Saving a life....

Today many people on board were able to give a lifesaving gift to a dear patient that we have been calling Grandma. She is from far upcountry and has been waiting for this surgery for many many years. She's super sweet, a bit confused at times, full of hugs and smiles and absolutely wonderful. For the last week every time I walked past her she would reach out and hug me, speak sweet words to me in Fula and just smile looking longingly into my eyes. Often times sneaking up from behind while I wasn't paying attention just to lay her hands on me, pouring her love into me by osmosis. Today was a really rough day for her, and she's currently in the ICU and no where close to being out of the woods. She will go back to the OR first thing in the morning for another surgery due to complications during this one. Please pray for this sweet woman, she needs all the thoughts and prayers she can get right now...Check out my friend Josh's blog (who also happens to be from St. Louis!!) at jky2003.blogspot.com       he gave the gift of life today......I'm so proud of him and the community in which I am blessed to live.

Christmas the Africa Mercy Way

As the Christmas week began, it honestly felt funny. The air felt different here, and It felt weird to be on a ship in Africa. To be without snow, or at least the colder air. To be without my family and friends at home, and to be prepping for the holiday. To be sitting outside on a deck reading a book in the sun and not out hurrying around buying gifts, trying to make sure I find everyone the “perfect” thing. This Christmas has put so much in perspective, and reminded me that once again, my God provides--even when I doubt him. I headed into the season not really sure what to expect, allowing myself to remain even-keel. Not too excited, just in case things didn’t turn out alright. But I am happy to say that once again, I am reminded that I just need to trust in Him. I have felt loved every single minute of the last few weeks. Surrounded by friends, who are in the same boat---literally. We banded together, happy to be with our Mercy Ships family. We spent so much time together that it was easy to be reminded of our purpose here, to spend the Saviors birth in a place where we have all been called. My Christmas day was spent working on the wards, passing out the donated presents, loving on the patients, and honestly feeling so much love from them in return. We had a large community gathering to celebrate on Christmas Eve, and at the end we sang silent night. The song itself is so powerful, but to sing it in a room with so many people from all over the world singing the same words in English, Dutch, French, German, Spanish, Swedish (and those were just the ones we put on the screen for the rest of us non-native speakers to fumble through) Afterwards we gathered on the upper deck for a white elephant gift exchange, munching on snacks and gazing at the stars. All of the packages from the US and Europe were delayed and no-one was really able to receive their gifts from home on time. Everyone at home was really concerned that we wouldn’t have anything to open on Christmas-- But it really was okay. I was reminded that gifts are not what matter, but that family and friends are the most important thing. Without all the gifts, we were able to be wrapped up in the moment and enjoy what we did have--- each other from all corners of the globe. I have felt so amazing loved this holiday season by people from home. My email full of Christmas messages and well wishes, cards arrived in the mail from friends and from people that I haven’t even met----encouraging me and loving me from afar. I had one gift that snuck through and arrived in time and how it couldn’t have been more perfect. Christmas afternoon when I got off shift I sat in my room and opened a package of pure love--pictures and cards sent from my STL community. The beautiful notes from so many fantastic kiddos who I miss dearly. Some of my favorite cards said things like, “are you making friends?” “I really wish you would tell me something that is going on with you.”, and “I miss you, please come home”. It was beautiful, and a reminder that even though I am here reaching a whole new group of people, this community is temporary. That I still have a group of people, awaiting my arrival back into the States and our corner of the “real world”. So this holiday season I hope that you also felt loved, that you felt cared for, and that you know no matter where you are in the world you are special. Thank you for making a difference to someone, even if you don’t see that impact just yet.

All of us with our White Elephant gifts

Prayers for A

I have fallen face first in love........Yes, it’s true. Someone here in Africa has captured my heart. 

