Thankful Thursday!

Isn't it awesome that God has made each one of of different, with different gifts and talents and things we enjoy doing?  Today I am thankful that in less than twenty-four hours, God let me use the gifts He has given me in three very different, distinctive ways:

1. Yesterday, I helped edit the Sand Creek Adventures Staff Manual via Google Docs.  This is the third staff manual I've worked on in my life (Kids' Safari Program Manual with Bloomington Public Schools, Mercy Ships Summer Program Manual and now the SCA Staff Manual).  I love being able to edit and reword and make things clearer for those reading the manual.  And I thoroughly enjoyed using Google Docs!
2. This morning, I spoke with my supervisors at the Y about our next staff inservice.  I'm willing to lead a section on component teaching - you need to float before you can glide before you can glide and kick . . . You get the idea!  They're excited - me, too!  I like teaching, just not in the classroom.
3. I got home from work and I had a request from Trinity's Vacation Bible School team to help plan an obstacle course for VBS this summer.  I'm in!  Nothing makes me happier than programming!  And, I volunteered to lead it with the fam.  Now, how much fun can I have?

I always used to think I was "different" because working with youth and children was "my thing".  No one else did it.  Now, I know I'm gifted and am thankful for the gifts God has given me!    

But Jesus called them to him, saying, 

“Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, 

for to such belongs the kingdom of God."  

Luke 18:16
 

Ruined for the Ordinary . . .

Today's post is reblogged from my friend, Jodie's blog, "Rothwell Recap".  We've been friends since at least Sierra Leonne and frequently write one another.  She'll be leaving the ship soon to return to Australia.  Catch her thoughts - she's the one on the left!

This is just a collection of random thoughts that I wrote a while back that I have now updated a bit, but resonates more so now, as we are about a month away from walking down the gangway for the last time, for this season.

Tears threaten to overflow at any given moment, over the silliest of things and anxiety floods through my veins. I can’t do it. How can I leave this place? That is how I feel one day. The next, anger and frustration bubble up inside me and I secretly hate being here and cannot wait to be anywhere else. What is this paradox?

I don’t think it really hit me, the beginning of the end, until we began to slowly sail away from our berth in Las Palmas, back in August last year, and I thought to myself, “This is it, I will never do this again”. As the soulful strains of Theodore, a long time friend of Mercy Ships, standing on the edge of the breakwater, playing “Amazing Grace” on his trumpet,  reached my ears, I nearly lost it right there and then. How does one do this anyway? Nobody told me that the transitioning would begin almost a year before we even left. One by one, those “lasts” seem to be stacking up like a pile of Jenga bricks, threatening to topple over at any given moment, just like my emotions. 

It hits me at the most unpredictable of times. Standing in my “kitchen” in the place I have lived the longest of anywhere in my whole life, watching a little ortho patients at the Hope Centre with a “Tom Hopper”, a special frame made by our friend Tom who went to be with Jesus last shipyard, sharing ice-cream with new friends in favourite city haunts, the sales staff who know my coffee order off by heart, walking the familiar hallways and staring out at the twinkling port lights from the pool deck. 

It hits me like a freight train at those time when you would expect, remembering to say goodbye to alumni crew because next time they come back, it will be me who has left. Walking out of the library for the last time, a place I have poured my heart and soul into, watching the dockside tents come down and the wards empty out. Saying goodbye to Dolf Kevin, the patient through whose veins flow life giving blood from my daughter, when the Operations Managers plan a special dinner for Andrew and each say nice things about him, watching Jessica try on her graduation cap and gown, the tassel she picked swinging wildly about and knowing that very soon the haze of Africa will be in the rear view mirror. I can barely stand it.

