Sorry for the long delay folks in updating this. Our internet was hit by lightening about three weeks back and we have only just been able to get it back working. And, thankfully, just in time for Christmas :)
A wee story for you that has had me smiling at the oddest times over this past weekend. We have the daughter of a chief from a a different district at our hospital for treatment. At first, I was a little intimidated by her, not knowing how, culturally, I should treat her. A chief is a big thing and he and his family demand utmost respect. But actually, she turned out to be pretty chill and quite a lovely lady and we've become friends.
There is also a little girl, maybe about five (mom doesn't know what year she was born, but she hasn't started school yet), the daughter of one of our patients. Her name is Joy, and that name is a perfect fit for her. She always has a huge, slightly shy grin on her face, dancing eyes, and just the sweetest little personality. She has taken to following me around quite often as I go about my work at hospital. She has also decided she really likes the chief's daughter and I've seen them share many long chats together. From what this lady has told me, she is quite the little personality!
Little Joy has one dress, a summer dress that once was cream with pink flowers. Now, it is grey, almost black in places, and a bit ragged.
I noticed one day that her dress didn't seem so filthy any more. I asked my friend about it and very nonchalantly she replied 'oh, I took it and washed it'
A few days later, I stopped to greet the cheif's daughter and we chatted for a few minutes in the corridor before our little friend pranced up to join us, wearing, I noticed immediately, a brand new chitengi outfit with a long sleeved shirt and shoes, and very proudly showed off to me the two kwacha coins she was holding.
"Ah, this one is a good girl" my friend pronounced. Everything she gets she must share with her mama. I gave her a scone yesterday and she ate half and took the other half to her mama. Today I have given her two kwacha so she can get two scones, one for each of them."
I laughed and because I am still learning only the language gave my little friend a tickle and sent her off to get her scones.
"But where did she get the new clothes?" I asked once she was gone
"Oh, I gave them to her. She told me when she was putting them on 'I've never has these before'. She was meaning panties. She has never had before. The Bible says 'if we have we are to give to those who do not have'. That means if I have two or three pairs of panties, I am to share with the one who doesn't. That is part of what being a Christian is, we take care of others. And at least, this Christmas she will have something to smile about."
My first reaction was a bit shocked- I never would have paraphrased that passage is quite that raw sort of way. But then I smiled and I have been smiling ever since. This lady nailed it right on the head, yeah it's raw and maybe to some a bit vulgar or crude, but it's real. It's that verse- in as much as you have done it unto the least of these (a poor little girl from an unknown village, not even in this lady's district, the youngest of 7 children) you have done it unto Me.
I don't think my friend realized just how many people she has made smile this Christmas. Yes my little friend Joy, but her parents also, myself, my missionary colleagues I have shared this story with, perhaps some of you, the angels in heaven, and yes, even our Lord Himself- a kindness like this done to the least of His He counts as being done to Himself.
I think it's so amazing to see. This lady has power and position. She has the best of everything that one can possibly have up here in rural Africa. The position is more than just a mayor's daughter, the prestige and power that go along with it are huge! Perhaps, closer to a minor king's daughter. And she noticed this little girl and showed a huge kindness to her.
This little anecdote reminds me of a verse in Paul's first letter to the Corinthians: tho He was rich, yet for our sakes He became poor, that we thru His poverty might become rich.
He is the Son of a great King and He noticed us when we were filthy and covered in sin and shame and not fit to greet him never mind to wander freely into His space and sit down and chat. But He noticed us and loved us and He gave away all His riches in order to clean us up and wash the sin stains off our soul and so present us to faultless to the Father.
Now, I didn't expect this to turn into a Gospel message, but there you have it. My little friend Joy had a choice to make, she could have refused the gift the chief's daughter offered her. But if we could speak to her she would laugh at us if we even suggested such a thing. And we have a choice too, we can refuse to accept God's gift of salvation through His Son, but that means eternal separation from God. Or we can come humbly and thankfully and receive this great gift God has offered us- salvation, forgiveness of sins, and the beautiful robe of righteousness that only His people will wear.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little story as much as I did. It certainly has made me smile this Christmas. I think it's the best Christmas gift I could have received this year.
Hope you all enjoy your Christmas!!! Greetings to all of you! I think and pray for so many of you each day. I can't be with you, but as Paul wrote to the Phillipian believers: 'I have you in my heart'
Merry Christmas
Tuesday 23 December 2014
Thursday 6 November 2014
Day by Day
Theatre day
Busy morning running around with wards, the chronic clinic, back in the afternoon to help with theatres.
Patient on the table: reversal of colostomy
General anaesthetic
Drawing up the meds for JR,
Chloramphenicol, the antibiotic
Halothane in the ventilator
Ketamine to sedate
Suxamethasone to paralyze
Rocuronium to relax the muscles
Neostigmine and atropine to reverse
Atropine and ephidrine on the side in case the heart rate or the BP drops
Patient comes down to theatres from Lukulu DH- diagnosis rectovesical fistula, reason for transfer further management. Visiting doctor, Dr. Paul Meyers goes to review. We can smell the patient from across the hallway and into the minor procedures room. "When you're finished here, give this other patient ampicillin, ciprofloxicin, and flagyl, max doses for all. And bolus him 1 litre IV fluids.
Pay attention to the task on hand
Pre oxygenate the patient to 100%
50 mg ketamine... Wait... Kaumba? Still responding, another 25 of ketamine ... Wait... Kaumba? ...No response...patient asleep.
100 g of sux... Wait for the patient to twitch... Great! paralyzed
Hand JR the laryngoscope, she sees the vocal cords, hand her the endo tracheal tube
Tube in, attached to ventilator, check to make sure equal bilateral air entry into lungs. Yup! Secure tube to face and switch ventilator on.
"Here are the rest of your meds JR. Antibiotic already in. I'm out to see this other patient. Shout if you need me."
Big man... Maybe 75kg?
The smell is overpowering!
Remember the conversation overheard between dr. Paul and dr. David... "Touched the area and GAS came out"
(GAS as in group A strept, not as in gasoline or flatus) :S
The man struggles for breath, respiratory acidosis and hypoxia, trying to compensate for the build up of carbon dioxide
Restless and agitated and clearly in pain he tosses from one side to the other
"Ok Wilson, I need you to lie still, I need to put two cannulas in so we can give you some medicine"
If he's hearing me, he shows no sign of it as he twists his body around to the other side.
First cannula, in the back of the hand- fail. Second, in the antecubital fossa (the inside of the elbow) in... But maybe tissued, not sure, check later. Third, in the other antecubital fossa, success, leave to get IV lines, return to find cannula on the floor... Sigh... Confused patients... Recannulate
Two IVs in. IV fluids running. Turn to counter to spike flagyl to run thru other cannula (checked to make its working). Hear him thrashing and a bit more restless, turn to find him half off the table. Drop IV stuff and reach for him. Too late
"Help! I need help in here!"
JR and Chilanda come running
Me on the floor next to this huge man, checking responses, checking my cannulas, checking oxygen level and heart rate. JR brings BP machine to check BP. Everything is ok
"At least he didn't hit his head"
Conscript the guard at the door and three random bystanders to help lift him up off the floor to a trolley with rails.
Alone with my patient again.
"Help me! Please help me!"
"We're trying Wilson. Just hang in there, ok?"
Get antibiotics running, add gentamycin and ceftriaxone.
Non rebreather mask on so patient is receiving 100% oxygen. So agitated and restless and confused. Fighting to take the mask off. Literally fighting with this big man to keep the mask on
"Help me!"
"We're trying Wilson. Please leave the mask on, ok! Doctor's gonna finish this operation and then do yours ok, just hang in there."
Find a few story like tracts to read to him, to sorta keep him focused. 'The richest man in the valley will die tonight, the richest man being the one who knew Christ as Saviour.'
"Do you know Christ as Saviour? "
Time passes.... Very slowly, the clock is on the wall right next to me. I can see each minute pass...
I start to hum, my usual retreat when waiting (patiently)
'Day by day and with each passing moment, strength I find to meet my trials here'
I savour the thought behind each line. Don't we have an amazing, loving, wonderful God. Even when things are bad, He is still amazing and wonderful and loving. Even right here in this moment He is with my patient, He is enduring with him the terrible agony he is suffering. He has brought him here at this time for eternal purposes that I can never know and never understand until I have reached the other side. Oh! But why didn't they send him yesterday? Yesterday when they first told dr. David they were sending him.
"JR can you come look at him, he's not doing so great. "
Check blood sugar. 22.1 Check with fam- no known history of diabetes. Give 10units actrapid
Time passes... Nearly 45 mins ...
"He's not fighting me for the mask anymore and none of my pulse oximetry are picking up a reading"
Blood sugar is 15.4 so that's ok
Heart beat auscultated and about 100 beats... Doing ok...
"Sorry JR, I think we're losing him... He's not hardly breathing anymore. Are they going to be finished surgery soon?"
Another 30 mins
Unable to get BP, unable to auscultate heart beat, eyes glassy and fixed, not even responding to me callig his name
I see the doctors out. "David, Paul, please come look at him, he looks terrible."
I know that look. That look from the patient when they can't fight anymore and that look from the doctor when we can't do anything more.
5 mins they stood there... "It's probably better we didn't do surgery... He wouldn't've tolerated the anaesthetic, and likely would've died on the table. At least this way, he doesn't have huge fasciotomy wounds in the area...."
Time of death : 1815
Pull out the cannulas, straighten the patient out to the family
"I'm so sorry! We did all we could, it was just too late"
And the wailing starts
Too late. We were too late to help him...
I wonder where his soul is now?
Sorry, no happy ending here... this is the rough side of life in the bush... the rough side of life...
but He has a plan, a sovereign, plan made from before time began. He knows why... and I ... I don't know why... but I trust Him
Every day, the Lord Himself is near me
With a special mercy for each hour;
All my cares He fain would bear, and cheer me,
He Whose Name is Counselor and Pow’r.
The protection of His child and treasure
Is a charge that on Himself He laid;
“As thy days, thy strength shall be in measure,”
This the pledge to me He made.
Help me then in every tribulation
So to trust Thy promises, O Lord,
That I lose not faith’s sweet consolation
Offered me within Thy holy Word.
Help me, Lord, when toil and trouble meeting,
E’er to take, as from a father’s hand,
One by one, the days, the moments fleeting,
Till I reach the promised land.
Busy morning running around with wards, the chronic clinic, back in the afternoon to help with theatres.
