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.

 

Dad and Daughters!

That's my dad with his two daughters!  We were home for my niece's wedding this weekend and my brother-in-law Ray snapped this shot.  He and Nancy live in Yankton.

Fifalina