after

bed time

I just had to make Emmanuel go back to his bed. He has been standing on his crutches next to Alfred in bed 1 for the past hour. But it's 1 am, which means the other patients are trying to sleep, which means Emmanuel needed to make a hasty return.

For being a late night addict I am a stickler when it comes to group bedtimes. Ask anyone who's been in my cabin on a Jr. or Sr. High retreat. Those who I have spent blissful weeks at Coatsville with may even be aware of the well formulated, carefully articulated, but not always adequately implemented famed "sleepers bill of rights". What can I say? A girl needs her beauty sleep (especially at Coastville..yeah for Coatsville in t minis two months!!!).

Two weeks ago when I first took care of Emmanuel he worried me. He had a serious infection and was quite sick. His face was constantly grimaced by the thick pain in his leg.

It's nice to see his grimaces replaced by laughter.

Tonight he and Alfred were just carrying on and being silly; like 14 year old boys should. They were laughing so hard at a joke I didn't really get; apparently they had told the man in the bed next to Alfred that he was going to brush his teeth at the crack of dawn. I didn't really see the humor (maybe it's just me?) but I loved listening to them laugh.

Laughing is probably my most favorite thing to do. I find in so many only two responses are appropriate: laughing or crying. I'd always prefer to laugh.

Emmanuel might have a little crush on me. He always gives me the widest, gappiest smile (his smile is far to endearing) when I tell him I will be his nurse. Tonight he even innocently winked at me as I made him go to bed.

Oh my melting heart. These boys pretty much own me :)

thy kingdom come

I'm tired.

I really love the work here. I love the patients. I love the nursing staff. I love the nursing leadership.

My brain just needs a little space to roam.

I'm leaving the ship in 3 1/2 weeks. It seems hard to believe. It feels weird to think about returning to the pressures I have been sheltered from for a year. Like care insurance and high gas prices.

Maybe it's good that I haven't had much time to think.

I remember when I decided I was going to come to the ship. It was the summer after I graduated from nursing school. I had taken the summer off before starting my job in the fall which left me with plenty of time for reading and thinking.

I went through a two week period where I felt pressed to fervently read through the New Testament. Quickly. Carefully. The entire time a small voice questioning my soul,

"Do you really believe this?"

I was made acutely aware that I was entering a phase in life where I would be making choices. Small choices that where leading somewhere. And the choices most often would not be a matter of right or wrong. They would be deeper; engaging and forming the desires of my heart. There would be choices of better and best. Matters of preferences. Expressions of
personality. Findings of security.

I heard Jesus say
Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth not rust doth corrupt and where thieves do not break though and steal: for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. (Matthew 6:19-21)

I saw Paul's heart for heaven
While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal. (1 Corinthians 4:18)

Set you affection on things above, not on things on the earth. (Colossians 3:2)

For I know Whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day. (2 Timothy 1:12)

I saw the saints that had gone before me
These all died in faith, not having received the promises but having seen them a far off and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth...but now they desire a better country, that is, an heavenly (Hebrews 11:13, 16)

They were stoned, they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were slain with the sword: they wandered about in sheepskins and goatskins; being destitute, afflicted, tormented; (of whom the world was not worthy) they wandered in deserts, and in mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth. (Hebrews 11:37-38)

As I read it was impressed upon me how radical were the things that I claimed to believe as a Christian. And there was choice, a question. If actually believed that which I claim, what would my life look like? If someone who knew nothing of Christ read through the Bible would the story of my life reflect what they would expect to find? If I really place my value and security in heavenly things what earthly choices would I be lead to make?

I saw the expectations of an American 22 year old; establish your credit, buy a car, establish your career, buy a house, start a family, buy a bigger car, buy a bigger house. Welcome to your American dream.

I knew none of those things were wrong in themselves; the Bible is filled with men and women who were wealthy. Who enjoyed God's blessings. We are not trapped in legalism or condemnation; we are free to enjoy the blessings God gives us. We should enjoy them. Paul was content in little or in much. It's a matter of the heart.

But in light of eternity, in light of what I was claiming to believe, I saw potentially road mapped next 40+ years of life and wrestled in my heart with the thought,
"There must be more than this."

I spent the summer wrestling. Wondering. Questioning.

I thought about the people I loved who didn't know Christ. Would my life show them Jesus? Would it reflect that He has changed my heart? Would it attest to how good He has been to me? Would it be labeled by extravagant love?

It was a bit of divine discontent.