But part of me yearns to live without having to remember to sign up for a laundry slot or to book out a car for my four hour slot on a weekend. I can’t wait to not be awoken by the shrieking sounds of a 6:00 am fire drill alarm, I long to be able to get specialist medical attention, to be able to eat what I want, whenever I want, to sleep in an adult size bed, to go to a shopping centre, to drive my own car, have winter, to be there to celebrate with my family, to have Christmas in Australia and to be understood when I speak-ALL the time, But then I realise the great contradiction is, that if I no longer yearn for these things, then I am no longer living on the ship. Wherever I am, my heart will yearn for the other. It’s my reality. I am ruined for the ordinary.

Once we have said our goodbyes, finished our travels, arrived back to Australia and reunited with our family again, moved into our own place and the dust has settled. Then what? When will I get used to my new normal that was my old normal but somehow slipped away to be replaced with bent legs, globetrotting, miracles, dry ladies, a four room house, greeting royalty, drums beats, AK47’s, dolphins and whales, head size tumours, sidewalk shopping, spoken French, coke in glass bottles, dinner with the Governor, coconuts, needlegunning, pirate drills, stowaways, living in community, dental screenings, slow internet, landrovers, plantains, thunderstorms and cyclones, containers, African fabric, lining up for food, markets, 1000 goodbyes, blackouts, watching the blind see, giving blood to patient and listing to their heartfelt thanks, Christmas cookie bakes, ward worship, chicken fingers, baby chimps, dockside tents, gridlocked traffic, things carried on heads, moto taxis, scrubs, $1.00 lattes, cleft lip babies, flotsam and jetsam outside my window,  …..the list goes on and on. This is our normal. And I don’t know how to live like that…back in the “ordinary”.

Watching our Douala berth appear through the mist in what seems like both an eternity and five minutes ago, I struggled to remember each and every little detail, fully aware this was our last arrival into a host nation. My senses were heightened, as the beat of the drums cut through the fog, the advance team cheered wildly on the dock in their matching, blood red African fabric outfits. The excitement in the air was palpable, the humidity like a cloak, as I stood on the deck, perilously close to tears running down my cheeks. I swallowed the lump in my throat, as big as an apple and felt blessed, as I have a thousand times before, that despite all the odds stacked against us, when most people had given up on us, we never let go of our dream to serve on the Africa Mercy and God made a way. He never gave up on us!

Now we walk the fine line between living with “two feet on deck” and planning for our future. It is a difficult thing. My mind feels like it is being pulled in a thousand different directions and sometimes I have trouble sleeping. My brain is constantly buzzing.I long to feel at peace, as I know that the time is right for us to leave Mercy Ships for this season and we are very tired. But my heart breaks when I think about that moment when we walk down the gangway for the very last time. I know that part of me will want to turn around and run right back up to complain about what is for dinner that night. But another part of me wants to run into the arms of my mum and dad, knowing I don’t have to say goodbye in a few weeks time, to smell the sweet smells of eucalyptus and listen to the cackle of cockatoos, to have our own space at last and to be in my own culture.

This song comes to my mind right now…

Higher than the mountains that I face
Stronger than the power of the grave
Constant through the trial and the change
One thing remains,
Yes, one thing remains.

Your love never fails,
It never gives up
It never runs out on me

Because on and on, and on, and on it goes
Before it overwhelms and satisfies my soul
And I never ever have to be afraid
One thing remains
So, this one thing remains.

Your love never fails,
It never gives up
It never runs out on me

In death, in life I'm confident and covered by the power of Your great love
My debt is paid.
There's nothing that can separate my heart from Your great love...

(“One Thing Remains” by Jesus Culture)

I need to drum these lyrics into my mind and soul. His love NEVER fails and it NEVER gives up on me! His love is higher than the mountains we will face in the next year, it will be constant through the trial and the change and I NEVER have to be afraid! In the quite of the night, about two months ago, as I cried out to God when I lay awake, yet again, I felt a still small voice whisper, like a balm over my soul, "Trust Me". I cling to that truth when the anxiety take hold and fear clamps like a vice!

Also a couple of quotes that have spoken to me....

