A New Hope . . .

Today's post is reblogged from Holly Franklin's blog, "A Path to Mercy".  Holly is currently serving on the Africa Mercy as a radiology tech.  Don't let the length stop you from seeing God in action!

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.” -Romans 15:13

Yesterday morning, as I was filling our power injector with contrast, I saw something that I’ve seen a thousand times during the past 11 years…

A prism.

Normally, I would barely pay attention, 

but yesterday it was a powerful reminder from our Heavenly Father.

That after every storm, there is a new hope. That His promise remains.

Week 9 on the Africa Mercy started like every other week & in many ways, it was. 

Patients were discharged, others continued to heal & new patients were admitted.

But what began as a normal week, quickly turned into something more.

Thursday evening around 7:45, I received a page that I was needed in radiology for a stat CT. They believe a patient has had a stroke after her surgery to remove a thyroid tumor. Honestly, at home I wouldn’t think too very much about this, as we have a abundance of doctors, specialists, equipment, & resources. Here, on a ship turned hospital docked in Africa, it’s a different story. My first thought was, “Are we truly equipped to handle this type of situation on board? With no neurologist & limited resources?”…& then I remembered that we have some of the most skilled doctors in the world. Even though neurology isn’t technically their specialty, they are still equipped with more than enough knowledge to handle most situations.

While waiting for the scanner to boot up & for the patient to stabilize for transport, I wanted to go ahead & touch base with the radiologist who reports for us. I wanted to make sure that there was a radiologist available to read this exam as soon as we completed it. Time is precious with stroke patients. I was able to get in touch with them & they were prepared & ready to read the exam.

Or so I thought.

I completed the exam, sent the images over to the connecting drive & contacted the radiologist with all the patient information. Then I waited…& waited…& waited…

The report never came.

I had failed, plain & simple. I’m the only one on board who has the access to send images to the radiologist & the doctors were counting on me to get this exam reported. And I couldn’t. I had let them down. Did I really? No, because I did all I could at that moment. But I still felt like I was failing our patient & doctors. Shortly after 1 am, the doctor decided to call it a night in regards to waiting for the report & I headed back to my cabin. Even though the doctor had accepted the fact that we would be waiting until morning for the report, I set my alarm to wake up every 30 minutes to check my email for the report. Morning came & still no report. Even though I was still feeling like a total failure, I wasn’t able to stay in that mindset for too long as we had quite a few patients coming in for their screening CT & I was by myself in the department. Thankfully, everything went smoothly that morning with us only having one hiccup in the form of a blown vein.

Afternoon came & again, still no report. Undoubtedly something had happened on the radiologists end that had prevented them from reading the exam, but I was still checking my email every 30 minutes to an hour, just to make sure that as soon as I received it, I could pass it on to the doctors.

Not long after I had finally made it to my cabin, around 8pm, an announcement came over head:

“Attention all crew, attention all crew…Emergency Medical Team to OR 3 immediately…Emergency Medical Team to OR 3 immediately.”

I’ve never gotten down from my bunk as quickly as I did in that moment. I quickly threw on my scrubs & was on deck 3 in less than a minute…maybe even 45 seconds. Having a cabin that is merely 22 seconds (while casually walking, not running) from deck 3 definitely has it’s perks. I got the department unlocked & all of our equipment booting up. As it boot ups & warm ups were in progress, I headed next door to lab where I could hear our senior lab tech, Jenny, running around. As I rounded the corner, I almost ran into one of our anesthesiologist, Brian, who was bolting into lab to donate blood. I knew then that we must have an active hemorrhage…

To add to the intensity of an active hemorrhage from a major artery, we had a pipe burst & half of the OR was under a inch or so of water. So when I say I almost ran into Brian, I mean I literally almost ran into him. He had taken the quickest way to the lab, which involved running through the flooded hallway, so he was slipping & sliding his way into lab. He jumped up onto the table & was in the process of donating in no time.

And to add yet another level of intensity to this situation, the patient has a blood type of B+…which is a rare blood type…especially on a hospital ship…docked in Africa.

( Side Note: Here on the Africa Mercy, we crew serve as the blood bank. We are the only ones who donate blood for our patients. Anytime there’s a need for a transfusion, if there are limited units available of that blood type, the crew who are matches head to the lab to donate. )

Jenny was still by herself at this time, as I’m not even sure it had been a complete five minutes since the over head page, so I asked if there was anything I could do to help her while the scanner was warming up. She immediately sent me to find 2 of the crew that she knew had this blood type, as she had no time to check the computer at that moment.

