based on our conversation earlier that day.  So I prayed and I prayed and I prayed - for a solid hour I interceded on her behalf.  Then I texted her the next morning and asked her if God had done anything exciting in her life between the hours of midnight and 1:00 a.m.  You don't have to read any further to know that He did - but hey, let's praise an awesome God together!  Here's Rachel's response:

"God actually did some crazy things!  In fact, right in those hours, thank you!  I heard back from the Northwestern Study Abroad person and she was going to try to call the (India) embassy to expedite things.  Then I was able to get a hold of a Karunya representative (a college in India) on WhatsApp and their finance team drafted a special doc for me.  And finally this morning they managed to get me the original doc requested too!  Thank you so much!  God is crazy good!" 

You see, Rachel is trying to study abroad this fall and she's been working with her parents who are missionaries in Cameroon and the university in India while living in Minnesota - and no one's time zone matches!  So she needed a Divine intervention . . . which God so graciously provided!  Do I hear an "amen"!?!

 

ER TIme in the Scooby Doo Room!

I called home this afternoon to let them know I had left Sand Creek and Micah was a bit hysterical - Sam had been sharpening the mower blades and the mower fell off the saw horse putting a big gash in his face.  At that point I was less than five miles from home.  She said he said he needed stitches, Matt wasn't home and she didn't want to drive him.  So I hurried home . . .grabbed a couple of good books to read and headed off to the ER with Sam!  He got put in the Scooby Doo Room (obviously, no children were there at that time) where he received three stitches just under his nose!  The good news - it REALLY wasn't a big gash and they didn't have to shave his mustache!

Fred is pointing to the wound.

Thankful Thursday!

Besides the obvious . . . 

• Thankful for a clean house;
• Thankful that before we go to bed tonight Micah will already have one of her papers done for next school year; and
• Thankful for an empty pool this morning;

. . . I am thankful for the lives I get to touch at Sand Creek Adventures!  Yesterday morning I sent a group of IT specialists from all over the United States down the zip line.  It's amazing what fear shares as you're standing on the platform looking down and I'm so thankful that Emma Jane's daddy successfully made it down the third zip!  After the IT group, it was a group of kids from Owatonna on the low ropes course followed by a girls' empowerment group on the low ropes.  A smile, an encouragement, a life touched.  Have a great day!  I'll be back at Sand Creek tomorrow . . . 

Hoanaky

Today's post has been reblogged from "Through My Porthole".  On my bucket list - some day, some where in Africa - is going to a dress ceremony!

As I sat at my desk writing Hoanaky’s story, the sweet lilting sound of African voices drifted up the ship’s stairwells from the hospital deck. Irresistibly drawn below, I encountered a sight that reminds me of all the reasons I have served with Mercy Ships for almost 3 decades. A cluster of tiny Malagasy women recovering from their obstetric fistula (OBF) surgeries were singing, clapping, swaying their way along the corridor. I understood enough to recognise Thank you Jesus and I’m very happy, but there was no misinterpreting the utter joy radiating from each beautiful face, young and old.

Hoanaky suffered a long labour. K Keegan

This is one woman’s story which echoes in the lives of thousands of her sisters.

Hoanaky labored hard for four days in her remote village in Madagascar’s far south.  Exhausted, she finally delivered a still-born baby.  Hoanaky’s loss was compounded by the impact of her traumatic delivery.  The prolonged pressure of the baby’s head caused the wasting of internal muscle and tissue, creating an abnormal opening between her bladder and birth canal.  Hoanaky had developed an obstetric fistula. At the age of 26, she was permanently incontinent.

This gentle woman became shrouded in hopelessness.  Neither Hoanaky nor her mother had ever heard of another woman with this condition.  There was nowhere to turn for help.

Life as she knew it ended. In a nation when incontinence products are practically unheard of, Hoanaky’s injury made it impossible to go about her day-to-day activities. She leaked urine uncontrollably and smelled terrible. “I was always staying at home. I could never go to the market or anywhere,” she recalls. “I didn’t have a life anymore.” Ashamed, Hoanaky sequestered herself in the thatched hut she shares with her mother and daughter.