I call her Baby A, and she isn’t really that much of a baby, but a 4 year old beautiful girl. We admitted her on Monday for a biopsy for the tumor that is growing both inside and protruding out of her nose. The tumor has only been growing for five months, and she can no longer pass any air from her nasal passages. She was brought to us by her loving uncle, who until last night I thought was her father. This wonderful man has been taking care of her ever since the tumor started showing. Her mother is his youngest sister, and she doesn’t have the time to both care for her and make a living. Unfortunately like so many of the stories here, her father abandoned her when it started showing...Through it all though she is just a joyful little thing. From the minute I saw her and she gave me a wave with a twinkle in her eye, she stole my heart. Jonathan, one of the dayworkers actually started referring to her as my daughter yesterday because he doesn’t see us apart much. She spends her time playing and coloring while on my lap and pretending to type while I work on the computer for my charge nurse duties. She spends some quality time here and there strapped to my back, snuggling up as we fall fast into the rhythm of one another’s heartbeat. Yesterday we had a bit of praise for another patient on the ward and she was giggling from my back while I danced up a storm. She knows how to blow kisses, and just bats her eyelashes for anything she wants. She does this thing where she sighs, like its all just too exhausting, and thats when emotion bubbles up in me. Its just the same as the little boy in bed 6 that I told you about during the beginning of the outreach. This is the part where no matter what I do, I can’t save her. All I can do is love her, pray for her, and ask God to make her tumor something that we can change. She has so much love to give, and such a bright future and it wrecks me to know that these things may never happen for this beautiful girl. Last night after I put her to bed with a kiss and tucked her in just like my parents did for me when I was a kid it really hit me. This wonderful little girl may be labeled with an ugly word in the next 2 weeks: Cancer. Because she wouldn’t fall asleep and kept getting up and reaching for me I took an extra hour after my shift to snuggle her, to hold her close, and breathe words of life upon her. So there she sat on my lap, snuggled up with her legs wrapped around mine, rubbing my arm, and blowing kisses at my friend Jen. I can’t kiss her enough, love her enough, or tell her how wonderful she is enough. This is where I have to shrink back, give it up, know that My God has it in control, and that HE is the only thing that is enough. So please, if you can take a moment for Baby A over the next few days, just ask God to make this tumor something that we can surgically fix. Thanks for all the support you show this big hospital ship in Guinea, both I, Baby A, and all the other patients need you... 

Taking T home......

Last Friday, I had the honor of making a very special trip, one that I wouldn’t have missed for the world. I was invited to accompany T home to his aunt’s house here in Conakry. She lives about 50 minutes from the ship by Landrover, and will be a crucial step for him making his way back home to his village. This is a test to see how well he can care 100% for himself, and how his wound will continue to heal in a real Guinean environment. So after a long night, I walked myself home (all 50 steps), splashed some water on my face, and grabbed a cup of coffee. I wanted to be in tip top shape for this adventure, so I had to take a moment to pull myself together after 3 night shifts in a row. I headed out to the tent a tad early, and asked if he wanted to head into the ward to say an official good-bye to the dayworkers and nurses. YES! He shook his head excitedly, and took off towards the ship without his mother. The half hour we had on board was amazing. We happened to get to the wards in perfect timing, and our hospital chaplaincy team was beginning morning praise. T was given a hero’s welcome, because let’s face it--he is a legend on this big white ship. I daresay he has hit celebrity status and invaded the hearts of all those who have met him! He was able to sing, dance, and thank each of the nurses, hugs all around. As we were leaving he said, “what about Dr. Gary”? I told him Dr. Gary was in surgery so we wouldn’t be able to see him today, but then another dayworker happened to have spotted him in the screening room. I headed down to ask if he had a few minutes to see T. Dr. Gary was so excited, he bounded back up the hall and had a mini examination/consultation right there in the middle of the hallway. This is what I love about this place, Dr. Gary, one of the VERY best surgeons in the world has dedicated his life to caring for these people. He takes every opportunity to be with them, and is so tangibly excited by their success. His love just oozes out, and I wish honestly I could work with him forever. He takes every moment he can for teaching, both us and the patients and does it in such a genuinely loving way. Even with simple things like his word choice, he makes each person to feel important, holy and dearly loved. So after they guys had their moment in the hallway, we were given a royal send off---with all the chaplaincy team walking him to the door of the car and we set off for outer Conakry. It was a bumpy ride, but thanks to our Landrover and local driver we made it without delay. There we were also given such a warm welcome full of hugs, kisses, and hand holding. It seems that everyone in the area of her home made it out to welcome him back. Lots of men, aunties, children and even his grandma. We took a tour of the area, got to love on some kiddos, and I got to hold his grandmas hand for a good solid amount of time. It’s funny how even in Africa Grandma’s just have something special about them. In their beautifully lined faces, their soft skin, and the way they hold onto you. Since I didn’t get to love on my grandma this year for her birthday or Thanksgiving, I held T’s just that much tighter--thinking of all the grandma’s who give up time with their grandchildren so they can go and follow their dream to serve abroad and how their faith is similar to those here in Africa who put their loved ones into our hand, without hesitation hoping that we can change their lives. They both want what is best for their babies, sacrifice their own time because they want them to have a bigger and brighter future. (thank you grandma!)

