"Why I don't write . . . "

This post is reblogged from Silke Kessing's blog, "Rettungsengel."  Silke is a German nurse aboard the African Mercy and I like what she had to share.   It's definitely worth the read.

 

Hello and cheers to you, my beloved friends, family, co- workers, supporters and heroes of everyday life.

My last weeks have been … turbulent, to say the least. I have been struggling for weeks now to write this blog, just because I don’t know what to say and how to describe what has been happening in this chaotic, beautiful, tragic and delightful place that I currently call my home. We have celebrated life and healing, but also mourned the loss of a beautiful child. We hold hands and touch hearts, rejoice in the healings we witness while looking those in the eyes and trying to comfort the ones we cannot help. Sometimes the working hours in the OR get so long and exhausting that the nights break in and I forget to look for the light. I am from time to time diving in deep waters while forgetting to breathe.

A colleague of mine, a beautiful, talented sweet woman wrote a blog on how this life on the ship feels to her in December.

Her name is Tanya Sierra and she works in the Hospital with me, currently as Hospital Executive Assistant, formerly as a writer for Mercy Ships Communications Department. I am amazed at how beautifully she puts to „paper“ EXACTLY the feelings that fill my heart, so please let me share this with you.

Tanya writes:

I was often asked, “Why don’t you write more? I love reading your stuff!” My initial reaction was always the same, one of gratitude that people want to read what I write and excitement because I love writing and sharing stories through writing. So why don’t I do it more?

The truth is that it is hard for me to put into the words the beauty and misery, the joy and frustration and all the other extremes of this life I live along with my fellow crew members. Amazing days of life change and transformation rub up against extremely difficult days of living in community. No matter how much I try to focus on the one starfish, the celebration of transforming one individual’s life is sometimes overshadowed by the many outside our port that we cannot help.

How can I adequately explain that I watched a man come into our hospital a couple of weeks ago and he was crawling on his hands and knees because a malaria vaccine applied incorrectly left him unable to walk? And we couldn’t do anything for his legs. We did relieve him of the burden of a facial tumor that left untreated would have eventually become a crippling tumor he couldn’t afford to remove.

It doesn’t feel like enough.

I try to place myself in his “shoes” and cannot even begin to understand what goes through his mind every moment of each day. I wish I could say he’s the only one in such a predicament but I have met more adults here that crawl because they have no choice. And it frustrates me that we cannot help restore their dignity – it should frustrate me, over 5 billion people lack access to the healthcare I often take for granted.

And then there’s home. The joy of what I do here clashes with how much I miss my family, friends, my dog and home. I cry at the thought of seeing young nieces and nephews grow through photos and celebrate their accomplishments from afar. I cry for how well my dog has adapted in his new home and at the same time I’m thankful for the provision that he is so well cared for and love – provision that was so far above what I hoped for him or even thought to ask for.

I struggle with the question of where is home? Is it where my mail is sent? Right now that’s Texas – Mercy Ships base of operations. That’s not home. Is home where I sleep? I sleep on a bunk in a ship that visits a different African country each year. Sure it’s my own (albeit small) rented space but I don’t know I would classify it as home in the way we all mean. Is home where I was born or the last city I lived? I don’t know.

It all sounds messy. Even as I type it, I’m thinking “goodness this is a hot mess! What have I done?!” But maybe I should write more that this is all okay; feeling this conflicted is only natural with the kind of work we do. This life is messy and it is hard, but it’s also beautiful, challenging and a blessing – all good things to write about.“

You can read the whole story and her blog here.

I am glad to be on this journey together with people like Tanya that feel the same. And I have friends on the ship to process the daily challenges, which helps a lot. I am glad to know that YOU are out there, wherever that is – supporting me in all kinds of ways – through prayer, words of encouragement and by partnering with me financially.

But most of all I am confident in the knowledge that God has called me and set me here in this place and time for a purpose.

I know I am growing through the difficulties and challenges, and my heart is getting softer and more gentle. Yes, it hurts a lot of times, but compassion and the love of others is an area I have been striving to grow in most. I am glad I can be here and am resting assured that God knows what He is doing. I get to work hand in hand and side by side with the most amazing and inspiring people. And I know that my touch one day can make a difference in a person’s life. I am blessed, honored and humbled.