Patient on the table: reversal of colostomy
General anaesthetic
Drawing up the meds for JR,
Chloramphenicol, the antibiotic
Halothane in the ventilator
Ketamine to sedate
Suxamethasone to paralyze
Rocuronium to relax the muscles
Neostigmine and atropine to reverse
Atropine and ephidrine on the side in case the heart rate or the BP drops
Patient comes down to theatres from Lukulu DH- diagnosis rectovesical fistula, reason for transfer further management. Visiting doctor, Dr. Paul Meyers goes to review. We can smell the patient from across the hallway and into the minor procedures room. "When you're finished here, give this other patient ampicillin, ciprofloxicin, and flagyl, max doses for all. And bolus him 1 litre IV fluids.
Pay attention to the task on hand
Pre oxygenate the patient to 100%
50 mg ketamine... Wait... Kaumba? Still responding, another 25 of ketamine ... Wait... Kaumba? ...No response...patient asleep.
100 g of sux... Wait for the patient to twitch... Great! paralyzed
Hand JR the laryngoscope, she sees the vocal cords, hand her the endo tracheal tube
Tube in, attached to ventilator, check to make sure equal bilateral air entry into lungs. Yup! Secure tube to face and switch ventilator on.
"Here are the rest of your meds JR. Antibiotic already in. I'm out to see this other patient. Shout if you need me."
Big man... Maybe 75kg?
The smell is overpowering!
Remember the conversation overheard between dr. Paul and dr. David... "Touched the area and GAS came out"
(GAS as in group A strept, not as in gasoline or flatus) :S
The man struggles for breath, respiratory acidosis and hypoxia, trying to compensate for the build up of carbon dioxide
Restless and agitated and clearly in pain he tosses from one side to the other
"Ok Wilson, I need you to lie still, I need to put two cannulas in so we can give you some medicine"
If he's hearing me, he shows no sign of it as he twists his body around to the other side.
First cannula, in the back of the hand- fail. Second, in the antecubital fossa (the inside of the elbow) in... But maybe tissued, not sure, check later. Third, in the other antecubital fossa, success, leave to get IV lines, return to find cannula on the floor... Sigh... Confused patients... Recannulate
Two IVs in. IV fluids running. Turn to counter to spike flagyl to run thru other cannula (checked to make its working). Hear him thrashing and a bit more restless, turn to find him half off the table. Drop IV stuff and reach for him. Too late
"Help! I need help in here!"
JR and Chilanda come running
Me on the floor next to this huge man, checking responses, checking my cannulas, checking oxygen level and heart rate. JR brings BP machine to check BP. Everything is ok
"At least he didn't hit his head"
Conscript the guard at the door and three random bystanders to help lift him up off the floor to a trolley with rails.
Alone with my patient again.
"Help me! Please help me!"
"We're trying Wilson. Just hang in there, ok?"
Get antibiotics running, add gentamycin and ceftriaxone.
Non rebreather mask on so patient is receiving 100% oxygen. So agitated and restless and confused. Fighting to take the mask off. Literally fighting with this big man to keep the mask on
"Help me!"
"We're trying Wilson. Please leave the mask on, ok! Doctor's gonna finish this operation and then do yours ok, just hang in there."
Find a few story like tracts to read to him, to sorta keep him focused. 'The richest man in the valley will die tonight, the richest man being the one who knew Christ as Saviour.'
"Do you know Christ as Saviour? "
Time passes.... Very slowly, the clock is on the wall right next to me. I can see each minute pass...
I start to hum, my usual retreat when waiting (patiently)
'Day by day and with each passing moment, strength I find to meet my trials here'
I savour the thought behind each line. Don't we have an amazing, loving, wonderful God. Even when things are bad, He is still amazing and wonderful and loving. Even right here in this moment He is with my patient, He is enduring with him the terrible agony he is suffering. He has brought him here at this time for eternal purposes that I can never know and never understand until I have reached the other side. Oh! But why didn't they send him yesterday? Yesterday when they first told dr. David they were sending him.
"JR can you come look at him, he's not doing so great. "
Check blood sugar. 22.1 Check with fam- no known history of diabetes. Give 10units actrapid
Time passes... Nearly 45 mins ...
"He's not fighting me for the mask anymore and none of my pulse oximetry are picking up a reading"
Blood sugar is 15.4 so that's ok
Heart beat auscultated and about 100 beats... Doing ok...
"Sorry JR, I think we're losing him... He's not hardly breathing anymore. Are they going to be finished surgery soon?"
Another 30 mins
Unable to get BP, unable to auscultate heart beat, eyes glassy and fixed, not even responding to me callig his name
I see the doctors out. "David, Paul, please come look at him, he looks terrible."
I know that look. That look from the patient when they can't fight anymore and that look from the doctor when we can't do anything more.
5 mins they stood there... "It's probably better we didn't do surgery... He wouldn't've tolerated the anaesthetic, and likely would've died on the table. At least this way, he doesn't have huge fasciotomy wounds in the area...."
Time of death : 1815
Pull out the cannulas, straighten the patient out to the family
"I'm so sorry! We did all we could, it was just too late"
And the wailing starts
Too late. We were too late to help him...
I wonder where his soul is now?
Sorry, no happy ending here... this is the rough side of life in the bush... the rough side of life...
but He has a plan, a sovereign, plan made from before time began. He knows why... and I ... I don't know why... but I trust Him
Day by day, and with each passing moment,
Strength I find, to meet my trials here;
Trusting in my Father’s wise bestowment,
I’ve no cause for worry or for fear.
He Whose heart is kind beyond all measure
Gives unto each day what He deems best—
Lovingly, its part of pain and pleasure,
Mingling toil with peace and rest.
Strength I find, to meet my trials here;
Trusting in my Father’s wise bestowment,
I’ve no cause for worry or for fear.
He Whose heart is kind beyond all measure
Gives unto each day what He deems best—
Lovingly, its part of pain and pleasure,
Mingling toil with peace and rest.
With a special mercy for each hour;
All my cares He fain would bear, and cheer me,
He Whose Name is Counselor and Pow’r.
The protection of His child and treasure
Is a charge that on Himself He laid;
“As thy days, thy strength shall be in measure,”
This the pledge to me He made.
Help me then in every tribulation
So to trust Thy promises, O Lord,
That I lose not faith’s sweet consolation
Offered me within Thy holy Word.
Help me, Lord, when toil and trouble meeting,
E’er to take, as from a father’s hand,
One by one, the days, the moments fleeting,
Till I reach the promised land.
Wednesday 24 September 2014
I'm home
Playing catch up: three posts in one day ;)
Home
Back in Zambia- at last!
I had a lot of people ask me when I was home "does Zambia feel like home now?" Or "do you feel like you don't really have a home anymore?" And I didn't really have a good answer for them... Or at least I didn't have a very thought through answer. Maybe partially because I didn't really know myself... Didn't know my own self... But driving down the great east road with the crazy, scary traffic it was familiar; the smell of sultry afternoon and sweating crowds and steamy pavement mixed with the hustle of a city bursting at its seams, it was familiar. The red and brown and green landscape as the plane circled overhead, it was an old familiar dream. The coolness of the evening, the crickets, the breeze, the quietness from the busy bustling day life, I've been here before. The Zambian- isms that so easily slip from my tongue and my behaviour "madam, can I change you a ten for that fifty?" It's not even unthinkable to be held up at the grocery cashier because they don't have change for the cash I gave them. "It's Africa" will slip from my tongue with a laugh and a roll of the eye again I'm sure but today it wasn't "Africa" it was home. That place you come to to relax, to let loose, to be yourself.
And yet, I was just home. But in a different way...
It's as normal to me to be held up for change at the cashier as it is to map out a route in transit through the city or walk thru shady park of orange and yellow trees, or stop at Tim's twice in one day. Midland is home, Toronto is home, Zambia is home
I have a home in each place, and variations of who I am are more prominent in each place, and things that I enjoy differ in each place, and people I hold dear may never cross the line from one place to the other. But each is home.
Yes Zambia feels like home and no I don't feel like I don't have a home... But yes Zambia does fit like an oversized glove at times and yes I wish that all the people I love could all be in the same spot- that easily accessible spot where I can visit you all without travelling around the globe
But I almost think it's better this way... See.. This nomadic type lifestyle that I'm living now reminds me: actually this world is not your home. My home is in heaven with my Master and my Saviour. I'm just passing through here for a little while. For a time my home is in Canada and for a time in Zambia, and perhaps somewhere else if my Lord wills it. But at the end of my day, at the end of my story I will go to my real home where my Father lives. And the exciting thing is- those of you who I love, who love the Lord will be there also and there will be no separation there.
I was so excited when I first saw that sign in July- "welcome to Canada" to me it was saying "welcome home!" And I teared up a little. But now that I'm back here in Zambia, laughing about the kids shouting "chindele", discussing the patients in the hospital (haven't been up to Chito yet, just catching up from folks), picking out groceries to last hopefully about 2 mos, waiting while the server at the cashier runs across the street somewhere? to get your burger- this is also home. The smells, the sounds, the sights- home.
But I'm learning not to hold one place too dear, not to hold on too tightly because it hurts, it hurts hard when the Father has to pry something from out my hand. And if I'm holding that tightly to what He is trying to make me let go than I am not able to reach for Him; I'm reaching for that thing. And that becomes sin. Harsh, hard lesson. But He makes us able both 'to will and to do of His good pleasure.'
So, I had an amazing visit home, thrilled to catch up with you! Sorry, it wasn't long enough! And now I'm home, my heart is singing "I'm back in Zambia again", looking forward to greeting my Zambian family and friends again and looking forward to newsy letters from you all
And I hope you'll forgive me this cheesy song here, it's a fun one to sing to, has a catchy tune, but it really sums up my thoughts :
This world is not my home
I'm just a'passing thru
My treasures are laid up
Somewhere beyond the blue
The angels beckon me
From heaven's open door
And I can't feel at home
In this world anymore
Oh Lord You know
I have no friend like You
If heaven's not my home
Then Lord what would I do
The angels beckon me
From heavens open door
And I can't feel at home
In this world anymore
Home
Back in Zambia- at last!