At the end of the summer I heard about Mercy Ships via a friend and some late night google searching. I remember the first time I saw the story of a little girl who had a tumor removed from her face. My un emotional self sat in front of the computer bawling. I decided I'd have to go on that ship.

I think I soon after announced to my family that I would be going to Africa and living on a hospital ship. At first, I think everyone just nodded and waited for the idea to pass over my head.

But after living here for almost a year I guess it was a serious idea.

I really don't know what the future holds. I know my weakness. I know my failings. I see my fears. I feel my insecurities. But I know Jesus.

I heard these lyrics today
Lord it's all that I can't carry and cannot leave behind
it all can overwhelm me
but I think of all who've gone before them and lived the faithful life
their courage compels me

And when I'm weary and overwrought
with so many battles left unfought

I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard
I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars

I see the shepherd Moses in the Pharaohs court
I hear his call for freedom for the people of the Lord

And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them

It resonates with me. Despite myself, I want to press on and simply know and follow Jesus. To learn to love Him and to love others as myself. I don't have the strength, I don't have the humility, I don't have the wisdom, but I have Jesus. And He is always enough.

And when the Saints dressed in regal attire eternally claim the kingdom of heaven; I want to be one of them.

testosterone

A few experiences in nursing school determined for me that one of my professional nursing goals would be to only care women and children. Hence my working in a maternity floor and pediatric hospital.

A ward is full of men. Literally. Yesterday, Yenneke (the other nurse) and I provided the only doses of estrogen in a testosterone filled ward. It's funny because being a peds nurse I normally would have been longing to be on B ward, which has been filled with children. But had I been placed there I would have requested to be reassigned; the men of A ward have stolen my heart. Yesterday we really had a good time.

Three of my patients were named Emmanuel. Strong Biblical names are apparently quite popular in Liberia. Emmanuel in bed 6 has been my patient for the past 2 weeks. He came in with a huge leg infection that is being cleaned out in the OR every few days. In a weeks time I admitted back to the ward from surgery three times.

Emmanuel has a wide, rounded face and a large smile in which every tooth is separated by gentle gaps. He never went to school and had difficulty reading. He is alone; his parents live hours away and he had been staying with an uncle in Monrovia so he could receive his surgery.
He really misses his mom and can be quote dramatic/sensitive at time. He's like a big baby huey. A gentle four year old soul trapped in a fifteen year old's body.

When he has even a little pain he winces in moans in a way that if taken at face value would make you think his leg had just been ran over a truck. But I have realized that a little extra TLC and some firm anti-anxiety boundaries works better then morphine when controlling his pain. A few minutes of gentle coaxing and concern and his wincing face turns into a smile (which is how I know it's not true pain..you can't turn pain on and off...I am however a very big advocate for adequate pain relief and would never leave a patient in pain...).

On Saturday I stopped by the ward to say hello and asked him if he was going to have a day. I was a bit taken back when he firmly responded "no."

It was followed by, "I will be missing you Meggee," and a gap-filled widespread smile.
"When will you be my nurse?"

Winston is another sweetheart. He's fifteen and has given himself the title of "doctor". He gives me a hard time about my coffee habits and enjoys a stimulating game of Uno. Yesterday he was jokingly talking in high and low pitched voices.

Yesterday Winston helped me wish my mom a happy mothers day. We called her and he serenaded her with a song over the phone lines and then wished her a "Happy African Mother's Day." It was great. We were both laughing really hard.

Yesterday I took a guitar up to deck 7 to sing some songs with the patients. I don't really play but I know a few chords (I later overheard Milton telling on of the nurses "Meggee tried to sing songs with us but she does not play very well. We will have to have Vera come down so we can sing). When we were singing, Alfred, a 14 year old patient who is a bit of a star on the ward if for no other reason then longevity, busted out a few "American Idol" style gospel performances. It was awesome. He sang these five minute gospel songs about the trials of Job and other topics with the flair and pizazz of Kirk Franklin. His eyes were closing, his head was swaying, and his hands were feeling the rhythm as he treated Gaye, Winston, and I to an impressive musical performance. While he sang, Gaye and I provided rhythmic clapping and snapping, and Gaye encouraged Aflred saying,
"Oh, Alfred I like your singing. I like your voice. You sound good."

If only I had the concert on tape. Maybe the will start Liberian Idol and Alfred can audition.

Before we went back inside, the men decided they all wanted their picture taken while holding the guitar. It was hysterical. They each totally seriously pretended they were playing while I snapped their photo.