I quickly ran up to deck 6, while skimming the rest of the ship on my way, where there was a on board ladies retreat going on, hoping to find these 2 crew we so desperately needed. I finally found one of them & was back to the lab as Brian was finishing up his donation. Again, he was off the table & out the door in a matter of seconds before he turned around & remembered that he needed to take the blood he had just donated with him.

What a incredible thing to witness. To watch someone who just donated blood, take that very unit of his blood with him back to the OR to start the transfusion immediately.

Soon, we were sending another over head announcement:

“Attention all crew, attention all crew…Anyone with a blood type of B+, please proceed to the lab immediately.”

I finished the CT warm ups & got the department open & ready in case they needed to bring the patient our way. By the time I was done, which again, was not more than a few minutes, if that, our hallway was full of people. Everyone who was B+, or thought they might be, flooded the corridor…some in pajamas, some in street clothes, some in scrubs. They each began filing into the lab to donate. An OR nurse was in the lab, ready to run the unit of blood to the OR as soon as it was completed…just to run back to the lab to get the next unit.

Just a few minutes later, another over head announcement was made:

“Attention all crew, attention all crew…If you’re able, please stop what you’re doing & join us in praying for the patient in OR 3. The IOC is also joining us in prayer.”

WOW.

That’s one announcement I never thought I’d hear. Even here at Mercy Ships, a organization that is founded on the model of Jesus.

I stood in amazement as I watched people come together in prayer for our patient. In our hallway, those who were lined up & waiting to donate blood, came together in prayer. Those who were working on the busted pipe, stopped for a moment to pray together. The patients in the ward, all who are hurting & healing themselves, came together in the middle of the ward to pray for their friend who was fighting for his life.

How incredible it is to know that even though most of the 400+ crew was not able to be there to help in person, that they are with you in prayer. That those of you on deck 3 were not fighting this battle alone. That they are lifting up your patient to God…and that’s the best place to be together. As I said a few weeks ago,

The absolute best thing we can do for our patients is to lay their healing at His feet. Because He simply uses us as an extension of Himself. It’s not us who do the healing, it’s Him. It’s not at all about us & the patient, it’s about Him & the patient.

 So knowing that everyone was gathered in prayer for our patient at that moment, was incredible. Because when two or more of us are gathered in His name, He is with us. And He was absolutely with us that night. 

As they were getting down to collecting blood from our last three B+ crew members (two of which could only give half units due to donating not too long ago), Brian came out to let us know that the bleeding was now under control & the patient was stable…still critical, but stable.

I’m not sure what time I actually made it back to my cabin, but as soon as I got there, I collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down my face. I was so overwhelmed by everything that had taken place in the last 24 hours. Overwhelmed that through the grace, mercy & help of God, they were successful in getting this massive hemorrhage under control. I couldn’t help but wonder…Did I do enough for these patients & our doctors? 

As I climbed into my bunk, I couldn’t help but continue to think of the events that had unfolded before my eyes. About everything I had witnessed.

It was the most amazingly beautiful mess of chaos I’ve ever seen.

Working in the ER for several years, I’ve seen my share of chaos. I’ve seen people come together to do whatever needed to be done in order to save our patient. I’ve helped hold pressure on an ruputed artery, I’ve helped perform CPR on patients of all ages…I’ve seen more than I ever imagined…

But I’ve never witnessed anything like the events of Friday night.

Job titles didn’t matter. Nationality, race, religion…none of that mattered.

All that mattered was our patient. Doing what needed to be done in order to save him. And we were successful.

Once again, not much sleep was had Friday night & emotions were high on Saturday morning. As some of us who helped care for this patient sat down to eat breakfast together, we couldn’t help but shed a few tears at all that had happened, & so very quickly. This patient was 22 days post-op. He simply coughed, rupturing his external carotid artery suddenly…he was bleeding out…& quickly.

But for me, & I think for them as well, it was more about how everyone came together so quickly. How even with our busted pipes, our limited resources & staff, we were still able to save this patient. How everyone who was a vital part of saving him, just happened to be in the right place at the right time. How we could feel the presence of our Savior throughout all the chaos. It was overwhelming.

 It’s still overwhelming.