After a few interviews on the media team’s side, a few pictures demanded by T, and lots of hugs, we piled back into the rover and headed home. It was great to see where he has started the next phase of his recovery, and to see his loving family. This man gets to make a future, to start over, a new lease on life. When we asked him what is next, his only thought was that maybe, just maybe, he would like to become a taxi driver. I am here to tell you that I would give anything for that man, and would happily let him drive me all over this beautiful green country. 

December is here!

I apologize for shutting you all out for almost 2 weeks! When I flipped to my blog today thinking “I should write an update” I had no idea that it had been that long since my last post. It’s amazingly easy to get caught up in the day by day here, working shifts, hanging out with friends, and forget that I have a group of faithful supporters who want to hear about what has become my new “normal” in my African home. These past two weeks have been wonderful, as most of the others have been also since my arrival onto the Africa Mercy. So sit back, relax, and prepare yourself....this will be a long one, jam packed with thoughts, stories, and pictures from Guinea. 

The 1st of December was a tough day around here. Two rocks in my Africa Mercy family headed home. Beth and Becky are two of the most loving, amazing, faithful people I have ever known. They were not rookies to the Africa Mercy, and took us all in- playing a key part in our little family. They were great examples of what it looks like to pour our hearts out on our patients, and an excellent reminder of God’s goodness and plan. I could rave about them all day, but the bottom line is this: Good-byes are exceptionally hard here. You live in a super tight community 24-7, eating three square meals a day together, working alongside them, worshiping with them, playing games, watching movies, relaxing, and de-briefing with them. It was said to me after first arriving that you could get closer to these people in three months than ever imaginable--and I see now, that is true. I will miss them something terrible, and It makes my gut hurt, knowing how many more of these will happen in the coming weeks. 

So after a proper AFM send off, what do you do when your heart is heavy and you’ve said a tough good-bye? You hug someone who is still here, be thankful for your blessings, and craft! We spent from 3-11 pm Sunday crafting the newest addition to the 3rd deck hallway. It was a fun, fantastic way to bring us all together on an otherwise gloomy feeling day. 

The idea of leaving, moving on, and trusting God with the plan has been a constant topic of conversation over the last few days. As I laid out on the deck with my dear friend Maura, looking at the stars, chatting about the past few months, it doesn’t seem real. God used so many different things to bring us all here, in his perfect timing. We all had to make the choice to leave our happy, safe, normal lives behind to come to a place where we knew no one. Here we made life long friends, had experiences that only we can understand, and then have to say goodbye. It’s exhausting, and so challenging to give so much of yourself over and then watch it walk off ship and back into your Western world. I wouldn’t trade a minute of it away, and I know that there will be many familiar faces returning and new friends to come, but as my wise friend Jasmin says-- “The amazing thing about traveling is that you get to befriend people from all over the world---but the other side of that is that no matter where you are in the world, no matter the adventure, you will always be missing someone”. So as heavy as my heart is, I have  been impacted and changed by these wonderful friends--

Ward Updates: Every day down in the ward makes my heart soar, and I feel so lucky to be a part of it.  B (our outgoing woman with the trach/feeding tube) has gone home, and been back several times to visit. Every time she barrels in with a new hairstyle, hugs everyone, dances around a bit, and then shuffles back out--all of our hearts leaping for joy over her success. 