I had a lot of people ask me when I was home "does Zambia feel like home now?" Or "do you feel like you don't really have a home anymore?" And I didn't really have a good answer for them... Or at least I didn't have a very thought through answer. Maybe partially because I didn't really know myself... Didn't know my own self... But driving down the great east road with the crazy, scary traffic it was familiar; the smell of sultry afternoon and sweating crowds and steamy pavement mixed with the hustle of a city bursting at its seams, it was familiar. The red and brown and green landscape as the plane circled overhead, it was an old familiar dream. The coolness of the evening, the crickets, the breeze, the quietness from the busy bustling day life, I've been here before. The Zambian- isms that so easily slip from my tongue and my behaviour "madam, can I change you a ten for that fifty?" It's not even unthinkable to be held up at the grocery cashier because they don't have change for the cash I gave them. "It's Africa" will slip from my tongue with a laugh and a roll of the eye again I'm sure but today it wasn't "Africa" it was home. That place you come to to relax, to let loose, to be yourself.
And yet, I was just home. But in a different way...
It's as normal to me to be held up for change at the cashier as it is to map out a route in transit through the city or walk thru shady park of orange and yellow trees, or stop at Tim's twice in one day. Midland is home, Toronto is home, Zambia is home
I have a home in each place, and variations of who I am are more prominent in each place, and things that I enjoy differ in each place, and people I hold dear may never cross the line from one place to the other. But each is home.
Yes Zambia feels like home and no I don't feel like I don't have a home... But yes Zambia does fit like an oversized glove at times and yes I wish that all the people I love could all be in the same spot- that easily accessible spot where I can visit you all without travelling around the globe
But I almost think it's better this way... See.. This nomadic type lifestyle that I'm living now reminds me: actually this world is not your home. My home is in heaven with my Master and my Saviour. I'm just passing through here for a little while. For a time my home is in Canada and for a time in Zambia, and perhaps somewhere else if my Lord wills it. But at the end of my day, at the end of my story I will go to my real home where my Father lives. And the exciting thing is- those of you who I love, who love the Lord will be there also and there will be no separation there.
I was so excited when I first saw that sign in July- "welcome to Canada" to me it was saying "welcome home!" And I teared up a little. But now that I'm back here in Zambia, laughing about the kids shouting "chindele", discussing the patients in the hospital (haven't been up to Chito yet, just catching up from folks), picking out groceries to last hopefully about 2 mos, waiting while the server at the cashier runs across the street somewhere? to get your burger- this is also home. The smells, the sounds, the sights- home.
But I'm learning not to hold one place too dear, not to hold on too tightly because it hurts, it hurts hard when the Father has to pry something from out my hand. And if I'm holding that tightly to what He is trying to make me let go than I am not able to reach for Him; I'm reaching for that thing. And that becomes sin. Harsh, hard lesson. But He makes us able both 'to will and to do of His good pleasure.'
So, I had an amazing visit home, thrilled to catch up with you! Sorry, it wasn't long enough! And now I'm home, my heart is singing "I'm back in Zambia again", looking forward to greeting my Zambian family and friends again and looking forward to newsy letters from you all
And I hope you'll forgive me this cheesy song here, it's a fun one to sing to, has a catchy tune, but it really sums up my thoughts :
This world is not my home
I'm just a'passing thru
My treasures are laid up
Somewhere beyond the blue
The angels beckon me
From heaven's open door
And I can't feel at home
In this world anymore
Oh Lord You know
I have no friend like You
If heaven's not my home
Then Lord what would I do
The angels beckon me
From heavens open door
And I can't feel at home
In this world anymore
Thoughts from Ireland
Here I am again, snuggled down in the same bed as just over a year ago, "Father, thank you" my heart whispers. I know this place, I love this place, I met God in this place.
The last time I was here, I read in Peter, though you suffer a little while God himself shall come to strengthen restore establish and confirm you.
Though you suffer a little while... Have I suffered? No, not really, definitely not the way these Christians were, definitely not the way hundreds are suffering now in the Middle East. But I have struggled. This past year was not easy. This past year I let go of so many things. I didn't want to. I don't want to. Even now, part of me still wants to run back to my comfortable safe haven. The place where I know and am known. But my heart has decided- what is more important? Sorry... What is most important?
and the echoing cry of my heart comes back
That I may know Him
And be found in Him
Not having my own righteousness
But the righteousness that comes of God thru faith.
That I may know Him
That's it. For me, that's the final stop, the apex, the most important thing- knowing him.
Paul then writes, "forgetting what is behind, I press on."
Forgetting?! Forgetting what is behind...
What is behind?
Usually I think of the sin of my heart before I knew Christ. Or if I mess up, after I seek forgiveness I have to let go of the shame and press on. And that's true. But let's keep it in context here- Paul had just mentioned all the things he had to be proud of, all the things that made him who he was, all the things his identity was wrapped up in
Circumcised according to the law
Of the right people
Of a good tribe
A Hebrew more religious than other Hebrews
As to following the law closely: a Pharisee
As for showing my dedication to the law: I persecuted the church who I thought was against God
As for righteousness: faultless
Then he says, I count all these things as dung that I may win Christ. Strong words.
All the things that have given him his identity. This is my struggle. I don't want to lose the identity I had made for myself.
I press on...
I was challenged by these thoughts of what Paul was 'forgetting' and when I was asked to teach in my old Sunday school class the last sunday I was in Toronto I thought I wld share these thots with them. As I was preparing my lesson another verse came to mind.
Remember not the former things
Nor consider the things of old
Sounds good so far... I'm well acquainted w those two lines for some reason
Pay attention! I am doing a new thing
Oh! And it was like pieces of a puzzle just clicked together... A new thing...
A new thing means that 4 Agincourt drive, or Agincourt Gospel Hall or 14es will never b a possibility again. But a new thing is happening. And it's a good thing. It's a God thing. It's the three fold cord standing alone with God, it's new paths and new lessons and new opportunities to grow. It's opportunities to put into practice lessons learned, to try new things, to learn about myself and My Lord in a different context.
It's not forgetting the important things- the friends who have transformed me, the vitally important lessons and experiences with my Father, the ways I have grown to become more myself. But it's about letting go of what I thought was important, the things I thought gave me identity and allowing God to fill that place with the things He has said are important, allowing Christ to fill the place with Himself.
So, snuggled down in this delightfully comfortable bed excited to enter the blissful world of sleep, I just wanted to give you a wee update. Or maybe I just wanted to confirm to my old self that yes it's been a year of struggles and yes more lie ahead, but yes your Father, your Master, your dearest Friend has Himself come to strengthen, restore, confirm and establish you. And if He's good on this promise in a little suffering, won't He be even better on the promise in real suffering.
So, like paul, I say: forgetting what is behind I press on
On to the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus
Remember not the former things
Nor consider the things of old
PAY ATTENTION- I am doing a new thing!
The last time I was here, I read in Peter, though you suffer a little while God himself shall come to strengthen restore establish and confirm you.
Though you suffer a little while... Have I suffered? No, not really, definitely not the way these Christians were, definitely not the way hundreds are suffering now in the Middle East. But I have struggled. This past year was not easy. This past year I let go of so many things. I didn't want to. I don't want to. Even now, part of me still wants to run back to my comfortable safe haven. The place where I know and am known. But my heart has decided- what is more important? Sorry... What is most important?
and the echoing cry of my heart comes back
That I may know Him
And be found in Him
Not having my own righteousness
But the righteousness that comes of God thru faith.
That I may know Him
That's it. For me, that's the final stop, the apex, the most important thing- knowing him.
Paul then writes, "forgetting what is behind, I press on."
Forgetting?! Forgetting what is behind...
What is behind?
Usually I think of the sin of my heart before I knew Christ. Or if I mess up, after I seek forgiveness I have to let go of the shame and press on. And that's true. But let's keep it in context here- Paul had just mentioned all the things he had to be proud of, all the things that made him who he was, all the things his identity was wrapped up in
Circumcised according to the law
Of the right people
Of a good tribe
A Hebrew more religious than other Hebrews
As to following the law closely: a Pharisee
As for showing my dedication to the law: I persecuted the church who I thought was against God
As for righteousness: faultless
Then he says, I count all these things as dung that I may win Christ. Strong words.
All the things that have given him his identity. This is my struggle. I don't want to lose the identity I had made for myself.
I press on...
I was challenged by these thoughts of what Paul was 'forgetting' and when I was asked to teach in my old Sunday school class the last sunday I was in Toronto I thought I wld share these thots with them. As I was preparing my lesson another verse came to mind.
Remember not the former things
Nor consider the things of old
Sounds good so far... I'm well acquainted w those two lines for some reason
Pay attention! I am doing a new thing
Oh! And it was like pieces of a puzzle just clicked together... A new thing...
A new thing means that 4 Agincourt drive, or Agincourt Gospel Hall or 14es will never b a possibility again. But a new thing is happening. And it's a good thing. It's a God thing. It's the three fold cord standing alone with God, it's new paths and new lessons and new opportunities to grow. It's opportunities to put into practice lessons learned, to try new things, to learn about myself and My Lord in a different context.
It's not forgetting the important things- the friends who have transformed me, the vitally important lessons and experiences with my Father, the ways I have grown to become more myself. But it's about letting go of what I thought was important, the things I thought gave me identity and allowing God to fill that place with the things He has said are important, allowing Christ to fill the place with Himself.
So, snuggled down in this delightfully comfortable bed excited to enter the blissful world of sleep, I just wanted to give you a wee update. Or maybe I just wanted to confirm to my old self that yes it's been a year of struggles and yes more lie ahead, but yes your Father, your Master, your dearest Friend has Himself come to strengthen, restore, confirm and establish you. And if He's good on this promise in a little suffering, won't He be even better on the promise in real suffering.
So, like paul, I say: forgetting what is behind I press on
On to the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus
Remember not the former things
Nor consider the things of old
PAY ATTENTION- I am doing a new thing!
Resignation
Part of me is screaming "go back go back go back" and I want to run crying back to that safe world I had made for myself. But there's another part of me that won't let go that keeps saying "go on! Go on until you know for certain that this isn't Gods will for you!"