So as I was preparing for this patients scan yesterday morning, I couldn’t help but notice the rainbow of colors…& I knew God was telling me…

It’s ok…I’m here. Your patients, your fellow crew & you have never been out of My care. Today is a new day, & within this day lies new hope, new mercies…

 “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.” -Lamentations 3:22-23

“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.” -2 Corinthians 4:16-18

“Then God said, “I am giving you a sign of my covenant with you and with all living creatures, for all generations to come. I have placed my rainbow in the clouds. It is the sign of my covenant with you and with all the earth. When I send clouds over the earth, the rainbow will appear in the clouds.” -Genesis 9:12-13

Thank you Father for that wonderful reminder. 

Because still, I hadn’t heard from the radiologist. I still did not have a report to give them for our possible stroke patient…& now, I’m scanning someone who almost lost his life, just hours before.

 They would absolutely need a report on his scan. But how was I going to get them one? 

Dr. Gary (Parker) mentioned to me in passing that we once had a radiologist in Australia who would read STAT exams for us, that maybe his contact info is still in radiology somewhere. So as soon as I had a opportunity, that became my mission…to find this radiologist & contact him. It wasn’t the easiest thing, but finally, I was able to get in contact with him. And he was an absolute God send. Within an hour or so, he had replied that he would be honored to help out & read these exams for us. And within  a few more hours, I had the reports. As soon as I received them, I couldn’t fight the tears that formed in my eyes. It was truly like a enormous weight was lifted off my shoulders. That feeling of failure was also lifted. Now our doctors had the extra pieces of the puzzle & knew what needed to be done. 

I’m so very thankful to God for sending me not only a symbol of hope, but an angel disguised as a radiologist.

We must remember that He has equipped us with everything we need to complete the path He has laid before us. Even during the times we feel like, “What am I doing here? Am I strong enough to handle this?”.

Are we strong enough to handle this?

No. But HE IS.

And because He lives within us, we ARE strong enough to endure all of the overwhelming moments. We ARE strong enough to continue down this path, no matter how steep the climb may be. We ARE strong enough to complete the mission He has set out before us. We ARE strong enough to serve those around us in His name.

And my fellow Africa Mercy crew, I really am truly humbled & honored to be serving beside you all. In Him, we are strong enough & we can handle anything…& when we come together in His name, for His purpose, we’re even stronger. Keep up the amazing work…you’re changing lives & making a difference in the lives of those you’re serving, as well as those around you.

“I chose you. I wanted you. I appointed you. I set you where you are.” -John 15:16

• Patient Update 

Our possible stroke patient is improving by the hour. 

Our hemorrhage patient is also stable, still in critical condition, but stable. I went to check on him before heading to bed last night. When I walked in, I was met with his eyes! He was responsive, able to move all extremities & follow commands. In the world of medicine, he should not be alive. But in God’s world, he’s alive & responsive. We’ve witnessed a true miracle. 

Please continue to pray for them & their healing! •

Working in the Rain!

I can only say that Mark, Emmie and I had so much fun working in the rain today, that we all agreed to work again next Saturday at Sand Creek!  Highlights:

• Having our first group of 15 sing "Happy Birthday" to our course manager in honor of his birthday yesterday;
• Finding a coat that actually fit a second grade girl who was shivering in the rain;
• Seeing another high ropes rescue in action.  The Bosun Swings and rain are not a good combination!
• Tips were good!

Flip Turns!

Today was Tamara's last day at the Y because she's have baby somewhere around November 30 - her first!  When I got to work she asked me to swim with her after lessons and I said - even though Annie and I had run 3.5 miles this morning - "Yes!" because I like Tamara.  Even when my last class didn't show up, I stayed at work so I could swim with Tamara because I like her!  Can you imagine swimming next to someone who is doing flip turns at eight months pregnant?  It was amazing to watch her (them!) swim and flip!  So now we're going to swim together every Friday after lessons until the baby arrives just so I can be amazed!

One Thousand, Five Hundred!

Yup, today I swam my 1,500th mile since I started keeping track at the Y in 2008.  It was bit nippy - we had a water pipe burst yesterday and flood the area under the pool forcing cold water into the pool, but MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!  

Thankful Thursday!

Today, I am thankful for two crazy custodians, one from Mexico and one from El Salvador, who are comfortable enough with me that they were able to lock me in the electrical closet at the Y while I was packing away CPR equipment.  Well, I wasn't exactly locked in as much as I was held in - Arturo pulled the door shut so I couldn't pull it open!  And then ran from me when I came out while Evelin ratted him out to me!  It was fun!