She received free corrective surgery at the clinic Mercy Ships established. Pic Justine Forrest

Months later Hoanaky’s mother heard talk that perhaps Mercy Ships could help her daughter. Together they attended a patient screening.  Hoanaky received an appointment and transportation to the far-away hospital ship on the coast.

Hoanaky journeyed with two ladies from her region for five days. As time passed they told shared stories and the three realised they had a similar tale to tell.  Suddenly Hoanaky was no longer isolated by the belief she was the ‘only one’.

When the trio reached the Mercy Ship they embarked on a journey to healing. Free obstetric fistula surgery mended their physical injuries, and the compassionate medical team encouraged the recovering women in regaining confidence. The gentle, fun-loving nurses nurtured each broken woman towards rediscovering they are “beautifully and wonderfully made.”

Mercy Ships holds a celebration for each group of women ready to head home; a Dress Ceremony. Each restored woman accepts a brand new outfit symbolizing her new beginning. For many this is the solitary time they have ever possessed first-hand clothes, and the elation radiates from their faces.

“Without the surgery I would be like a person already dead. Now I will live like everybody, like I have a normal life!” Hoanaky declares with delight.

Hoanaky and her friends had received their longed-for opportunity to begin again.

The outward reflection of her inner transformation

                            Hoanaky’s plight is echoed by  

200 girls and women each day 

who developed obstetric fistulas in sub-Sahara Africa and Asia,

The establishment of a fistula clinic in Madagascar 

is part of the Mercy Ships strategy 

to bring sustainable healthcare to this nation.

Happy Father's Day!

Today's post is reblogged from our friend Keith Brinkman's blog and it's a wonderful salute to father's!  Have a lovely father's day!

After great comments on last month’s update on mothers who have come with their children to the Africa Mercy for hope and healing, this month I will focus on fathers.  Today is Father’s Day in the US and in South Africa where we are presently.  Any patient coming to receive surgery who is under 18 years old is required to have a caregiver.  The caregiver may be a mother, father, uncle, aunt, grandparent, older sibling.  This month, I wish to share about Frederic & Clementine, a father whose daughter received healing on board in Madagascar.

Clementine’s family lived a very simple life farming beans, rice and peanuts. Born with a bilateral cleft lip and palate – two splits from her upper lip to her nose and a hole in the roof of her mouth – Clementine found eating and speaking very difficult. Local doctors explained to her father, Frederic, that the only thing that could fix Clementine’s lip and palate was a very costly surgery in a hospital far from their village. Such a surgery was far beyond the family’s reach financially.   “As her father, I'm sad I can't protect her (from the teasing),” shared Frederic. “We couldn’t do anything. We live so far away!”  After learning of Mercy Ships and within two weeks after her arrival, Clementine was onboard the hospital ship to have her free surgery. Afterward, Clementine began working with a speech therapist to learn how to use her newly constructed palate. Years of speaking with a hole in the roof of her mouth made it a challenge to use her new palate, but Clementine worked as hard at her therapy as she did in her studies and achieved great results. Slowly she learned that all the sounds that were difficult for her to make prior to surgery were a lot easier to make now that her palate was closed. Finally, the day came for Clementine and Frederic to return home. They stopped at the market, and Clementine browsed through the display of earrings. The choices seemed endless. She finally settled on a dangling silver pair with pink stones. As she put them up to her earlobes, she beamed up at her father. Frederic’s heart melted as he realized that just six weeks ago, his daughter had a very different appearance. He returned her smile and said, “Every time you see these earrings, you’ll remember our journey and adventure.” As they departed from the market with Clementine’s new earrings, Clementine hugged her father tightly. His courage and sacrifice in bringing her to the ship had made her new life possible. She would never forget this daddy-daughter adventure, the adventure that changed her life.

What if . . .

What if you woke up today

with only

the things 

you thanked God for yesterday?

We love our postman!

Our postman - who I wave to while walking Annie at least two or three times a week - just stopped by!  I had forgotten to put a stamp on our niece's graduation card - and her party was June 4!  So he waited at the door while I went and got a stamp to put on the envelope and then he took it with him!  What a nice man!  

Then I promptly e-mailed our niece to let her know where her card was!