"Then I think that maybe courage is not at all about the absence of fear, but about obedience even when we are afraid. Maybe courage is trusting when we don't know what is next, leaning into the hard and knowing that it will be hard, but more, God will be near. He is the God Who Will Provide. He will provide His presence, His strength, or whatever He decides we most need. Maybe bravery is just looking fear in the face and telling it that it does not win because we have known the Lord here. We have known the Lord in the long dark night. " 

(Katie Davis Majors in 

Daring to Hope: Finding God's Goodness in the Broken and Beautiful)

In the heat of the day . . .

At 2 p.m. today, Micah and I were at the Dakota Heights Ice Skating Shelter painting the food posters for the all night senior party!  The backgrounds were done by another couple - we just painted the words and designs.  Check out what we accomplished while sweating bullets!  She could only stay until 3 p.m. as she had to be to work at 4 p.m., which left me painting until 5:30 p.m . . .

They look even better when you see what the "competition" (some other area) painted:

Only at Sand Creek . . .

Only at Sand Creek yesterday could we hear the wild vivacious laugh of a sixty-six-year-old woman who went zipping for the very first time with her son!  It was contagious!

Only at Sand Creek yesterday could we talk a group from another country through the zip line and the high ropes course, person by person.  Unfortunately, in their country, being on time isn't given the same value as it is here so all the staff missed lunch.

Only at Sand Creek yesterday could I ask a young man the meaning behind his tattoos and get a most amazing story of incarceration, bad choices, and changes being made.  I could only offer encouragement and understanding.  

Only at Sand Creek could I zip three times and have a most glorious day!  

Frank

Having served with Dr. Glenn Strauss aboard the Africa Mercy, I found it only fitting to include Frank's story here, as reblogged from "Ainsworths in Africa."  Enjoy!

“I cannot remember life before my blindness” 17 year old Frank confessed, as he tried to recall how the world around him used to look before his cataracts developed at the age of six.

Despite describing himself as a sad person, his family cherishes the memories of the bright and lively little boy he used to be, joking around and making people laugh. But even those precious moments were tarnished with the sadness of watching him reluctantly leave school, abandon his dreams and lose his sense of identity due to his deteriorating sight: “He was the brightest in his class, an outgoing and boisterous child” said his older brother, Roland.



After his mother left the family, Frank was raised in a house of hard working men who spent their days fetching wood on the river. But Frank did not join his brothers, nor did he dream about becoming a mechanic like he used to. In fact, Frank could not even cross the road opposite his house by himself and hadn’t tried since he left school 11 years ago: “When I was sent home from school, I felt so small. I could only go back when my sight had improved – but I couldn’t get surgery”.



Frank’s cataracts had started when he was young, limiting his independence and shrinking his world. Left untreated, cataracts in children can affect the success of any future surgery. If formed during key stages of growth, the part of the brain that works in conjunction with sight does not develop. Remove the cataracts early enough and the brain has a chance to catch up. If not, there’s a possibility it may never develop at all.  This highlights the importance of Mercy Ships reaching people like Frank as soon as possible – people who could not afford nor access the time sensitive surgery they needed as children: “The fact is that even though pediatric eye disease is less common than adult eye disease, it results in as many years of disability” said Ophthalmic surgeon Dr. Glenn Strauss. “In fact, blindness in children under 5 years old has a 50% mortality rate due to injury and neglect or abandonment”.



Frank sat alone day-in-day-out, listening to the empty sounds of the television. But one day he heard something that caught his attention – an advertisement for Mercy Ships. Frank was immediately taken by his family to register as a patient and his hunger for independence was born: “Frank stood out to me at screening and stayed on my mind all day” said Eye Screening Nurse, Amber Schimd. “It made me think, what would it be like to be a teenager and blind? He doesn’t even know what he looks like! What about his future? His education? I cannot imagine what it must be like”.

With no medical history or notes, the eye team was unable to know the full extent of Frank’s story and was therefore unable to fully predict the outcome or success of his operation. Following surgery, the team quickly noticed that although there was an improvement in his sight, it was not as significant as hoped: “We realized it was most likely that his cataracts had been there longer than we thought, perhaps even from birth” said Dr. Glenn, “Frank was one survivor who could have had his vision fully restored if we had reached him even 5 years sooner”.