And I'm thankful that I'm only working one paying job tomorrow - instead of two as originally scheduled.  Now I can spend quality time with the leaves!

And I'm thankful that, without them knowing it, I've been able to pick up all my neighbor's newspapers while they're in India and stack them by their front door.  I'm thinking it's far much better than leaving them all over the front yard!  

Size 6 Jeans!

In my closet, I keep a favorite pair of size 6 jeans that I used to fit into quite well.  They're my inspiration that some day, I may just fit in to them again.  Well, some day became TODAY - quite by accident!

I grabbed a pair of jeans this morning and tossed them into my pool bag, went to work, taught lessons, showered and got dressed to teach CPR.  I went to put on my jeans and I thought, "Wow, they're a bit snug.  I thought I'd been losing weight. I wonder what's up?"  

Then I started to smile and laugh - I was about to teach CPR in the tightest jeans I owned - and they zipped!  The size 6 jeans!  I sure am glad it was an all girl class!  I'm even happier that, while they caused great discomfort, they never came unsnapped!  And, yeah, I'm not sure how soon I'll wear them again . . . 

Blizzard and Birthday and a Beautiful Saturday!

While as Sand Creek yesterday, I got to spend quality time with the Minnesota Blizzard ELITE baseball players!  Oh, baby, they were the cream of the crop - in baseball, but not necessarily in life.  I spent my day challenging them, encouraging them, reprimanding them and having fun with them on the low ropes course.

When they left, I got the all girl birthday party - who actually came through in the end!

They were followed up by 45 zippers at 4:30!  Needless to say, I was exhausted by the time I got home - but it was a beautiful Saturday.

4.5!

For the first time since my first concussion back in April of 2015, Annie and I went for a long run today - 4.5 miles!  I'd like to say we did great, but I was sucking air!

Thankful Thursday!

It's the little things that I'm thankful for on this Thursday . . .

• When I came home from work, the dog was walked and I could eat lunch right away;
• The beautiful fall colors;
• The floors were vacuumed and mopped while I was at work;
• Sam made supper;
• I had a lovely swim this morning;
• My eye has healed - only one more day of glasses!

Slowed-down Shopping!

Today I was going to get my grocery shopping done early and go work outside!  It was a beautiful day!  In the meat department, I ran into Sandy.  I hadn't seen her in forever, so we talked for a very long time.  But that was okay - I still had time to get outside!  Things were moving along until I hit the dairy aisle.  My friend Sharon was there - so of course, we had to catch up!  Now I was a bit behind, but going outside was still a possibility.  Until I went to check-out.  My friend Stacy was there and I had heard she was taking over the Tuesday morning Bible study at church so we needed to talk!  And the yard work will still be there tomorrow . . . Isn't it interesting how I prayed this morning, that God would direct my day?

Two Micahs!

Yup, we have two Micah's in our family!  Our daughter Micah and now her cousin Micah who was born last night.  Unfortunately, he lives in Washington so who knows when we'll get to meet him. 

Laying it at His feet . . .

Holly Franklin is a radiology tech aboard the Africa Mercy.  Today's post is reblogged from her blog, "A Path to Mercy."

The past few weeks have been a mix of wonderful 

& difficult on board the Africa Mercy.

There have been a few patients that have really tugged at my heart. 

Because not only are they absolutely precious, 

they are the ones that we’re unable to help medically.

And it’s just as devastating as it was 5 weeks ago.

Everyone here on board wants so badly to treat everyone we see, everyone who walks/drives for hours or days to come see us, everyone who has put all of their hope in us being able to help them. But that’s just not possible. And through every one of these situations, God is teaching me that we’re not the ones who treat & heal them anyway…He is. That it’s not about US & the patient, 

it’s about HIM & the patient.

The absolute best thing we can do for our patients is

 to lay their healing at His feet. 

That doing so is infinitely greater than anything we can do personally. After all, He simply uses us as a extension of Himself. 

We are not the ones who are treating & healing, He is.

But even still, it’s difficult to watch these patients walk away.

It’s difficult to watch the scans of these patients appear. Because you know as soon as you see the images below, that there’s nothing we can do here at Mercy Ships for this pathology. That it’s most likely cancerous & has metastasized throughout the rest of their body. That most likely, 

all we can provide is palliative care & spiritual support.