Thankful Thursday!

I am thankful for the eighteen delightful students we trained in as Water Safety Aides at District 196 this week - five guys and 13 girls!  They were a neat group! 

Successful outreach!

The Africa Mercy has now completed her second field service in Madagascar and is presently under maintenance in Durban. In early August the ship will sail to Benin to commence a 10-month field-service.

During the recent field service in Madagascar (July 2015 to May 2016) the following was achieved:

• 917 maxillofacial Surgeries
• 473 Women’s Health Surgeries
• 238 Plastic Surgeries
• 817 General Surgeries
• 162 Paediatric Orthopaedic Surgeries
• Over 12,000 Dental patients including 1319 dental hygienist interactions
• 1000s trained and mentored in ways that will enhance their ability to provide safe surgical care to thousands more.
• A surgical clinic was renovated and filled with expertly trained Malagasy nurses who will go on to treat some of the 2,000 new cases of obstetric fistula that will form in the coming year. This is now being operated by another charity Freedom from Fistula

Madagascar’s population is one of the poorest globally and there are approximately 15,000 children and adults disabled from clubfoot, with an estimated 1,000 children born here with the condition each year. The cost of treatment is often prohibitive for many families with an average income.  Mercy Ships has been a part of Tamatave’s first ever clubfoot clinic –  and with the support of International NGO, Miraclefeet, the work will go on for years to come.
 
Behind these statistics are people.  medical personnel, cooks and cleaners, deck crew and engineers and a myriad of other support staff who keep the ship operating so that Mercy Ships can fulfil its mission of “following the 2000 year old model of Jesus, bringing hope and healing to the world’s forgotten poor.” They are volunteers who pay their travel costs and also pay to live aboard. And of course there are the patients whose receive treatment ...  and there are our wonderful supporters!  We cannot do it without them.

Andre

This post is reblogged from "Through My Porthole".  To God be the glory!

We’re not supposed to have favourites, but I discovered a very special place in my heart for André . I watched him transform so remarkably that it made me ache a little.

You can always hear André  singing before you see him –  but that wasn’t always the case.

Andre; ready to head home after his life-changing surgery and physio. Pic Justine Forrest

André was only six when his life radically changed. He and his brother were playing at a friend’s house when André leaned against a shelf holding an oil-filled lamp. When flaming oil spilled down his neck and shoulder his older brother saved him from worse injury by stripping off the burning nylon jacket Andre was wearing. But the little boy was left with deep and painful burns.

There was no medical help available in his Malagasy village, so his family did the best they could. The traditional healer said spitting into the open wound would make it heal. So that is what they did. Often. “It doesn’t work,” André declared adamantly, “It makes it bigger!”

Andre ready to head home. Pic Justine Forrest

André was disabled by the enormous scars from the severe burn and resulting infection. His lower jaw pulled towards his chest. His upper right arm, shoulder and neck were immobilised. People were not kind to the injured child. “They kept their distance,” he remembers. As he grew older he lived alone. “I could not face people. I was shy because of my neck and arm, and would not go to public places because people looked at me. I was hiding – alone and ashamed.”

One day André heard healing could be found on the Mercy Ship – but no one would help him get there. He did not know the way and no one would accompany him to the coast. He was distraught.

Then a total stranger offered to travel with him. Suddenly André’s hope became reality. This was just the first of many ‘strangers’ who cared for him. On the Mercy Ship this gentle, engaging man underwent complex surgery. He was nursed by other ‘strangers’. Then more people he did not know taught André to exercise and gain new movement in his arm and shoulder after his surgery. In turn André taught us about overcoming with a sweet spirit.

For the first time in more than 30 years, André can lift both his arms high. “I feel really good to be able to straighten my head,” he adds. “My eyes were painful before, because of the contracture. I can move my arm now. I haven’t been able to do this since I was six years old, since I was burned!”

Andre hadn’t thrown a ball since he was a little boy. Pic Justine Forrest

The Class

If you want to know that the God I serve is faithful, then read this post.  Because, you see, from the time Matt was in first grade until he finished fourth grade, I taught his Sunday school class at livingWATERS.  