Taking care of men isn't so bad after all.

playing favorites

these might be my most favorite photos from my time here.

they are definitely some of my favorite patients.

fears

My year here is almost over. In four weeks I will be leaving Liberia. Strange. Changes are never comfortable.

One of the reasons adequate pain control is so important in children is that they cannot distinguish between pain and anxiety. If the experience even a small amount of pain, this can blend with anxiety and explode into a ball of screams and cries. You cannot reason with children; and they don't know if something hurts or if they are just scared. It's not pleasant scenario for any party involved. Once a child reaches this threshold it takes a large amount of medication to bring their perceived pain under control.

As I think about leaving the ship, about plans for the future, I realize how important it is to fully trust God. I think about the babies I love holding on the ward. I always watch in amazement when they fall asleep on my chest. They are so relaxed, so dependent, so at ease. Their closeness causes you to naturally begin to study them. Their softly set eyes. There tiny pores. There delicate lips.

It's a beautiful picture of how we ought to be with God. Resting on Him in full dependence. Our souls totally dependent upon His ability to uphold us.

And I think of how fully He know us. He counts the hairs on our heads. He tenderly collects our tears. He has created and formed our inmost being.

I think of how precious we are to Him; we are His children. And He loves us perfectly.

1 John 4:18 says
There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear; because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.

Pain in life is inevitable. The world is a fallen place. If you live and breath you will at some point experience it. The future will in no doubt hold it in some degree, which can trigger an onslaught of irrational fears.

When I experience even a small amount of pain my anxiety and fears are escalated, and like an unreasoning child, the pain I think I am feeling is inflated to an unrealistic level. My fears can make a paper cut on a finger feel like an amputation of my arm.

This is not the fruit of walking in God's love. His love drives out fear.

I think this is because His love is completely unselfish and quite different from the love we are use to giving and receiving. It is not a love that feeds it's own needs or protects itself, it's a vulnerable extravagant love that actively looks to better someone else at it's own expense.

2 Corinthians 12:15
And I will very gladly spend and be spent for you; though the more abundantly I love you the less I be loved.

To be perfected in God's love is to be freed from the bondage of self. Of self reliance, self protection, self indulgence, self needs, self wants, self desires. Instead, it looks to better someone else. And because at this point the giver of love is not looking for anything in return, they have nothing to lose and therefore no need for fear. They have been perfected in love.

I pray that before I die I might learn in some small manner this kind of love. To give fully of oneself with no expectations. And no fears.

It's a very freeing thought.

a reason to cry

Augustus Jr. stepped on a nail last month. It killed him.
****
I was slowly pushing Augustus antibiotics when I learned his son had died about three weeks ago. His memorial service was the day before he was admitted to the ward for surgery.

Augustus was in an accident a few years ago that left his right arm deformed. He noticed that I am left handed and told me "I have been left handed for the past three years." By default I suppose. He had surgery to correct the arms position.

I felt so sad sitting at Augustus bedside as he told me about his son. Augustus Jr was 16 and his firstborn. He was a smart boy- already in the 10 th grade- and he planned on becoming a medical doctor. Your could tell Augustus was quite proud of him.

A few weeks ago he was walking through a construction site and he stepped on a nail. The nail might have cause an infection or possibly tetanus, Augustus didn't know. All he knew was that Augustus Jr. became very sick and a few days later died. When you don't have any access to health care you die from things like stepping on nails. It's a tragedy.

I asked Augustus if he had a photo of his son. He had a relative bring one in. Tonight I walked to the ward and was handed a program from the memorial service. On the cover was a photo of Augustus Jr. He looked like a regular happy 16 year old boy.

Augustus had me flip to the back of the program. In color copy ink there was a photo of Augustus Jr. when he was a small boy receiving an award in school and a photo of him with his little brother.

There are things in life that are universal. The acute pain caused by the death of a child is one of them.

I told Augustus I was so sorry for his loss and that his son looked like a wonderful boy. I told him that God knows His pain; He watched His Son die, and that He is the only one who could touch his heart. Grief is an independent journey. We can offer ourselves to those who grieve but it is a gross misconception to think we can in anyway understand their pain or emotions.

Although he was teary eyed, Augustus said he trusted God. He knew he would see his son again.

The faith of the Liberian people always amazes me. They have seen so much hardship and yet they remain unbitter. I would be bitter. It's humbling.

I promised to keep Augustus and his family in my prayers.