And I'm sorry- maybe you think I shld have it all together, maybe it comes as a surprise to you that I don't, that I question " have I really made the right decision" the 'God decision'? Sometimes almost constantly. Sometimes it's hard to look up because of the doubts that keep pulling me down
Down into the darkness
Down away from my God
Down into this scary place that I thought I had overcome - where doubts threaten to overwhelm the peace that I thought I would never find, to overwhelm and flood until all I see is dark, and roaring water all around, and no light, not even His light
Signing the resignation papers
The look of disappointment from some of the most amazing colleagues turned friends when it was made clear I wasn't coming back
Dinner with the wound ostomy nurse who has been a friend in a way it can't describe, whose belief in me has transformed me
My friends who started the job the same time I did, who grew with me into the nurses and the ppl we are today
The questions about my life and comparisons of Zambia to Toronto
How can I do this??? How can I leave these aspects of my identity behind? How can I leave these people behind? I pray for them- please know- I pray for you that, if you don't already know, you would know God's love, and his mercy, His forgiveness. To know Him is to know life eternal. That your life would be His in the way no one can understand who doesn't know Him. And selfishly- to know Him means one day there will be no separation between us
I must go on tho, until I'm certain I have made the right decision or the wrong one. Until I am certain I am where God is. Where God is is different for each one of us and changes with time. One foot ahead of the other. Step by step. Because really, the thing I am most afraid of is the thing I long for most: being safe. I want to live in a world of my own making that is secure and safe and comfortable- it's great! I lived there for about three years- supportive friends, amazing colleagues, comfortable cushion of money in the bank, ppl that believed in me and my vision, my spiritual ministries with Sunday school and teen night. It was amazing and I can't think that I will ever come to such a place again. God was there in that life, for sure! I learned so much there, so much about dwelling in Him, so much about depending on Him, so much about myself and so much about the ppl I now call friends.
But I want, I need to be challenged in those very ways that I want to b safe in. Aside of honouring my God, my best friend, the things I want most in life are to b surrounded by the ppl who love me who I love and to have enough of the world's goods to keep me and my family comfortable. It would be so easy and safe to stay in my job as registered nurse on 14 eaton south at Toronto general hospital, glide into the roll as wound ostomy nurse either there or at another Toronto hospital and live the Christian life; make a difference to the ppl around me, to continue learning about God and his great amazing love to me, to us. But there is so much more! Life isn't about staying in the shallow end. It's about learning to hold His hand when the water is up over my head
It's better to b a doorkeeper in the house of the Lord for one day, than to live in the tents of wickedness for a thousand years- and that is so true! But sometimes I think we r too content to be door keepers when our Lord is saying to us "come further up and further in" we have a big God- are we willing to live big for him? Am I willing? It means stepping out into the dark, it means letting go of the masquerade of 'having it all together' it means being willing to live with doubts and fears but being willing to let God turn them into peace and prayers. But most of all, it means setting out again and again on this wild adventure to know God and be found in Him.
And I'm sorry- maybe you think I shld have it all together, maybe it comes as a surprise to you that I don't, that I question " have I really made the right decision" the 'God decision'? Sometimes almost constantly. Sometimes it's hard to look up because of the doubts that keep pulling me down
Down into the darkness
Down away from my God
Down into this scary place that I thought I had overcome - where doubts threaten to overwhelm the peace that I thought I would never find, to overwhelm and flood until all I see is dark, and roaring water all around, and no light, not even His light
Signing the resignation papers
The look of disappointment from some of the most amazing colleagues turned friends when it was made clear I wasn't coming back
Dinner with the wound ostomy nurse who has been a friend in a way it can't describe, whose belief in me has transformed me
My friends who started the job the same time I did, who grew with me into the nurses and the ppl we are today
The questions about my life and comparisons of Zambia to Toronto
How can I do this??? How can I leave these aspects of my identity behind? How can I leave these people behind? I pray for them- please know- I pray for you that, if you don't already know, you would know God's love, and his mercy, His forgiveness. To know Him is to know life eternal. That your life would be His in the way no one can understand who doesn't know Him. And selfishly- to know Him means one day there will be no separation between us
I must go on tho, until I'm certain I have made the right decision or the wrong one. Until I am certain I am where God is. Where God is is different for each one of us and changes with time. One foot ahead of the other. Step by step. Because really, the thing I am most afraid of is the thing I long for most: being safe. I want to live in a world of my own making that is secure and safe and comfortable- it's great! I lived there for about three years- supportive friends, amazing colleagues, comfortable cushion of money in the bank, ppl that believed in me and my vision, my spiritual ministries with Sunday school and teen night. It was amazing and I can't think that I will ever come to such a place again. God was there in that life, for sure! I learned so much there, so much about dwelling in Him, so much about depending on Him, so much about myself and so much about the ppl I now call friends.
But I want, I need to be challenged in those very ways that I want to b safe in. Aside of honouring my God, my best friend, the things I want most in life are to b surrounded by the ppl who love me who I love and to have enough of the world's goods to keep me and my family comfortable. It would be so easy and safe to stay in my job as registered nurse on 14 eaton south at Toronto general hospital, glide into the roll as wound ostomy nurse either there or at another Toronto hospital and live the Christian life; make a difference to the ppl around me, to continue learning about God and his great amazing love to me, to us. But there is so much more! Life isn't about staying in the shallow end. It's about learning to hold His hand when the water is up over my head
It's better to b a doorkeeper in the house of the Lord for one day, than to live in the tents of wickedness for a thousand years- and that is so true! But sometimes I think we r too content to be door keepers when our Lord is saying to us "come further up and further in" we have a big God- are we willing to live big for him? Am I willing? It means stepping out into the dark, it means letting go of the masquerade of 'having it all together' it means being willing to live with doubts and fears but being willing to let God turn them into peace and prayers. But most of all, it means setting out again and again on this wild adventure to know God and be found in Him.
Monday 22 September 2014
Long overdue update :)
Wow! And hasn't it been a long time since I've written here. So sorry folks! It's been a busy few months! I'm sitting now in the Dublin airport waiting for my plane up to Heathrow so I have some time to update this here.
June saw JR and Emma leave us for a tropical medicine conference in England, leaving Alison and I alone in hospital. Which wouldn't have been too bad... Well aside from the idea of leaving me in charge.... Except that somehow I missed the memo about two visiting surgeons coming... YIKES! Hello twelve hour days and weekend emergencies and good bye sleep. But you know, thru that all- God is good. We saw cases come in that if our visiting general surgeon and our visit gastrointestinal surgeon hadn't been there we either would have spent hours trying to figure out what was wrong or else would have lost the patient. Talk about timing!
Our paediatric consultant from England also came to visit us for 8 weeks- a bit like Mary Poppins she blew in to save the day for one of wee kiddos -
This little boy came to us from Dipalata mission as failure to improve on the feeding program. He was with us for about 2 weeks before any of us really realized how sick he was. Of course it didn't help that our usual feeding program lady was off sick and mom kept our little friend tied tight on her back so he didn't have a good assessment done on a regular basis. Tanis thankfully had joined us again in ward rounds and she took baby for an assessment and decided we were bringing him home for some intensive one on one care. He refused to eat anything except a bit of hot rod (yes, compliments of me, but at least he was eating right??) so ended up with a nasogastric tube insertion- thanks Alison :) and milk feeds every two hours. I had him that night- wow! Intense! Credit to moms who do this without thanks and without anyone thinking "so cool that you get to bring a kid home from the hospital and wake up every two hours to fix a bottle and feed him and change his diarrhea filled diaper. Oh and oops, he just had another one all over the sheet :( "
But from that day we all were a little more aware of him, the nurses, the missionary staff, even the blue ladies who help with patient care took him on, carrying him on their back during their shift to ensure he was brought to the busy ward nurse every two hours to get his feed. Our paediatric consultant from England - Dr. Ros, flew in just a few days before I left and took over the paeds ward and our little friend's care. And what a difference! This is our wee boy just before I left and then just before his discharge.
We also managed to do some pretty cool surgeries thanks to Dr. Paul from the States and Dr. Andre from Canada. We have a patient who developed esophageal varices (bleeding from the esophagus). This very often can lead to death as a patient will start to bleed into their stomach, then start to vomit blood and then exsanginate- pass enough blood so there isn't enough left in the body for normal functions. Dr. Paul did a very delicate surgery where he placed a shunt between the hepatic artery and the inferior vena cava to shunt blood from the liver to the IVC in order to decrease the pressure build up in the liver which causes the varices. Praise God! The surgery was successful and our patient was given a new lease on life.
I left Chitokoloki the 22nd of July for the Congo where I visited Genna for a week and took in another African country. Very different from Zambia: in Zambia the people are open and friendly and welcoming; in Congo they were reserved and cautious. Genna took me to the hospital where she works and I had a bit of a tour and saw some of the women's health projects Genna was working on.
I arrived home on the 31st of July. I was 2 wks with my family at home; two weeks with my friend Carolyn as we prepared for her wedding. Celebrated the big day on the 29th- still finding it hard to believe she is married! While visiting Toronto, I also stopped by the hospital to resign from my job. A tough decision. Very happy to have the chance to catch up with friends tho :) Then two weeks with the family again as I prepared to travel again, first to Dublin to visit family there and now finally back to Zambia.
Stopped in Northern Ireland to visit Alison just home from Zambia. Very exciting to hear the news and catch up. Will miss her greatly as she works at home, but looking forward to her next visit :)
Now to wait... Still an hour or so before I can board the plane. Sigh... But glad for the opportunity to finally be able to update this :)
Can't wait to get back
Have some pics but they'll have to wait til I get back :)
June saw JR and Emma leave us for a tropical medicine conference in England, leaving Alison and I alone in hospital. Which wouldn't have been too bad... Well aside from the idea of leaving me in charge.... Except that somehow I missed the memo about two visiting surgeons coming... YIKES! Hello twelve hour days and weekend emergencies and good bye sleep. But you know, thru that all- God is good. We saw cases come in that if our visiting general surgeon and our visit gastrointestinal surgeon hadn't been there we either would have spent hours trying to figure out what was wrong or else would have lost the patient. Talk about timing!
Our paediatric consultant from England also came to visit us for 8 weeks- a bit like Mary Poppins she blew in to save the day for one of wee kiddos -
This little boy came to us from Dipalata mission as failure to improve on the feeding program. He was with us for about 2 weeks before any of us really realized how sick he was. Of course it didn't help that our usual feeding program lady was off sick and mom kept our little friend tied tight on her back so he didn't have a good assessment done on a regular basis. Tanis thankfully had joined us again in ward rounds and she took baby for an assessment and decided we were bringing him home for some intensive one on one care. He refused to eat anything except a bit of hot rod (yes, compliments of me, but at least he was eating right??) so ended up with a nasogastric tube insertion- thanks Alison :) and milk feeds every two hours. I had him that night- wow! Intense! Credit to moms who do this without thanks and without anyone thinking "so cool that you get to bring a kid home from the hospital and wake up every two hours to fix a bottle and feed him and change his diarrhea filled diaper. Oh and oops, he just had another one all over the sheet :( "
But from that day we all were a little more aware of him, the nurses, the missionary staff, even the blue ladies who help with patient care took him on, carrying him on their back during their shift to ensure he was brought to the busy ward nurse every two hours to get his feed. Our paediatric consultant from England - Dr. Ros, flew in just a few days before I left and took over the paeds ward and our little friend's care. And what a difference! This is our wee boy just before I left and then just before his discharge.