But Frank slowly began to recognize text on paper and faces in pictures that before were a blur of light – a minor improvement for some, but a major impact in Frank’s search for independence. Think about the effect of not feeling safe, to even walk across the street – but now you can. The sense of isolation that you felt, that you were bound to someone for help – but now you’re not. The stick that you needed to feel your way around – but now you don’t: “Thanks to Mercy Ships my sight is better than before and I thank them for that” said Frank. “Now I can cross the street alone, my dream is to go further – to places I have never been before”.



That same teenage boy is now able to start dreaming once again about a future beyond watching T.V in the darkness: “I think this is a great picture of the independence that this cataract surgery has brought for him.” said Dr. Glenn. “What a change in his life. I think if he has the determination and the courage to be a mechanic as he says, I bet he can do it.”

Jacqueline

If I had a bucket list, on the very top would be to attend one of Mercy's Ships Dress Ceremonies.  Jacqueline's story is reblogged from "Ainsworths in Africa".  It's a glory story!

“When I get home, I think my man is going to ask me to marry him…and I’m going to say yes!”


Many patients leave the Africa Mercy with a happy ending, and 33-year-old Jacqueline was no different.

Unlike many Obstetric Fistula patients who come to Mercy Ships for surgery, Jacqueline’s daughter survived the prolonged, complicated birth that caused her permanent incontinence eight years ago. But sadly, Jacqueline was abandoned by her husband and shunned by her community—common realities for many women who live with Obstetric Fistulas.


Before she even came to the ship, however, Jacqueline found a new reason to smile: Jean, a man who lovingly stayed by her side, despite her condition. Their romance was often questioned by people who tried to discourage him from staying with her, but their love was powerful.

“There are two types of people in this world: those who have treated me cruelly and have left me, and those who have stayed and supported me. (Jean) has stood by me when no one else did, and I am so grateful to him,” said Jacqueline.

Jacqueline was passed around to different hospitals and doctors with no results, and she had given up hope of ever receiving treatment so she could start her life over with Jean. But a simple procedure from professional volunteer surgeons on the Africa Mercy means she now has a new chance at life!



“When I get home, I want to move out of my village with Jean and start a new life—a better life! I’m tired of living how I’ve been living, but now I am stronger and will have more opportunities,” said Jacqueline.

“I am so happy and proud- there are no words”… not something every story teller wants to hear. But definitely something they want to see- someone barely able to speak because they are so thrilled to begin the next chapter of their lives,  their ‘happily ever after’.
 

Thankful Thursday!

Today I am thankful that God has given me understanding and grace.  

This story actually began yesterday when I visited my favorite physical therapist who shall remain unnamed.  Our game plan?  That I will no longer walk like Frankenstein!  

When I got there, my PT said, "It's so funny!  I was just talking about you last week and here you are on the schedule today."  I'm like, "What's zup?"

My favorite PT, I'm sure, does not share with all of her clients, what she has shared with me.  We're both adoptive mothers, but where I have a husband, she has a partner of the same gender.  She also has a little girl.

The topic of conversation?  Sperm donors.  She knows that that is all that our children's biological father has been in their lives - a sperm donor, not a dad, not a father.  He's never even met Micah.  Her daughter also has a sperm donor.  In this case, a "real" one that she can find out more about when she turns 18 - if she wants.  And it's hard/frustrating when people ask, "Where's the father?"  In my case, I point to Sam.  He is our children's father.  "No, I mean who is the dad?"  Still Sam, folks.  Buy a clue . . .

I understand her pain.  I'm glad that we are able to find common ground and share openly.  I get it.  Oh, that we may all be light in the darkness . . .

"Impossible means that I,

an ordinary young person,

can be love where I live.

That is Christ and

He truly does make all the difference."

Ann Kimmel