S--the patient from the Peanut M&M’s story has made a miraculous recovery and he left Friday for the Hope Center. The night after his surgery his Mom kept a careful watch at his side, never once shutting an eye. When I sat next to her and asked why doesn’t she try to get a little sleep while he is resting, her answer was this. “Today I’m not hungry, I’m not thirsty, I’m not tired, I have no needs....Today is the day my baby has been changed, and I just want to sit here and look at him”. How’s that for powerful at 2am? Heart swelling, I understood. For so many of our patients we get to witness the day they never thought would ever come. For her, she thought she would witness her sons premature death after a long fight with a tumor so far out of their control, but instead she  is able to witness him blossom, rejuvenated, new life gained. Every day we had Mr. S I teased him, just to hear his laugh. I would cover him in stickers, blow bubbles at him, or tickle him, just to see his smile. He, like T, has a lot of extra skin to shrink back over the coming months. Even in the week and a half after his surgery his lips have amazingly shrunk to less than half their pre-operative size. To put it in perspective it was enough to make even Dr. Gary joke that he should have measured them for a research study. This last week he was regaining control of his facial muscles, and he has the most beautiful smile. He doesn’t have one of those little smirks, but literally a gigantic smile that lifts the corners of a mouth far stretched from the trouble that almost took his life. 

What is happening here is impossible to describe. Just yesterday, during an 8 hour shift as charge nurse in the wards I was faced with so many thoughts. We sent five people home, ranging in age from 1-40 and we brought in three new people who all have a story to tell. Of these three, two have already impacted me. The first was a woman who I received a call about at 6pm. She was late to the assembly area and missed the Mercy Ships shuttle through the port to the ship. She ran through the port, trying not to be left behind and then sat outside for almost 2 hours because unfortunately, I didn’t know she was there---so when I found her she was tearful, and worked up. When I walked outside to find her, I took one look at her and was hit square in the chest by the emotion on her face.  Desperation, fear, worry, and defeat. I can think to when I am racing a deadline, and that rush of adrenaline that hits. But for her, it was so much more. She was running,  scrapping to gain to control and then sitting with this thought--That if I am late, if I don’t make it onto that ship, that my chances of having this surgery, of having this life changed could be squashed. Gone in an instant because I was a few minutes late. After settling her in and getting her a solid meal I think she felt better, but the amount of desperation, of her future depending on this surgery....whew, its exhausting! How’s that for an emotional load to carry?

The second is of our newest cleft lip patient. She is joyful, excited, and a little ball of energy. As I played with her, finding coloring books and stickers, bubbles and balloons this thought crept in... I was born into a country that regardless of my physical appearance or mental ability I was given the right to receive an education- No questions asked. For the beautiful 6 year old girl in bed 10 that has not been an option. Education is what her grandmother, grinning ear to ear yesterday, was most excited for. She told me within 10 minutes of meeting her not only how blessed I am and how she is asking God to change my life for changing her grand-baby’s lip, but that because of Mercy Ships she will now be allowed into school--and that’s the part that dug into me. It’s easy to get used to the physical changes we are making here, to get wrapped up in the day to day, and forget all of the other things under the surface. The emotional healing, spiritual healing, and practical opportunities these changes create.

I recently had a friend ask how I have the energy to connect with every patient. And my honest answer is this-- I don’t, and as one person I couldn’t possibly carry that load. I don’t connect with every patient, and as many as I tell you about have gone by without me really ever getting to know them. There are beautiful stories happening in our ward and the other wards that I am not a part of and I will never have the insider perspective on. I tell you about the ones who impact me, and even though I don’t connect with every single patient, thankfully there is one of us who does. God has put different patients on different hearts to care for, to pour out his love on, and to make know that they are special, not forgotten-but dearly loved by him.

With all of that said, I think I owe you all this confession: My soul fits here, it feels like home, and I feel as though this is the exact place I am supposed to be. I don’t feel a stirring saying “its time to move on”, “you need to be doing more” or find myself  doubting my chosen path. I finally found my place. The place where I can connect the service I am passionate about and the skills that God gave me to be a nurse. I’ve said a lot since graduating that I’m not sure I want to be a nurse forever, but If I could do this job every day then I would be complete. One way that I know I am where I am supposed to be, is that I am in this beautiful tension of missing home, but not able to bear the thought of leaving here. My soul feels pulled here, rooted by both gravity and Jesus. I am not finished yet, my work is not done, and I have barely made it half way through my journey. 