We also managed to do some pretty cool surgeries thanks to Dr. Paul from the States and Dr. Andre from Canada. We have a patient who developed esophageal varices (bleeding from the esophagus). This very often can lead to death as a patient will start to bleed into their stomach, then start to vomit blood and then exsanginate- pass enough blood so there isn't enough left in the body for normal functions. Dr. Paul did a very delicate surgery where he placed a shunt between the hepatic artery and the inferior vena cava to shunt blood from the liver to the IVC in order to decrease the pressure build up in the liver which causes the varices. Praise God! The surgery was successful and our patient was given a new lease on life.
I left Chitokoloki the 22nd of July for the Congo where I visited Genna for a week and took in another African country. Very different from Zambia: in Zambia the people are open and friendly and welcoming; in Congo they were reserved and cautious. Genna took me to the hospital where she works and I had a bit of a tour and saw some of the women's health projects Genna was working on.
I arrived home on the 31st of July. I was 2 wks with my family at home; two weeks with my friend Carolyn as we prepared for her wedding. Celebrated the big day on the 29th- still finding it hard to believe she is married! While visiting Toronto, I also stopped by the hospital to resign from my job. A tough decision. Very happy to have the chance to catch up with friends tho :) Then two weeks with the family again as I prepared to travel again, first to Dublin to visit family there and now finally back to Zambia.
Stopped in Northern Ireland to visit Alison just home from Zambia. Very exciting to hear the news and catch up. Will miss her greatly as she works at home, but looking forward to her next visit :)
Now to wait... Still an hour or so before I can board the plane. Sigh... But glad for the opportunity to finally be able to update this :)
Can't wait to get back
Have some pics but they'll have to wait til I get back :)
Tuesday 24 June 2014
She knocks on my door to bring me a letter and we get down to chatting- as we usually do. "I was just thinking about it" she says in the course of the chat, "why don't we each take a morning this week- Wednesday or Friday and have a bit of a lie in, have a chance to do our reading and eat breakfast leisurely and come up in time for tea break. You see its gonna be busy over the next few weeks." And suddenly the room brightens, my head still feels like jello and the thought of getting any sort of food from the kitchen only 15 feet away still exhausts me, but that's ok now, it doesn't seem to matter as much. Not that I wouldn't have risen tomorrow and (after the initial grumblings of 'why does morning come so early?') thanked my Father for yet another day to live and enjoy life and to serve Him and love the people around me.
Our God delights to bless us- He daily loads us with blessings as some translations record this verse. Others say: "He daily bears our burdens." Either way, what beautiful, sustaining, steeling promises these are. Not only does He LOVE (thoroughly enjoy, to be passionate about) to LOAD (so heavy that we cannot measure the weight of it or carry it ourselves unless we unload it unto those around use) us with blessing (gifts); not only all that, BUT He also carries on Himself the burdens (the struggles, the sorrows, the temptations, the trials, the low points) that we face daily (each and every single day). Can I say- we who know Him as Saviour and Master and Father, we are truly the most blessed- oh to live with this knowledge as daily and as certainly as He carries our burdens!
The world changed last Thursday night- but maybe you didn't realize it. Maybe you could write under the heading 'the day the world changed' your own story and it would be a poignant story. My world changed Thursday night and so did the world of hundreds of people. It started off with a bang! Supper (tea) at the house of the doctor. Not just supper- barbeque! Even hot dogs! It was like a far off memory brought to reality the first bite of that wonderful hot dog dripping with ketchup and mustard and covered with onions. Wow! And so great to spend time with the medical team and some of the other missionaries here in a social setting and not in a hospital or out reach environment.
Actually the story starts that morning with the patient who arrived in the middle of ward rounds who didn't get as thorough an assessment as she should have had, who fell through the cracks.
I left our new doctor off at the hospital after the bbq at the doctor's house to see two sick babies, one new born with twitches and one with malnutrition and a bad chest, before dropping fellow nurse, Alison, off at her house and then going home and collapsing into my bed. Thursday are theatre days- great fun, but long. And we had gone late that night. I was so glad to see my bed and end my day. But for a call 1 hour later. "Christina, can you get Kayombo. We need to operate." I stumble out of my bed blearly wiping the sleep from my eyes- 2230- its not that late really right. A simple task, wrapping my chitengi around my waist over my pajama bottoms has become a struggle and a source of amused irritation. I manage then stumble out the door in the pitch dark and the icy cold (and it is COLD here at night now- this is the season of chishika cheneni- the big cold) and somehow crawl unto the bike to go out to a village about 5 minutes on the bike to pick Kayombo our scrub nurse at a random path that I still have troubles being sure of during the day- did I mention how dark it was that night???
Found him ok. Sorted a few other things out and were in theatre from 2330 until 0130. Through God's grace and kindness, we saved the life of a young girl who miscarried, and the lives of a second and third- a mom who had placenta previa and her unborn baby; a big healthy baby boy! During that time I floated between between Theatre and Maternity as one of our nurses helped another mom deliver two beautiful baby girls. It was a cold night and we couldn't get them to warm up quite quick enough. Our nurse, who has little maternity experience and did an amazing job with the delivery! and I worked closely together to try and get these little ones to turn from grey to pink- hot water bottles and heavy warm blankets and body heat go a long way! The next morning they joined their mom in the main ward rosy pink and squalling loudly- like any decent baby should!
After we finished in OT we spent time again with our twitching baby, giving a dose of diazepam to settle him down and a course of antibiotics. And also sorted a new admission in with varices, a low hemoglobin and the very real risk of a huge bleed before morning.
All this was accomplished between 2130 and 0200. Five babies and three women whose lives were touched and preserved and changed. But all this was accomplished to the eerie cry of wailing women mourning for the one patient whose life ended at 2300 that Thursday night.
The next afternoon I gather with the people around the coffin of that lady- questioning over and over "Why didn't I pay more attention to her? Why didn't I realize how sick she was? Why didn't I fight harder for her when I saw her that morning? Why did it have to end like this?" And I don't know! The very real tears of the women I work with, of the men from some of the surrounding churches wrenches at my heart. Why did it end this way?! I am standing next to my friend and she comments "her mother is a very sweet Christian lady. I don't know about her, but I've heard she was also." It doesn't change things, but it does. She is still gone. Her mother is still left with neither of her two daughters and now three grandchildren to raise. I still wrestle with the questions "what could I have done? and what should I have done differently?" But the difference lies in where she is now. Not that she was a sweet Christian lady, not that she was like her mother, but that she knew Christ as her Saviour- that is, she knew herself to be guilty before a God who cannot tolerate anything less than sinless perfection and she had claimed the death of His Son and full payment, had claimed His Son as the only one who could make her reach that standard of sinless perfection. Yes, she has left us here. Left a hole in the community of people who surrounded her, but where she is now she rests with her Saviour away from the sick body she lived in. It doesn't change what happened and yet strangely, it does...
All these lives touched and changed. I wonder about these fives babies and three women- will they come to know Christ as Saviour? The One "who to know is life eternal". Will they be good and honest people? Or have we fought for their life only for them to turn out to be rascals and trouble makers? - not that it changes the fight in any way at all! Whose lives will they touch in the future and who will they be touched by? Will they become someone inspiring? Someone for people to look to as leaders in their community, in their country, in the world? I wonder about it.... the lives touched by the lady who died, touched not just in her life, but in her death also...
It seems all so random, maybe even senseless... why would God take that woman's life? Why would He spare the lives of the two referrals who were bleeding (the miscarriage and the section)? Why the five children? But He knows the plans for each one of us, they are for good and not for evil- He delights to bless us, to pour out blessings on not only His children, but everyone- they are plans to give us a future and a hope- even if it doesn't look quite how we expect it too.
I had a wee house guest last night. And that's likely a large part of the reason I am so tired today. A two year old boy weighing 7.4 kg (about 15lbs) an average 1 year old weighs in at about 10kg...
He was referred to us, as a tertiary care centre, for failure to thrive on a feeding program. Its our job to make it happen. But it hasn't been happening. Mom is giving up, she is losing interest in fighting for her baby whose body is swollen taut with severe malnutrition; there will be other babies afterall...
We took him home yesterday for some intensive one on one care (hard for our nurses who manage two busy wards each). Despite persistent attempts to feed him, he refused, shaking his tiny swollen head and pursing his lips shut, spitting out any food that was pushed between his lips in the hopes that the taste might encourage him to chew and swallow. We passed a tube through his nose into his stomach that night and fed him every two hours through the tube. There is nothing quite as sweet as falling asleep to the even sound of a wee sleeping child's breathing next to you. Little Wana, looked much better this morning when I returned him to hospital; but he has a long way to go- malnourished and suffering from some neglect and now with malaria, we have to fight for him and for mom. Fight to show her that he is still a life worth saving- he matters because he is her child and because he was created by God, he was knit together in his mother's womb, because he is fearfully and wonderfully made.
He stayed in the house of Sister Sombo, Tanis, today and she and a visitor smothered him with love and attention. So exciting to hear he ate some bits of pasta and chicken at lunch, especially after hearing he vomited everything we gave him this morning. I have just now heard her bike drive by, taking our wee boy up to hospital for the staff there to help with feeds- we're hoping he can get 30 mls of milk every hour along with some more solid food in between.
Pray for Wana and pray for his mom, pray for the miracle of healing and life that God can work here, and pray for us as we love these people and as we learn to accept God's will even when it doesn't look the way we think it should.
Our God, He daily loads us with blessings and daily He bears our burdens, He will not allow us to be tried beyond what we are able to bear, our cares matter to Him, He bears us up, bears us on eagles' wings and gives us eagles' wings to fly. He gives to His beloved rest, sweet rest, peaceful rest- You alone oh Lord are with us!
He delights to bless us His children, and sometimes, those blessings can be as simple as the chance to sleep in an extra hour.
Our God delights to bless us- He daily loads us with blessings as some translations record this verse. Others say: "He daily bears our burdens." Either way, what beautiful, sustaining, steeling promises these are. Not only does He LOVE (thoroughly enjoy, to be passionate about) to LOAD (so heavy that we cannot measure the weight of it or carry it ourselves unless we unload it unto those around use) us with blessing (gifts); not only all that, BUT He also carries on Himself the burdens (the struggles, the sorrows, the temptations, the trials, the low points) that we face daily (each and every single day). Can I say- we who know Him as Saviour and Master and Father, we are truly the most blessed- oh to live with this knowledge as daily and as certainly as He carries our burdens!