As I’ve said before, the amount of suffering these precious people go through is palpable just by looking into their eyes. No words are necessary to understand the pain they feel every moment of every day. To understand what they have to endure because of their medical abnormality & the lack of healthcare they so desperately need.

There’s no way to describe the emotions you feel when you meet these patients for the first time & look into their eyes. There’s no way to describe what happens within your heart, no way to prepare yourself for the feelings that will come over you.

You can’t help but feel like God is allowing you to look through His eyes, to see what He sees, to feel what He feels about His children.

That despite all the abnormalities, despite others deeming them cursed, 

that they are still His.

That they are nothing short of beautiful & precious in His sight, 

because they are.

The images you see above belong to 15 year old young man. As you can see, his large facial tumor has eaten away & destroyed a good portion of his facial bones, is now growing into his brain & is slowly crushing his trachea.

When I first laid eyes on this sweet young man, with his tumor protruding out of his nose & mouth, I had to fight back tears. Then as he sat down on the CT table, he shook my hand & thanked me for helping him. I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. 

As we proceeded with the CT & his images began to appear, my heart dropped & shattered into a million pieces. I knew then & there that we would not be able to operate. That there was far too much involved with this tumor. And as I saw the unfathomable narrowing of his airway, it really hit me…

Suffocation would most likely take his life. And soon.

How was I supposed to walk back in there & not completely fall apart? How was I supposed to appear hopeful to this young man, who is not too much older than my baby brother, knowing that this could possibly be my first & last time meeting him? To be able to make an impact, no matter how small, in his life? 

Through the strength God reinforces us with. Through knowing & trusting that He has prepared us for these very tasks, even if we’re not sure how. Through praying for comfort & peace, not for ourselves, 

but for our patients & their families. 

And my prayer for our time with those patients is still the same as it was 

5 weeks ago…

I pray that each of us shined the Light of our Savior while in contact with those who were told “No”. That even though we are unable to help them medically, that we were sufficient in helping them spiritually. That us serving them, even if it was only for a short time, allowed them to see that they have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to be embarrassed about, that they are not cursed & that they do matter…not only to God & our Savior, but to us as well. That we love them & accept them for who they are, with or without their abnormality.

That as Children of God, their abnormality will never & could never define them. That they are loved, cared about & 

just as important as any other.

I hope & pray that we provide those things for them.

I pray that each of us continues to learn that while we may not be able to help them medically, that we can still do what’s best for each of these patients by laying them & their healing at the feet of our Savior.

 That we can still support them, encourage them, pray for them.

We can still make a difference in their life. 

We can still love them as Christ loves them.

We were reminded in church tonight that God has chosen us for this calling. That we’re here because we were called to Jesus, not just Mercy Ships & Benin. That many times our calling is full of joy & suffering intertwined.

That Jesus believes in us, that we are capable of making a difference, not only in Benin, but in the lives of those around us. 

Because even though our hearts break often while living out our calling here at Mercy Ships, all suffering has meaning in God’s Kingdom.

He can bring good out of anything…even suffering & heart break.

What a precious reminder that we are fully equipped to handle anything, as long as we keep Him as our center 

& lay everything at His feet.

————————————————————————–

We also had the privilege of having the founder of Mercy Ships, Don Stephens, & the board of directors here with us this past week.

Mr. Stephens is truly one of the most humble people I’ve ever met.

 

He was recently nominated for the Congressional Gold Medal & when congratulated on this enormous honor & achievement, he politely declined the recognition & averted the attention to the patients & volunteers.

“Thank you for mentioning the award, but you said that we deserve it…& I would push back strongly. The only thing we deserve is Hell, & everything else is grace. So we don’t deserve it at all & that’s why when we were nominated, we specifically put the focus on you. You are the hands & the feet, the ones that are making the difference in Africa. And if it will help us raise funds & recruit others to serve, then may God bless it & may He have His way. But it’s not about us, it’s about you & what you’re doing, & the poor that we are serving. 

It’s about Africa.

And additionally, I think mainly it’s about Jesus.” -Don Stephens

( https://mercyships.org/blog/congressional-gold-medal )

But it’s him who followed his heart & the call of our Savior to begin this wonderful organization. Without him following his dream to provide healthcare to those in the poorest of nations, we wouldn’t have this opportunity to serve in this way. Because of the work he’s done over the past 38 years, Mercy Ships has been able to directly impact more than 2.5 million people 

& provide services valued more than $1.3 billion.