Last night at her sister's wedding, the maid of honor gave such a strong testimony to the love of God and His faithfulness, that I wanted to cry.  She was in my class all four years.

At a graduation party this afternoon, one of the girls told me about a Bible study she and her roommate led at college - SDSU to be specific.  She was in my class all four years.

I also found out that one of my friend's daughters had just left for basic training, but would be beginning at Bethel in the fall.  She was in my class all four years.

Why Matt doesn't have this testimony yet, I don't know.  I pray he will one day soon.

However, it makes me look forward to Micah's Sunday school class that I taught at Trinity from the time she was in third grade until she finished sixth grade.  I know what I prayed for that group and I know the God I serve is faithful to answer! 

 

What Happens When Women Pray

"What Happens When Women Pray" is a book written by Evelyn Christianson that I read years ago.  And I thought about that this weekend while I was at various graduation parties, specifically while talking to women I had prayed with once upon a time.  For whatever reasons, our paths no longer cross frequently like they once did, but what I do know is this, "What happens when women pray?"

 Their hearts bond - forever!

Thankful Thursday!

I am thankful for this wonderful glorious day, where our house is clean, my French and Spanish lessons are done and our supper is marinating!  I'm thankful for the friend who is picking me up tomorrow for a wedding so Sam can meet me there.  I'm thankful for a son who knows his blood borne pathogens and for a daughter who has just finished her sophomore finals.  And I'm thankful for the little black lab who woke me up in the middle of the night to let me know it was storming! 

The Red Bucket

In our neighborhood, there's a red bucket.  Actually, a big red bucket.  A bucket that was bought for Scott's graduation party the last year Lakeville graduated from just one high school.  And that bucket is filled with all sorts of wonderful things that make a graduation party successful - from confetti to centerpieces to wall hangings to balloon anchors.  And after every party, it gets fuller and fuller and fuller.  We just pass it from family to family and share the gift.  And it is good.  To God be the glory.

The Mother-In-Law

At Sand Creek on Saturday we had a bridal party complete with bridesmaids, mother-of-the-bride, the bride, one friend, and the mother-in-law.  We were at the high ropes course and I was launching (i.e. starting people off).  Part way through, Jake (our only male staff down there) came up on the launch pad and said, "Margo, that mother-in-law doesn't like me."  And he proceeded to tell me what she had said - and it was questionable.  So when I finished launching I joined Jake on the ground (can you say "body guard"?).  And sure enough, we had four staff on the ground, three of us totally focused on mother-in-law's little girl and Jake was saying something to me and mother-in-law POUNCED!  She laid in to Jake, "Why aren't you paying attention to my daughter?"  I calmly turned to mother-in-law and said, "We have three staff focused on your daughter.  I think she'll be okay."  Mother-in-law sat down and shut up.  Yikes!  Glad she's not mine!  

Sasiline Live!

Sailine

Today's delightful story is reblogged from "Through My Porthole."  It's a winner!

sas·sy  ˈsasē/  adjective  informal

1. lively, bold, and full of spirit; cheeky.

Sasiline’s personality is perfectly described in her name.  

I wish you could have met Sasiline. It just warms my heart to know her future looks a whole lot different than it did several months ago. Hopefully you can catch a wee glimpse into how completely and utterly her life has changed …

A small girl with a big laugh. Pic Justine Forrest

Like little girls all over the globe, Sasiline loves making mud pies with her friends. She plays soccer, too. But, in her remote Madagascan village, the children use plastic bags wrapped tightly together because no one has a ball. And just like any typical eight-year-old, Sasiline dreads her household chores. Sometimes she helps sweep the packed mud floor of the two thatched rooms that her nine-member family calls home. Twice a day she scoops a bucket of water from the river, then walks the track home, carrying the heavy bucket on her head. “The water isn’t safe to drink,” commented her mother, Joceline. “It must be boiled.”

But one job Sasiline never does is helping to collect wood for the cooking fire. When she was two, Sasiline tripped over the family fire. The toddler thrust her hands forward to save herself from falling – and plunged her right arm into a pot of boiling water.