The world changed last Thursday night- but maybe you didn't realize it. Maybe you could write under the heading 'the day the world changed' your own story and it would be a poignant story. My world changed Thursday night and so did the world of hundreds of people. It started off with a bang! Supper (tea) at the house of the doctor. Not just supper- barbeque! Even hot dogs! It was like a far off memory brought to reality the first bite of that wonderful hot dog dripping with ketchup and mustard and covered with onions. Wow! And so great to spend time with the medical team and some of the other missionaries here in a social setting and not in a hospital or out reach environment.
Actually the story starts that morning with the patient who arrived in the middle of ward rounds who didn't get as thorough an assessment as she should have had, who fell through the cracks.
I left our new doctor off at the hospital after the bbq at the doctor's house to see two sick babies, one new born with twitches and one with malnutrition and a bad chest, before dropping fellow nurse, Alison, off at her house and then going home and collapsing into my bed. Thursday are theatre days- great fun, but long. And we had gone late that night. I was so glad to see my bed and end my day. But for a call 1 hour later. "Christina, can you get Kayombo. We need to operate." I stumble out of my bed blearly wiping the sleep from my eyes- 2230- its not that late really right. A simple task, wrapping my chitengi around my waist over my pajama bottoms has become a struggle and a source of amused irritation. I manage then stumble out the door in the pitch dark and the icy cold (and it is COLD here at night now- this is the season of chishika cheneni- the big cold) and somehow crawl unto the bike to go out to a village about 5 minutes on the bike to pick Kayombo our scrub nurse at a random path that I still have troubles being sure of during the day- did I mention how dark it was that night???
Found him ok. Sorted a few other things out and were in theatre from 2330 until 0130. Through God's grace and kindness, we saved the life of a young girl who miscarried, and the lives of a second and third- a mom who had placenta previa and her unborn baby; a big healthy baby boy! During that time I floated between between Theatre and Maternity as one of our nurses helped another mom deliver two beautiful baby girls. It was a cold night and we couldn't get them to warm up quite quick enough. Our nurse, who has little maternity experience and did an amazing job with the delivery! and I worked closely together to try and get these little ones to turn from grey to pink- hot water bottles and heavy warm blankets and body heat go a long way! The next morning they joined their mom in the main ward rosy pink and squalling loudly- like any decent baby should!
After we finished in OT we spent time again with our twitching baby, giving a dose of diazepam to settle him down and a course of antibiotics. And also sorted a new admission in with varices, a low hemoglobin and the very real risk of a huge bleed before morning.
All this was accomplished between 2130 and 0200. Five babies and three women whose lives were touched and preserved and changed. But all this was accomplished to the eerie cry of wailing women mourning for the one patient whose life ended at 2300 that Thursday night.
The next afternoon I gather with the people around the coffin of that lady- questioning over and over "Why didn't I pay more attention to her? Why didn't I realize how sick she was? Why didn't I fight harder for her when I saw her that morning? Why did it have to end like this?" And I don't know! The very real tears of the women I work with, of the men from some of the surrounding churches wrenches at my heart. Why did it end this way?! I am standing next to my friend and she comments "her mother is a very sweet Christian lady. I don't know about her, but I've heard she was also." It doesn't change things, but it does. She is still gone. Her mother is still left with neither of her two daughters and now three grandchildren to raise. I still wrestle with the questions "what could I have done? and what should I have done differently?" But the difference lies in where she is now. Not that she was a sweet Christian lady, not that she was like her mother, but that she knew Christ as her Saviour- that is, she knew herself to be guilty before a God who cannot tolerate anything less than sinless perfection and she had claimed the death of His Son and full payment, had claimed His Son as the only one who could make her reach that standard of sinless perfection. Yes, she has left us here. Left a hole in the community of people who surrounded her, but where she is now she rests with her Saviour away from the sick body she lived in. It doesn't change what happened and yet strangely, it does...
All these lives touched and changed. I wonder about these fives babies and three women- will they come to know Christ as Saviour? The One "who to know is life eternal". Will they be good and honest people? Or have we fought for their life only for them to turn out to be rascals and trouble makers? - not that it changes the fight in any way at all! Whose lives will they touch in the future and who will they be touched by? Will they become someone inspiring? Someone for people to look to as leaders in their community, in their country, in the world? I wonder about it.... the lives touched by the lady who died, touched not just in her life, but in her death also...
It seems all so random, maybe even senseless... why would God take that woman's life? Why would He spare the lives of the two referrals who were bleeding (the miscarriage and the section)? Why the five children? But He knows the plans for each one of us, they are for good and not for evil- He delights to bless us, to pour out blessings on not only His children, but everyone- they are plans to give us a future and a hope- even if it doesn't look quite how we expect it too.
I had a wee house guest last night. And that's likely a large part of the reason I am so tired today. A two year old boy weighing 7.4 kg (about 15lbs) an average 1 year old weighs in at about 10kg...
He was referred to us, as a tertiary care centre, for failure to thrive on a feeding program. Its our job to make it happen. But it hasn't been happening. Mom is giving up, she is losing interest in fighting for her baby whose body is swollen taut with severe malnutrition; there will be other babies afterall...
We took him home yesterday for some intensive one on one care (hard for our nurses who manage two busy wards each). Despite persistent attempts to feed him, he refused, shaking his tiny swollen head and pursing his lips shut, spitting out any food that was pushed between his lips in the hopes that the taste might encourage him to chew and swallow. We passed a tube through his nose into his stomach that night and fed him every two hours through the tube. There is nothing quite as sweet as falling asleep to the even sound of a wee sleeping child's breathing next to you. Little Wana, looked much better this morning when I returned him to hospital; but he has a long way to go- malnourished and suffering from some neglect and now with malaria, we have to fight for him and for mom. Fight to show her that he is still a life worth saving- he matters because he is her child and because he was created by God, he was knit together in his mother's womb, because he is fearfully and wonderfully made.
He stayed in the house of Sister Sombo, Tanis, today and she and a visitor smothered him with love and attention. So exciting to hear he ate some bits of pasta and chicken at lunch, especially after hearing he vomited everything we gave him this morning. I have just now heard her bike drive by, taking our wee boy up to hospital for the staff there to help with feeds- we're hoping he can get 30 mls of milk every hour along with some more solid food in between.
Pray for Wana and pray for his mom, pray for the miracle of healing and life that God can work here, and pray for us as we love these people and as we learn to accept God's will even when it doesn't look the way we think it should.
Our God, He daily loads us with blessings and daily He bears our burdens, He will not allow us to be tried beyond what we are able to bear, our cares matter to Him, He bears us up, bears us on eagles' wings and gives us eagles' wings to fly. He gives to His beloved rest, sweet rest, peaceful rest- You alone oh Lord are with us!
He delights to bless us His children, and sometimes, those blessings can be as simple as the chance to sleep in an extra hour.
Friday 4 April 2014
Before They Call
Before they call I will answer
I suppose I could look this verse up, I should, its been a mainstay of my walk with my Saviour for so many, many years, but I just never have. Its truth is the same though, regardless if I could point you its the specific place in scripture.
Before they call I will answer
"12 hours and I'm a free woman" that was laughingly said today about 1600 hrs as JR and I were finishing up plastering her clubfeet and Emma was finishing cataloging her biopsies and Dr. Jere was... well I'm not sure what she was doing but we were sharing some laughs, plasters always seem to come with some laughs :)
That statement was made in reference to my upcoming trip to Lusaka tomorrow morning. Tanis and Dorothy and I were to leave around 430 am to travel 10 hrs from Chit down to Lusaka each of us to sort paperwork and other important business. Not 10 minutes later I received a text from Dorothy saying the trip was postponed till Sunday. "I am so depressed" Was my next comment.
And it was so disappointing. I had made plans too, to catch up with a friend and eat pizza and ice cream (not sure what I'm more disappointed to miss... better say catching up with my friend lol). But on my way home, travelling down that path overlooking the Zambezi that I love so much, I was encouraging myself with a verse I enjoyed from the morning: when the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul. You see, I was a little worried too that there were some papers I forgot I needed certified to register with the nursing council. A thought occurred to me then- There were a couple documents that still needed certifying and going with Tanis to Zambezi Township when she meets the magistrate and the court clerk will be the perfect last minute opportunity to get those documents signed.
Sometimes I can only stand in complete and utter awe at how interested my Father is in my life and how perfectly orchestrated everything is, regardless of my procrastination and just general stupidity and laziness. And maybe this has very little to do with me at all, but it just makes everything work out to perfectly and I can't help but boast about how amazing my Father is and how much he cares even over the tiniest details of my rather unimportant, insignificant life. IT IS GOOD TO GIVE THANKS TO THE LORD, TO SING PRAISES TO THE MOST HIGH! I WILL DECLARE YOUR STEADFAST LOVE IN THE MORNING AND YOUR FAITHFULNESS IN THE EVENING.
In the morning I will remind myself of His steadfast love that never changes, that is my security. And in the evening, I will proclaim His faithfulness, the ongoing proof that He could and does love even me. Privileged!
Dear friends, can I invite you to join me in prayer
I am hoping to travel tomorrow to Zambezi District with Tanis. Tanis needs to obtain some final papers for the adoption of her two girls and I need to get these last few documents certified. Sunday we are planning to travel down to Lusaka, Tanis to sort the rest of her adoption. But I am hoping to register with the general nursing council in order to write my exam the end of May. I am also hoping to pick anti rabies vaccine for the hospital. I plan to travel back with Shawn n Rhonda on Friday. Please pray that all goes smoothly, both the travel on muddy, forest roads, the red tape that is related to the business we are each hoping to wrap up, and whatever else we may come across while down there.
I will be back in Chit for about 5 days and then travel out again to Katombi to again focus on language studies for 3 weeks. Margie and I will return to Chit around May 10 in time for the Centennial Anniversary of Chitokoloki (please pray for this, there will be many visitors from Zambia and from around the world: may this be a time that God's faithfulness can be shown to those around). At the end of May, Emma, Allison and I hope to write our nursing exams in Lusaka. Please pray for this also, that God's will may be accomplished (and ideally that we all pass :) )
But with all this before me, can you see why it is so encouraging to me to know that my Father in heaven is not just concerned about the big things in upholding this world, but is concerned about even the smallest details in my life: like once again procrastinating. Friends, we are so privileged and so blessed, we deserve none of this; I deserve none of this, I have shunned God and hated His law, but over and over and over He is proving to me that in spite of myself He has redeemed me and made me His own. He is writing His love into the finest points of my life.