So thank you Mr. Stephens, for following the call & passion God placed within your heart. We wouldn’t be here without you.

“Prayer in action is love, & love in action is service. Try to give unconditionally whatever a person needs in the moment. The point is to do something, however small, & show you care through your actions by giving your time. We are all God’s children so it is important to share His gifts. Do not worry about why problems exist in the world – just respond to people’s needs. 

We feel what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean, 

but that ocean would be less without that drop.” -Mother Teresa

Until next week…

Thankful Thursday!

Today I am thankful for friends.  Friends who are willing to pray.  Friends who send words of encouragement.  Friends who are there for us.  Again.  And again.  And again.  We are beyond blessed to have you in our lives.  Thank you!

 

3FT

Today's Forced Family Fun Time (3FT) took very little force at all!  We joined our birth mother and her family, including her dad and his wife, at the Mall of America to celebrate her 37th birthday!  And since "a picture paints a thousand words" . . . enjoy!

That's Lincoln!  He's a happy seventh month old!

The four oldest are ready to ride the roller coaster!  Kingsley was so excited - she was finally tall enough!

That's twenty years of kids!

 

 And there she is - the birthday girl!

 

Thanks for joining us!

Thankful Thursday!

Thankful Thursday rather went by the wayside last week.  I just didn't feel like blogging and what I had to share was really nothing, so I didn't.  

Then came Friday.  I rushed from the Y out to Sand Creek to work with a "secretive" group of chiropractors who were there to be challenged by their leader, Torrey. 

Oh, he was rude and obnoxious. I could barely stand him.  And so humanistic - "believe in yourself", "you can do", "you're a loser if you don't try."  

So I asked some of them, "How much did you pay to be yelled at like this?"  

Response:  "What do you mean?  Don't you like him?"  

"Really?  No.  I see no positive encouragement in him."  

At that point, one of my co-workers who I have worked with two years and who also loves Jesus replied, "I think she (meaning me!) is ready to tell him off." 

I didn't, but my heart hurt for these twenty-five lost men and women who had no hope but in themselves and Torrey who had no grace.  We all know how awesome it is to "be your own god."   And so I was thankful that I know Jesus . . . that I have hope . . . and joy . . . and peace . . . and I am accepted just as I am.  To God be the glory!    

"I trust you."

Holly Franklin is currently serving as a radiologist on the good ship Mercy and this post is reblogged from "A Path to Mercy."  May we, too, trust HIM.

Oh the things the Lord has taught me this past week.

Through friends, through patients, through evil, through life.

This week began with a imaging study on one of our ward patients. He came to us with his back completely covered in one large nevus (mole). This nevus would have most likely turned into cancer in the coming months/years, therefore, he had it removed.

Sounds simple enough, right?

Sure, it was a simple operation, but this is what needs to be understood about this case. When I say his back was completely covered by one large mole, I literally mean his ENTIRE back. From his scapula to his lumbar, flank to flank.

Totally. Completely. Covered.

So when I say he had it removed, what I really mean is, he had 90% (plus or minus) of the flesh of his back removed in one operation. Down to the muscular layer of tissue. Gone. The only thing covering this enormous wound is a transparent, sterile bandage (think a enormous tegaderm…or the transparent bandage we use to secure an IV).

Yet when he came to radiology, even though he was in a great deal of pain, he was nothing but gracious, kind & thankful. He literally walked to the department. And when our day crew, Ifede, started to translate what we were going to do during his exam & letting him know that we were going to work as gently & quickly as we could, because we understand the amount of pain he is in, this patient gently responded with,

“You may do whatever you need to do, I can handle whatever it may be. I trust you.”

I TRUST YOU.

God literally knocked the breath out of me with that response.

What is it like to have such a trust in someone you’ve just met?

This patient hasn’t been with us too long & yet, he totally, completely trust us. Then I realized that all of our patients have this trust. They all come to us full of trust, full of kindness, full of gratitude, full of faith. All before they even have a chance to know us. They put all of their trust in God to care for them through us, His children.

The Bible tells us in Psalm 91 that if we rest in the shadow of the Almighty with trust, that He provide us refuge. That He will shield & protect us from fear.

“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.” For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness is a shield and buckler. You will not fear the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day.”                  -Psalm 91:1-16

So why do we struggle with trust? Why are we, as Christians, so hesitant to put all our trust in God?

Because surely, if our patients are able to put total & complete trust in Him, & in turn, in us…we can do the same, right?