There is no medical care in their mile-high countryside village. In fact, it is a three-hour walk to the nearest town. Jocelin was distraught and did the best she could, but she had no knowledge of what would help her little girl. The family eventually found a traditional healer who used many treatments and substances on the deep burns, but the wounds became badly infected. Massive scarring developed, turning the area across her bent elbow into an immobile web. Sasiline’s hand became frozen backwards, as scarring bound her wrist and fingers.

When the pain eventually diminished, Sasiline learned how to perform tasks using her left hand. She was keen to attend school, but she often came home crying, “The other kids are making fun of me because of my arm!” she exclaimed.

Sasiline’s arm & hand were immobilised by burn scars. Pic J Forrest

The family had no hope that the future would ever be any different for Sasiline. Then an unexpected phone call came from her grandfather. He had heard about the free medical work Mercy Ships was doing to restore injuries like Sasiline’s. Jocelin could hardly believe the good news. “We really have to go because we’ll never find the money to fix her hand,” she exclaimed.

So mother and daughter set off as the sun rose to catch a crowded old mini-bus from town. They bounced all day and all night over rutted and muddy dirt roads, venturing far beyond any place that was familiar. They attended a Mercy Ships patient screening and were given the precious appointment to see a surgeon. Another all-day bus ride over “very bad” roads took them to the capital city, and then they made the final nine-hour journey to the Mercy Ship. They were exhausted, but elated. “I am very excited about this surgery,” Jocelin announced. “We have been waiting a long time.”

Sasiline and her mother had never been in a car or used electricity, and learning how to use the hospital ship’s “western toilet” was a source of great amusement. They received boundless comfort from nurses and patients alike, and the insecure Sasiline gradually transformed into a boisterous, sparkling child.

Sasiline worked hard in physio. Pic Justine Forrest

As Sasiline’s burn contractures were extensive, releasing her fingers and her elbow required a series of complex surgical procedures. First the scarring over her elbow, wrist and fingers was removed to allow her limb to regain normal extension. Next, skin grafts were taken from her thighs to repair her arm.

After surgery, Sasiline declared with a loud laugh, “Mum, my arm is straight now!”

When she was finally able to start moving her thumb she was ecstatic. She ran and showed her new movement to everyone she could find. She bravely pushed through pain barriers and was excited about her progress after being ‘stuck’ as long as she could remember.

Nowadays, Sasiline is heard before she is seen. She enthusiastically participates in creative challenges set by the hand therapist. The rehabilitation team tenderly treat her scarring, play games, tickle her tummy, and  remind her of all she can achieve.

Sasiline is now able to fully flex her elbow. Her wrist is healed in the correct position, and exercises are focusing on developing her fine motor skills. The peals of giggles that precede Sasiline reveal both the healing and the acceptance she has found on this vessel of mercy.

Sasiline has regained use of her arm & hand. Pic Justine Forrest

Where to donate . . .

Blood, that is!  We hit the American Red Cross mobile blood unit parked outside of Culver's this afternoon - and we both got iron pricked twice.  Micah failed both pricks and wasn't able to give blood.  I passed my second one and gave again while Micah took the car and ran errands for us before coming back to pick me up.  The good news is - for both trying and for giving - we each got a free pint of Culver's custard!  Way better than the normal stale treats!  

Thankful Thursday!

I am thankful for a daughter who did not freak out when I double-checked with Elaine last night to confirm the date of her son's grad party!  It's tomorrow night, not next Friday night like we thought - when school was out and she had all day off to bake.  So Micah came home from school today and started baking cookies right away - listening to KTIS and singing Jesus songs at the top of her lungs!  What a delight!  She'll begin frosting them after supper because she wants to give blood with me tomorrow at 4:00 p.m. - at Culver's!  I'm hoping for custard and she's hoping to find out her blood type!  Stay tuned . . . 

Farewell from Deb

My friend nurse Deb Louden will be leaving the Africa Mercy to return home to Australia.  I've included her farewell blog here, reblogged from "Deb's Heart in Africa".  Blessings to you, my friend, as you journey home . . .