This is my anthem and this is my song,
The theme of the stories I've heard for so long
God has been faithful, He will be again
His love and compassion, they know no end
And all I have needed His hand will provide
He's always been faithful to me
I suppose I could look this verse up, I should, its been a mainstay of my walk with my Saviour for so many, many years, but I just never have. Its truth is the same though, regardless if I could point you its the specific place in scripture.
Before they call I will answer
"12 hours and I'm a free woman" that was laughingly said today about 1600 hrs as JR and I were finishing up plastering her clubfeet and Emma was finishing cataloging her biopsies and Dr. Jere was... well I'm not sure what she was doing but we were sharing some laughs, plasters always seem to come with some laughs :)
That statement was made in reference to my upcoming trip to Lusaka tomorrow morning. Tanis and Dorothy and I were to leave around 430 am to travel 10 hrs from Chit down to Lusaka each of us to sort paperwork and other important business. Not 10 minutes later I received a text from Dorothy saying the trip was postponed till Sunday. "I am so depressed" Was my next comment.
And it was so disappointing. I had made plans too, to catch up with a friend and eat pizza and ice cream (not sure what I'm more disappointed to miss... better say catching up with my friend lol). But on my way home, travelling down that path overlooking the Zambezi that I love so much, I was encouraging myself with a verse I enjoyed from the morning: when the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul. You see, I was a little worried too that there were some papers I forgot I needed certified to register with the nursing council. A thought occurred to me then- There were a couple documents that still needed certifying and going with Tanis to Zambezi Township when she meets the magistrate and the court clerk will be the perfect last minute opportunity to get those documents signed.
Sometimes I can only stand in complete and utter awe at how interested my Father is in my life and how perfectly orchestrated everything is, regardless of my procrastination and just general stupidity and laziness. And maybe this has very little to do with me at all, but it just makes everything work out to perfectly and I can't help but boast about how amazing my Father is and how much he cares even over the tiniest details of my rather unimportant, insignificant life. IT IS GOOD TO GIVE THANKS TO THE LORD, TO SING PRAISES TO THE MOST HIGH! I WILL DECLARE YOUR STEADFAST LOVE IN THE MORNING AND YOUR FAITHFULNESS IN THE EVENING.
In the morning I will remind myself of His steadfast love that never changes, that is my security. And in the evening, I will proclaim His faithfulness, the ongoing proof that He could and does love even me. Privileged!
Dear friends, can I invite you to join me in prayer
I am hoping to travel tomorrow to Zambezi District with Tanis. Tanis needs to obtain some final papers for the adoption of her two girls and I need to get these last few documents certified. Sunday we are planning to travel down to Lusaka, Tanis to sort the rest of her adoption. But I am hoping to register with the general nursing council in order to write my exam the end of May. I am also hoping to pick anti rabies vaccine for the hospital. I plan to travel back with Shawn n Rhonda on Friday. Please pray that all goes smoothly, both the travel on muddy, forest roads, the red tape that is related to the business we are each hoping to wrap up, and whatever else we may come across while down there.
I will be back in Chit for about 5 days and then travel out again to Katombi to again focus on language studies for 3 weeks. Margie and I will return to Chit around May 10 in time for the Centennial Anniversary of Chitokoloki (please pray for this, there will be many visitors from Zambia and from around the world: may this be a time that God's faithfulness can be shown to those around). At the end of May, Emma, Allison and I hope to write our nursing exams in Lusaka. Please pray for this also, that God's will may be accomplished (and ideally that we all pass :) )
But with all this before me, can you see why it is so encouraging to me to know that my Father in heaven is not just concerned about the big things in upholding this world, but is concerned about even the smallest details in my life: like once again procrastinating. Friends, we are so privileged and so blessed, we deserve none of this; I deserve none of this, I have shunned God and hated His law, but over and over and over He is proving to me that in spite of myself He has redeemed me and made me His own. He is writing His love into the finest points of my life.
This is my anthem and this is my song,
The theme of the stories I've heard for so long
God has been faithful, He will be again
His love and compassion, they know no end
And all I have needed His hand will provide
He's always been faithful to me
Monday 24 March 2014
Mayen'u
I sit here in a dimly lit room, the rain tapping lightly on the window panes, candles flickering, Gaither's playing softly in the background, my kittens nestled on my lap purring away and the moment is perfect.
I am home
But bright and precious memories flit through my mind, dimming with the realities of home and work and life. I try desperately to snatch at them but they dart away like tunzanza, butterflies.
Contact-I am dropped off in the village of Sarah and Patrick Chiwaya, I'm to stay with them for the week and visit some of the other ladies around the village of Mayen'u and learn about the language and the culture of the Lunda. I am so excited and so terrified. But the excitement wins out. I am here!
We go to the villages of the other ladies, Mama Betty and Gladys, Mama Pauline, Mama Hilda and Shalom and we greet them. I am introduced and told what day I will be going to visit with them. I still can't believe I'm here. Houses rise out of the dirt like small brick hills, The trees provide a canopy protecting the houses from the intense heat of the sun. Kabaka fields (maize) encircle the villages providing a ready source of food. The smells of nshima and dirt and the beautiful great out doors is all around me. Wow!
The sun shines beautifully the first morning. I spend time in the field behind the Muyombo's house kudima nyoli- cultivating sweet potatoes. Gladys takes me to another part of the field to kufuka nyimu,- dig ground nuts, the maize reaches high above us as she digs them up and I remove them from the plants. Later we work around the house- pounding cassava and corn in the iyanda (mortar). I try my hand at sifting cassava and maize flour first in a sift and then in a lwalu - a flat basket. It looks easy but it certainly is not. Getting caught in the chota during a massive storm while cooking wakaka - pumpkin leaves and trying to stay dry as the wind drives the rain almost horizontally. We find out later in the day, the wind and the rain knocked a wall down in the house of Sarah's sister in law.
Another day, Gladys and Mama Betty take me to chop nchawa for their fire (big logs that burn slowly). After a few tries (and misses) Gladys laughingly takes the axe away from me "I don't want to be here all day" she says.
She helps me then settle the smaller of the two logs on my head. Mama Betty carries a load of several big sticks that are used to feed the fire, while Gladys takes the bigger log (about 5 feet long and about 6 inches in diameter) on their heads. I manage two baby steps without the log slipping and decide I better keep a tight hold. Mama Betty's load is a bit unbalanced with so many sticks but she manages quite well fixing it only a handful of times during the 10 minute walk,. But Gladys follows up the rear walking easily, the log on her head and the axe on her shoulder, no hesitations at all from her end. They chat and laugh easily but it takes all my concentration not to drop this log!
Resting in the shade on kastools (bit of Zambish- a small stool), chatting and getting to know each other. Our lives have been so different.... The love of God that has brought us together- Blessed!
Bright blue skies, brilliant orange and yellow flowers, delicate pink fluff of fern like plants, warm red dirt under my feet. Light embracing, enveloping, penetrating, life giving. Greens of so many different shades. The yellow brown of the dying kabaka (corn), the soft green of the still living kabaka,the grass growing up, up, up taller than I. The acacia tree with its bright yellow flowers.
Mama Pauline. We met as equals, as friends. Our cultures are different not better. "I thank God for His love. It is His love that has brought us together." And I am blessed. We are blessed to learn from each other. We spend the day working around the house. She tells me about her last baby, her eighth child who died at 8 months, wadin'i nakutachika kwenda. My understanding of the language is still sketchy but I get her full meaning instantly and my heart breaks for her- her baby girl was just beginning to walk. I cannot begin to grasp the love of a parent for their child, nor can I understand the deep sorrow of sitting at the child's bedside watching him slowly slip away. Than she tells me about her son - The doctor named him she says. Emmanuel. They told me he had died and if the body was born by 930 they would force labour. At 21 baby Emmanuel was born healthy and beautiful. Namesake of God.
She tells me how glad she is for the girls' dorm that is almost complete. It means her girl can stay there instead of walking an hour to get to school. When she finds out later in the day that the cost of the dorm is outside her ability to pay, her face falls, and I hear her whisper "oh mwan'ami" (my child). How is it that I have been so blessed with so much, that I have been glutted on the goods of the world. School was free, transport was provided freely, textbooks and so many other things free or manageable... Open my heart and my hands as I have been given so let me freely give.
So blessed to sit on the chisalu (grass mat) with Mama Pauline and Gladys and chat and learn and laugh. Emmanuel is taking their goats from their pen at the back of the house to the grassy bit between their village and the road. The baby goat is crying 'maaa! maaa!" being left behind when mom and dad were taken. We share a laugh, Mama Pauline and I and she tells me "the baby is crying "Mama! Mama!" and the mama goat is replying "Twaya! Twaya!" (come, come). Her mban'ala (guinea fowl) in their pen of wooden stakes in the shade under the banana tree. Wrapped in this woman's love: love for God, love for life, and now love for me her new friend.
After nshima and between bouts of rain showers they show me how to make their local bread. It looks quite straight forward. Equal parts pounded roast cassava and pounded ground nuts, a bit of salt, a bit of water and pounded together until it sticks together. I'll let you know how it goes when I try to make it :) . It tastes kinda like peanut butter but a bit dryer. So fabulous!
The houses look like they have just grown up out of the ground, red brown brick most with thatched roofs. I didn't realize, but some of the tushinakaji (old folks) still live in grass thatched houses. But the houses are merely a place to sleep and maybe store things. The sitting rooms are out around the fire in the chinsambu or on the chisalu in the great, beautiful outdoors, out in the presence of God, out at His feet- "in the rustling grass I hear Him pass": in the blue of the sky, the glint of the sun through fluffy white clouds, the golden green grass and the flitting tunzanza (butterflies) they all seem to shout "He is here! He is all around you!" I am nothing but this so great God so loved me, so loved us, poured out Himself, poured out His love, poured out His blood, poured out His life just to show me how great and how wild and how unchanging His love is toward me. ... Blessed ....
We went the last evening, Mama Sarah and I and her three oldest grandkids: Groria (Gloria), Ireen, and Wana, in the ox cart to her fields in Katembo about 30 minutes and through that mucky river. Her youngest son Kapi drove the cart, while Tata Patrick followed on his bike. Wonderful to be so included, and a little bit scary to be so close to oxen with their large horns :S . I learned to look for cracks in the dirt under the leaves of the ntamba (sweet potatoes) that's how they know the ntamba is ready to be picked. We gather ntamba and machimpa (like a small squash), and pumpkin and nyimu (ground nuts like peanuts). I saw parrots, from a distance; beautiful birds but rather a nuisance to the fields. On the way back, Sarah and Patrick and Kapi all disappeared off at one point into the maize fields leaving me alone with the three small children (6 and 8) and the ox cart. Wana (6) was instructed to keep the oxen away from the maize. But he's so small and he only had a corn stalk to hit the oxen with; I tried to help by hitting at them but then I was scared to anger them and be gored so I kept jumping back away from them. I was so glad to see those other three show up not more than 5 minutes and two corn stalks later!