Looking forward, here are a few things to be excited for: 

• The return of Beth and Noemie two Africa Mercy favorites, and the arrival of my dear friend Allison from STL coming to spend one month on board! 
• The amazing adventure that will happen when a small group of us get to spend Dec 27th to Jan 1st trekking far upcountry during our vacation time.....
• And my favorite of all--something I need prayer for, is that there is a possibility myself and Brenda (The Outpatient Team Leader) will get approved to make a trip to take T home to his village....how amazing would it be to meet all the faces he has known for years and be welcomed into his home. To see his impact on all of them who doubted his survival, and to witness their initial first glances at a changed man. 

Thanks for being faithful, and for sticking with me to the end. I hope each of you is having a joyful start to the holiday season!

Peanut M&M's---

Today, three of my favorite gals and I headed off ship to enjoy a day in the sun before 2 of them leave this coming weekend. As we sat poolside with our sunscreen lathered on, books in hand, and hummus at side we began chatting. This story was told to me through my friend Beth who is amazingly wise and has such a heart for the Lord and her work. It brought such powerful emotion up in me, and I hope that you can feel the weight of her words and this beautiful story across the ocean. 

Mr. S that I told you about in the last post has been integrating fairly well to the D ward world. He most of the time just sits in his little area around his bed with his mom, and takes in the action with his big beautiful brown eyes. A few times he has crossed the ward to see what the commotion is on the other side of the wall, but for the most part stays to his own territory like a skittish little bird. Beth has been able to love him so well over the last few days, and has made some progress with him feeling comfortable. On Saturday she asked him if he would like to go upstairs to enjoy some fresh air with the other patients during our hospital wide Deck 7 time. To her disappointment he said No, but she understood his hesitation so she decided to see if he would consider going the next day after he built up a little more courage. Yes, he said, tomorrow he would go. Sunday afternoon rolled around and as it approached 230 she saw him hop into bed and pull the covers over his head. “Ohh no” she thought, she knew this tactic all to well. She saw straight through his teenage boy mind, and desperately wanted to change it. So instead of just letting him be a typical teenage boy she thought of a better plan. She went to her room and grabbed a bag of peanut M&M’s. She approached him and his mother holding the candy out like bait. She asked S if he was feeling up to going outside, and that if he was, he could share some candy with her. (What she also mentioned is that she was a tad concerned if he would be able to eat crunchy M&M’s with his tumor. But in her wonderful mind of a pediatric nurse, she remembered he had chewed a multivitamin that morning---so M&M’s should be just fine!) Quickly S looked from Beth, to his mom, to the M&M’s and back to Beth with a nervous look in his eyes. Beth says that Mom stood up instantly, as if to say “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to get some candy!” To her joy, S decided to go also, but he took his piece of fabric along. She took them 4 flights of stairs up, out into the sunshine, and placed three chairs all in a row for them. She said he sat there for awhile, only eyes peering out of the cloth. Next, he started to take it down a bit after he realized no one was looking at him, and then a bit later after realizing there truly was no one there to shame him, the whole thing came down. So there they sat-- Beth, S, and his mom. The three of them in a little row, munching on M&M’s. They were sitting for a few minutes taking in the beautiful view, when our lady who had the basketball sized goiter removed picked up her chair, walked over to them carrying her drain, put it next to them and sat down without a word, staring off into the ocean. Next the man from bed four who just had the second part of his surgery to remove a large facial tumor did the same, he stood, hobbled over and sat down silently next to them, looking out onto the horizon. Next the two mommas from beds 9 and 13 came with their chairs, lugging their two year old boys alongside to sit in the row with the rest of their D ward family. A few more gathered, all without saying a word. All of them silently came, ready to support S, who had taken such a brave leap and came outside with the rest of them. In my mind I see them all, just sitting around him as if to say “you mess with him, you mess with all of us”. They all could have stayed away, but instead made the choice to move their chairs to make him feel welcome, loved, and supported. It’s such a beautiful picture of what community looks like here. S, who has been ridiculed and outcast for 3 years has spent 2 days in a tight living situation with 20 other people, and they are already in silent but powerful ways wrapping their loving arms around him. They each know his pain, know his struggle, and are there walking alongside him in it. I am just so thankful for what we have here, and know how rare it is. Never in the western world would you head into the hospital for an operation, sleep in the same room with 20-30 other people, all share one toilet, and leave with new friends-- stronger, encouraged, and maybe feeling your worth for the first time. This place is a constant wonderful reminder of God’s unfailing, unchanging, unending love for us. That he loves each of us,  knows our needs, and knows how to create little ways to make us all a comfortable place in his world---and sometimes it all starts with one bag of Peanut M&M’s.  