Last week, my hometown experienced fear & evil first hand. Through a teenagers thoughtless actions, we lost some members of our community (Rest in peace at the feet of our Savior sweet Jacob!). There are lives that will be forever affected by this tragedy. And while we are still processing everything that has occurred last week, God knows the reasoning behind it all. It was all a part of His plan after all. We must remember that there are things in life that we will never truly understand. We’re not meant to. We’re meant to put our trust and faith in Him, His timing, His plan. For all of those things are perfect in Him. Although it’s hard to comprehend at times, everything happens for a reason. That reason may become clear fairly quickly after the tragedy, other times, it may take years. There will always be events that we never truly understand.

And again, that’s where faith and trust comes into play.

Just as our patients trust in our plan to treat them, we should trust God’s plan for our life. Because in Him, & Him alone, will the plans for our lives come alive. Just as our patients have had to endure years of rejection & pain, they still trust that God has a bigger & better plan for them…& we must do the same. We will have to endure rejection from this world & the pain that life brings, but we must continue to trust that everything we endure is part of His plan for us, part of our growing in Him as His children.

“But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in Him. They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought & never fails to bear fruit.” -Jeremiah 17:7-8

To be truly blessed & to bless those around us, we must keep our faith & trust in Him.

For when we place ALL of our trust in Him & ALL of our worries & insecurities at His feet, we truly allow Him to work in & through us. Which is our purpose on this earth…to live for Him, to share His love, grace & mercy with those around us. To shine His light into the darkened world. To serve others in His name. To bring Him glory.

We are His & He is ours. 

Wow. What a thought.

“The Lord is my strength and my shield; in Him my heart trusts, &  I am helped; my heart exults, & with my song I give thanks to him.” -Psalm 28:7

All God Does Is Good

Read this amazing post from Nurse Cara's blog, "I Peter 4:10" knowing that indeed, "All God does is good."

Today is our third day of Maxillofacial (MaxFax) surgeries on the Africa Mercy for the 2016-2017 Benin Field Service.  And I am one happy pediatric nurse! We have a recovering and adorable 6-month cleft lip baby named Patricia, today we operated on a beautiful six-year old cleft palate named Minabelle and tonight we welcomed an 8-month baby boy (also cleft lip) named Israel. I’ve already kissed Patricia’s hair more times than I can count and gave her a bath on Monday night that made me far happier than it made her. I have shaken Israel’s hand twice in welcome, enjoying the way he regarded me with solemn and inquisitive eyes.  I got to spend time reassuring Minabelle and her mom this morning not to be afraid and then again this afternoon promising that we would care for her, that we had her bleeding and her airway and her pain under control.
But there is one sweet baby in the corner of our ward, in beloved Haingo’s old bed, who has stolen my heart in a special and particular way, one who is especially precious to me.

Her name is Bignon.  

Just like Haingo, Bignon is a cleft lip and palate baby, too – and our first medical admission of the season.  Bignon weighs 4 pounds and is three weeks old.  Bignon’s mother arrived exhausted and defeated, with a dehydrated and lethargic baby who barely had active reflexes and didn’t even have the strength to cry during her blood draws.  Yet already during Bignon’s first 24 hours aboard, both mother and baby look far more full of life than they did the previous day, both full of food and receiving rest and good care.

On Deck 7 today, during fresh air time, I asked one of our day crew to ask Bignon’s mother if the baby’s name means anything. 

“It does,” our translator told me.  “It means ‘All God Does is Good'”. 

I had chills. How fitting. How perfect. How well that name illustrates the powerful story of this fragile little baby and this brave, brave Mama.  Can you imagine someone laying your baby in your arms, after hours of laboring, and seeing how small she is, seeing her bilateral cleft lip for the first time, being frightened and unsure of what caused this enormous, obvious, difficult defect —

AND YET still turning your eyes to heaven and choosing to name this darling little girl “All God Does is Good”? 

If I had faith like that, if I had trust like that, how different my every single day would be. How different my relationship with God would be, my relationships with my loved ones and my relationship with myself would be.  It is nearly beyond my comprehension to imagine what depths of peace you would feel in knowing, knowing THAT intensely that God had everything, every hardship, every struggle, every curveball under His control and that He was making choices for you and your family that ultimately were good, no matter how scary they seemed at first?

That kind of faith is the kind that they say moves mountains. 

