It was Gea's birthday. We were celebrating with box-made cake and nacho chips in the midships lounge. Crystal, who was in charge of the celebration, forgot something in her room. So we both went down to the third deck to retrieve it.
The ward is also on the third deck and we had to eclipse it's end in order to reach her cabins. As I was walking through the large fire door which separates the hospitals from the cabins (My cabin is only two doors way from this door) I heard a squeaky voice call out
"Megee, Megee."
Most of the Liberians I know call me Megee rather than Megan. I guess it's just easier for them to say.
I stopped midway through the door, turned around, and saw Esther standing there. Esther is a 16 year female patient of ours. When she was three, rebels soldiers stuck her hand in a fire. She received a burn contracture release on the ship.
She was standing at the end of the hallway, her right hand carefully bandaged. Her hair was tightly braided against her head in the front but the ends of each braid stuck out of the top of her head, looking like a exploding firecracker made of braids. A spunky hairstyle that matched her spunky personality. She was givning me a large grin which showcased the large gap between her two front teeth. And she was wearing a bib.
I don't know why she was wearing a bib.
I told Crystal I would meet her upstairs and went over to talk to Esther. It was a long day for her, she had her dressing changed. Not so much fun.
I pulled out a nearby chair and we talked about the day together.
At the end of the hall there is a world map that shows where the long term members of our crew are from. I pointed out Philadelphia and showed her how far way I had traveled to be in Liberia. I told her, that God must of loved her very much to send me all the way from Philadelphia to let her know that He loves her. And I told her I loved her too.
This has been a bit of a frustrating week. But if I came, and worked 65 hour weeks, and ate bad food, and lived in an eight foot space, but Esther knows she loved, it's well worth it.
If I was severely maimed at age three by the cruelty of mankind I don't that I would think I was very loved. While our actions cannot undo past wrongs, perhaps we can create a new beginning.
That's a pretty huge privelage.
Friday, August 24, 2007
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