Updates and photos from D ward....

Last night I had to tell a woman, two days post-op from having a goiter removed that maybe she should take dancing a little slower until her neck heals. This is how the situation went down. She is from upcountry and speaks a language that few of our translators do (and none on shift that night did), but to our rescue was the man two beds down who so proudly told me he speaks 4 languages. So there was quite a lovely triangle: I would tell the translator something, who would translate to French to him, who would translate into Pular to her. Then the triangle would reverse and the message would get back to me. We carried on a conversation this way for a bit, talking about the medicine I was going to give her, how he skin would continue to shrink just like a mothers stomach after she gives birth, and when her suction drain would come out. It went very well, and at the very end I asked does she need anything else or have any questions....down the chain it went, and this time a message was returning that each person smiled after hearing. The translator turned to me, and said with such a straight face, “She wants to dance with you”. I burst into laughter, went to find a drum and there we had the most amazing, impromptu dance party I have had on this ship or possibly ever. Did I mention that the goiter was literally the size of a basketball and she has a hemoglobin value so low that I would transfuse blood at home, and here she was literally jumping up and down in front of me joined by all the other lovely ladies from the ward her joy shining like a light, a beacon for all those who have been touched by God’s healing hands. 

I’m including a few pictures of our current favorite lady. She has been on the ward for about 2 weeks and time with her is pure bliss. She has kept us entertained, and with constant smiles on our faces. She is a riot, always stirring some sort of mischief up, dancing like a fool, or braiding someones hair. She had her trach and feeding tube removed a few days ago, and actually will be heading home to her husband and babies today. We will greatly miss her sense of humor, hugs, and encouragement..... 

Notice her trach and feeding tube.....can't stop this ball of sunshine

Our patient who loves to color-- his walls are literally coved in pictures now! 

A group of our D ward team---and that lovely patient again!

Happy as a clam!

This guy needs a hand to go anywhere....he is
really special and a wonderful reminder
that sometimes all you need is a little extra attention......his picture is above 

My gorgeous friend Becky and two of the Mommas
 on the ward (on the Left is T's mom)

She is a riot!

My lovely friend Emily

G is such a ham!

Our lovely Grandma "H"

Even he tube feeding can't stop her from getting in front of the camera...

One last thing.... Friday we admitted a 17 year old they found during upcountry screening who we will call S. He has the same type of tumor that T did, and his actually may be bigger. His has only been growing for 3 years, and somehow he is still able to breathe and eat without complication. He came in, head and neck completely covered by fabric and stayed that way for some time. After many smiling faces greeted him and made him to feel welcome, the cloth came down a bit. Then as the evening progressed it came off little by little until he has completely removed it, revealing a tumor stemming from his right cheek. It is from directly below his eye down to his chest stretching his skin and mouth in a way that you can no longer see inside, but rather all you see is tumor. That evening I let him pick the movie and told him that since he is the newest patient on the unit he gets to do the honor. After many minutes of careful consideration he chose “UP”. I told him it was one of my favorites and he made a great choice! As much as I understand his caution, I am so insanely thankful that he has felt welcome here. That already he somehow knows he doesn’t need to be ashamed, and that we will love and care for him despite his appearance. He is super silly, loves to color, has a beautiful little laugh, and like T has the most expressive eyes. His tumor has displaced his nose to the Left side of his face, is necrotic in spots, smells pretty awful, and drains constantly, but in my eyes he is perfect. He is one of God’s lovely children and he has made it here. He has found hope, and I can’t wait to see his story further unfold. He has been scheduled for surgery on Tuesday. I am asking if you all can think about him and pray for him like you did for T. He is younger and stronger, but this surgery is something that will take all hands on deck to pull off.......So as you head into your week please take a few moments each day to think of S over here in Guinea as we head into this life changing process for him.