I’m sitting here on my bed with my last nursing shift in my favourite hospital in the world looming before me. I struggle for the words to express what I’m feeling. I have loved every minute in the wards and now I’m wondering where all my knowledge on this maxillofacial specialty will go, for it is not useful in the general paediatrics ward at home where I will return to. I think one of the things that I am struggling with most as I look ahead is knowing that I walk away from a place where I am sought after for information and knowledge of my specialty. I know most of the surgeries we do and the nursing care specific to it inside and out, but I am about to walk out of that position, to be the one again who asks one hundred questions every shift until I know again. It’s not just at work though, it’s in life. After more than five years here I have built this community of the ship around me. I walk the hallways and know who has just arrived, who has been here for the last outreach or even years before me. I can greet everyone, knowing that if they are new on board how they might be feeling and I’m able to share knowledge of how to live life well in this community and soon I will be the one who needs help and adjustment. I will return home to a physically familiar environment, but feel like an alien. I already know because when I have returned home in the past years I feel out of place and uncomfortable in my own country. It only makes it worse that I have an Australian accent because there seems to be no excuse for my lack of knowledge or confusion over how to order a drink or pay for a meal (before we eat or after we eat? to tip or not to tip? to speak English or French or Malagasy?).

 

Once I have returned to Australia I am sure there will be memories of my travels or time with Mercy Ships sparked by a conversation or comment and I won’t know whether to pipe up and add to the conversation or just to let the moment pass, knowing maybe those I am with will not understand and my comment will require too much explanation. So I will keep it to myself but then I will feel a part of myself dying. How will I know when to speak up without making it a conversation killer when the others don’t know how to respond? How many times can I say, “When I was on the ship….” Before people start internally rolling their eyes and wishing I’d shut up?

I think living on this ship, being in this community and loving on the people of Africa has changed me beyond anything I could imagine. I have experienced the deepest feelings of my life in this place. Loving so hard that it feels impossible to say goodbye. Hurting so deeply that I feel like I might break into physical pieces. The tears have come more freely, sparked by little things like singing a song that reminds me of a patient I loved.

I have wondered how it would feel saying goodbye to this place I call home. Last week I stood in front of about 150 friends and crewmates, many of them the best friends a girl could have. They are people who understand me in my deepest part. They've seen my heart rejoice and my heart ache. I stood in front of them to be formally farewelled from the ship. As the complimentary words of my amazing team leader were read over me, I could barely look up to meet the crowd in the eye for fear of dissolving into a massive puddle of ugly tears. So instead I hugged my arms around my chest to hold myself together. I pushed all the emotion down, for another time, another place, every now and then letting a tear or two slip out.

I suppose most people have walked through periods of life like this, where they feel overwhelmed with emotion to the point of breaking open exposing a deep vulnerability. I think of my friends who have lost siblings, friends who have lost children and babies, other who have lost their parents or grandparents. Most of my friends have had a deep ache of some sort, the breakdown of a relationship or a beloved pet die. The tender part is knowing when it is safe to speak up about our deepest hurts or feelings. Just as I want my friends to be my safe place for my deepest feelings, so do I want to be the safe place for them. Can we make a pact to always talk about the hard and vulnerable things together? About the things that make our blood boil? About the things that cause us to burst into tears? To not be afraid to speak.

I tell you because I want you to understand and I want to feel understood.

Serendipity

ser·en·dip·i·ty

ˌserənˈdipədē/

noun

noun: serendipity; plural noun: serendipities

1. the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way.

   "a fortunate stroke of serendipity"

Ah . . . serendipity!  That would be what happened when I walked the dog on Saturday past Elaine's house.  She and John were cleaning the garage getting ready for Josh's graduation party.  Annie and I stopped to chat and about fifteen minutes later, Elaine was over at our house borrowing all the decorations and stuff we had received for Matt's party last year so she could use it for Josh's party this year.

 

In the course of our conversation, Micah ended up showing Elaine pictures of the paw print cookies she made for Matt's party and last night Elaine stopped by and ordered "48 dozen cookies"!

 

We were a bit freaked out until she brought it down to 48 cookies - just four dozen!   After all, we are the Lakeville North Panthers and nothing makes a party like panther paw print cookie!  

 

Of course, our friends in Lino ordered Cougar paw print cookies - and they'll look exactly the same!