Upon our return to the ward, my heart still full and my throat still lumpy and my eyes still stinging, I watched Patricia and her Mama greet little Israel. I watched Patricia’s mom showing off the nasal bolster, pointing at the steri-strips, gesturing to the nurses and talking fast and excitedly.  I watched Bignon’s mom coming over, showing off her own little clefty girl, her own pride and joy. I could hardly tear myself away. Three cleft lips and their mothers having a party in the back of the ward in our incredible unit on a floating hospital docked in Cotonou, Benin.

Indeed.  All God Does is Good. 

More of Fifa . . .

Yesterday I posted a video of Fifalina.  Today I found a post by Michelle, a physiotherapist aboard the ship, in her blog, "Bloom", telling more of Fifa's story.  Be blessed!

This little girl’s courage and heart through 6 months of medical care, painful procedures and rehab is a testimony of how strong her mother’s faith is and the love she has for her daughter. It is humbling and inspiring to see how much courage and trust they both have. What do I even fret over? What in my life honestly comes close to the suffering and pain they have had to endure? They had no answers for a long time. And yet despite their ‘poor hand’ and the misfortune of being born in a land with feeble medical resources; they had courage to keep going.. to live life as well as they possibly can, to love despite their circumstance.The day came when Fifa and her momma could get help and when that journey began they had the courage to be known and allow themselves to be loved.

 

This was a journey, a long one. The halls of this ship hospital and the bright white lights and business of vazas (foreigners) is frighting for many patients when they first arrive. Picture these little children who are so brave because they endure having never seen probing rubber gloves, the clinical coldness of so much white linen and all the other scary looking medical supplies like needles, syringes, cast saws and and and. Our nurses know this and hospital chaplaincy knows this, and so they try to break the scary with hoards of colourful stickers, balloons for animal making-game playing-artwork fun. There’s guaranteed to be bubbles floating around and a game of balloon badminton happening while kids run round the ward plastered in glittery heart stickers. There is a never ending stream of nurses and house keepers and chaplains and physios and even the surgeons, yes the surgeons, who will pick up a needy child, cuddle a cleft-lip baby or read a book with a mama while her exhausted child sleeps.

 

The love transforms. It’s far more than the physical bones or skin that gets grafted. It’s more than the suffocating tumor that’s removed. It’s more than the cataracts that’s lifted to reveal sight. It’s the bravery this place gives you to keep fighting. It’s the courage it fosters to try again tomorrow. It’s knowing that we’re valid. It’s demonstrated in the care of the “most important” who stop and smile and pray over the least of those around them. It’s the way everyone is important, seen and acknowledged again as a human being. Dr Gary is our Chief Medical Officer who’s been here doing his thing for 30 years. I saw him this morning walking around the cafe area on the ship stroking the leaves of the pot plants, tending them, pruning off the dead leaves. The other day, after 13 hours of surgery he picked up a mop and helped clean. I’m not saying this to boast and instill feelings of comparative shame. This is convicting and it’s beautiful. Because it’s these things that rub off and create an absolutely unique environment spurred by positive pressure. I love the one quote he once said about giving people a chance to be a human again, the right to sit at the table of humanity.

This is a special place but why can this not happen in our pocket of humanity at home? What stops me from taking a step back into resting on Jesus and turning out to face others with a gentle smile of recognition? What stops me from unashamedly reaching out a hand to touch someone as I go past? What stops me from waiting and listening though their whole sentence instead of interrupting with my agenda? Well, I watched this video of Fifalina’s life being radically RADICALLY reshaped and turned around and I realised something. It wasn’t about me. It wasn’t about the 100s of people who worked night shifts or even the surgeon and operating room staff who straightened her legs; it’s about her, Fifa. It’s about her future. It’s about looking into her eyes and seeing her, and choosing to put her need, above mine every time we meet. She needs to be seen and loved and given her seat again at the table of humanity.

There are many more people like her to come but this doesn’t have to be overwhelming. It’s not about me or my strength or my ability or my fleshy desires and ambitions. I can rest on the One who’s much greater who has given me the will to do this and the means to do it. It’s going to be difficult, and I’ll think i’m suffering (but really not much…) but I want to be open to being interrupted. I want to have to the courage to be available for others’ sake. The courage to operate out of humility for humanity. The courage to love. I look at the picture on my cabin wall of Fifa marching through her street back in Antananarivo and remember that I too, have courage. Courage is a little Malagasy girl and she’s here in my heart.