The kids for me were one of the best parts.Antanisha ami asatu- my three teachers. I learned so much from them and they were always so patient and helpful. As soon as I had a knew word they'd whisper knowingly to each other "mukanda" and I'd reach for my little note book and begin to sound out the word I had just learned their heads peering over the page repeating it to me over and over sound by sound until I had it recorded. They also loved trying to write (or draw) in my notebook, so my paper is littered with their darling scribbles. Fascinated with my hair Groria would run her fingers through it any time it was down pronouncing it jinawahi - it is nice, or taking my hair ties out just to tie it back again into a 'puf' (not quite the same pronunciation as puff). I forgot sunscreen one day and both girls had to rub their fingers over my skin chattering to themselves about ikowa dachinana (red skin).
There are few things in the world as perfect as cradling a sleeping child in your lap, knowing this child has trusted you and come to rest in your arms, and coming home from the fields that last night with a good friend beside me to chat with, God's beauty all around us and three darling children one of whom had curled up in my lap to sleep my week was complete. I have learned so much and been part of so much. I have been so blessed! My Father has brought me to this place, the greatest lesson I have learned: although I thought I was coming to share His love really His love is being shared with me.
I am home
But bright and precious memories flit through my mind, dimming with the realities of home and work and life. I try desperately to snatch at them but they dart away like tunzanza, butterflies.
Contact-I am dropped off in the village of Sarah and Patrick Chiwaya, I'm to stay with them for the week and visit some of the other ladies around the village of Mayen'u and learn about the language and the culture of the Lunda. I am so excited and so terrified. But the excitement wins out. I am here!
We go to the villages of the other ladies, Mama Betty and Gladys, Mama Pauline, Mama Hilda and Shalom and we greet them. I am introduced and told what day I will be going to visit with them. I still can't believe I'm here. Houses rise out of the dirt like small brick hills, The trees provide a canopy protecting the houses from the intense heat of the sun. Kabaka fields (maize) encircle the villages providing a ready source of food. The smells of nshima and dirt and the beautiful great out doors is all around me. Wow!
The sun shines beautifully the first morning. I spend time in the field behind the Muyombo's house kudima nyoli- cultivating sweet potatoes. Gladys takes me to another part of the field to kufuka nyimu,- dig ground nuts, the maize reaches high above us as she digs them up and I remove them from the plants. Later we work around the house- pounding cassava and corn in the iyanda (mortar). I try my hand at sifting cassava and maize flour first in a sift and then in a lwalu - a flat basket. It looks easy but it certainly is not. Getting caught in the chota during a massive storm while cooking wakaka - pumpkin leaves and trying to stay dry as the wind drives the rain almost horizontally. We find out later in the day, the wind and the rain knocked a wall down in the house of Sarah's sister in law.
Another day, Gladys and Mama Betty take me to chop nchawa for their fire (big logs that burn slowly). After a few tries (and misses) Gladys laughingly takes the axe away from me "I don't want to be here all day" she says.
She helps me then settle the smaller of the two logs on my head. Mama Betty carries a load of several big sticks that are used to feed the fire, while Gladys takes the bigger log (about 5 feet long and about 6 inches in diameter) on their heads. I manage two baby steps without the log slipping and decide I better keep a tight hold. Mama Betty's load is a bit unbalanced with so many sticks but she manages quite well fixing it only a handful of times during the 10 minute walk,. But Gladys follows up the rear walking easily, the log on her head and the axe on her shoulder, no hesitations at all from her end. They chat and laugh easily but it takes all my concentration not to drop this log!
Resting in the shade on kastools (bit of Zambish- a small stool), chatting and getting to know each other. Our lives have been so different.... The love of God that has brought us together- Blessed!
Bright blue skies, brilliant orange and yellow flowers, delicate pink fluff of fern like plants, warm red dirt under my feet. Light embracing, enveloping, penetrating, life giving. Greens of so many different shades. The yellow brown of the dying kabaka (corn), the soft green of the still living kabaka,the grass growing up, up, up taller than I. The acacia tree with its bright yellow flowers.
Blessed
Mama Pauline. We met as equals, as friends. Our cultures are different not better. "I thank God for His love. It is His love that has brought us together." And I am blessed. We are blessed to learn from each other. We spend the day working around the house. She tells me about her last baby, her eighth child who died at 8 months, wadin'i nakutachika kwenda. My understanding of the language is still sketchy but I get her full meaning instantly and my heart breaks for her- her baby girl was just beginning to walk. I cannot begin to grasp the love of a parent for their child, nor can I understand the deep sorrow of sitting at the child's bedside watching him slowly slip away. Than she tells me about her son - The doctor named him she says. Emmanuel. They told me he had died and if the body was born by 930 they would force labour. At 21 baby Emmanuel was born healthy and beautiful. Namesake of God.
She tells me how glad she is for the girls' dorm that is almost complete. It means her girl can stay there instead of walking an hour to get to school. When she finds out later in the day that the cost of the dorm is outside her ability to pay, her face falls, and I hear her whisper "oh mwan'ami" (my child). How is it that I have been so blessed with so much, that I have been glutted on the goods of the world. School was free, transport was provided freely, textbooks and so many other things free or manageable... Open my heart and my hands as I have been given so let me freely give.
So blessed to sit on the chisalu (grass mat) with Mama Pauline and Gladys and chat and learn and laugh. Emmanuel is taking their goats from their pen at the back of the house to the grassy bit between their village and the road. The baby goat is crying 'maaa! maaa!" being left behind when mom and dad were taken. We share a laugh, Mama Pauline and I and she tells me "the baby is crying "Mama! Mama!" and the mama goat is replying "Twaya! Twaya!" (come, come). Her mban'ala (guinea fowl) in their pen of wooden stakes in the shade under the banana tree. Wrapped in this woman's love: love for God, love for life, and now love for me her new friend.
Loved
The house is by far the most sparse I have been in yet. 3 rooms. One for Mama Hildah, one for her mother: Nkaka Phoebe, a tiny woman about as big as a small stick; and one in the middle that stores some food, buckets of water, flour, the yisalu (grass mats) and other items they might have. Most of the time they sit out in the chinsambu (outside kitchen) or on the grass mats outside under the shade of the big mango tree.
Mama Hildah and the daughter of her brother, Shalom tell me they have fields in Katembo but they won't take me out there because we will have to wade thru the river and they know we can't do that [because of bilharzia]. "Kukala kwos" (not a problem) but I don't convince them. They take me instead to their near fields about 20 minutes walk away. We gather cassava leaves for nshima, then go to the corn fields only to discover that ants have crawled into the husks. Just the nzeneni, the small black ones but still they crawl all over and my skin creeps with the thought of them climbing up on me.. I do my best tho to peal the husk back quickly and pull the cob free before they ants are very disturbed and creep up my arms, half laughing and half dying. I am relieved when Shalom complains to her tata amumbanda (father that's a woman: aunt) "Kutwesha wanyi (not able) I am feeling fear. O! Me too!
We gather the fresh produce to take back to the village for our lunch nshima. Mama Hildah takes the big bucket of corn, still crawling with ants. Shalom takes the pumpkin (more like a huge squash). They give me the bag of cassava leaves because they aren't heavy. I laugh, they must think we are so weak! But I'm not complaining. Since I'm here learning about the Lunda culture, I heft the bag and settle it with some struggle on my head. While I did have to steady it many times, I made it back all the way to the village without holding onto it or dropping it. Even past the nsalafu- the big red fire ants that crawl up your legs and then all bite together; how they can bite! I'm not sure what they think- probably that I'm ridiculous- but I am so impressed that I was able to successfully do this!
Back in the village, they laugh as I show them how I've learned to pound cassava but that I make a mess and don't have the strength to do it as quickly as they can. I am so thankful for their patience and the advice that they give- I may get this after all.
After nshima and between bouts of rain showers they show me how to make their local bread. It looks quite straight forward. Equal parts pounded roast cassava and pounded ground nuts, a bit of salt, a bit of water and pounded together until it sticks together. I'll let you know how it goes when I try to make it :) . It tastes kinda like peanut butter but a bit dryer. So fabulous!
The houses look like they have just grown up out of the ground, red brown brick most with thatched roofs. I didn't realize, but some of the tushinakaji (old folks) still live in grass thatched houses. But the houses are merely a place to sleep and maybe store things. The sitting rooms are out around the fire in the chinsambu or on the chisalu in the great, beautiful outdoors, out in the presence of God, out at His feet- "in the rustling grass I hear Him pass": in the blue of the sky, the glint of the sun through fluffy white clouds, the golden green grass and the flitting tunzanza (butterflies) they all seem to shout "He is here! He is all around you!" I am nothing but this so great God so loved me, so loved us, poured out Himself, poured out His love, poured out His blood, poured out His life just to show me how great and how wild and how unchanging His love is toward me. ... Blessed ....
We went the last evening, Mama Sarah and I and her three oldest grandkids: Groria (Gloria), Ireen, and Wana, in the ox cart to her fields in Katembo about 30 minutes and through that mucky river. Her youngest son Kapi drove the cart, while Tata Patrick followed on his bike. Wonderful to be so included, and a little bit scary to be so close to oxen with their large horns :S . I learned to look for cracks in the dirt under the leaves of the ntamba (sweet potatoes) that's how they know the ntamba is ready to be picked. We gather ntamba and machimpa (like a small squash), and pumpkin and nyimu (ground nuts like peanuts). I saw parrots, from a distance; beautiful birds but rather a nuisance to the fields. On the way back, Sarah and Patrick and Kapi all disappeared off at one point into the maize fields leaving me alone with the three small children (6 and 8) and the ox cart. Wana (6) was instructed to keep the oxen away from the maize. But he's so small and he only had a corn stalk to hit the oxen with; I tried to help by hitting at them but then I was scared to anger them and be gored so I kept jumping back away from them. I was so glad to see those other three show up not more than 5 minutes and two corn stalks later!
The kids for me were one of the best parts.Antanisha ami asatu- my three teachers. I learned so much from them and they were always so patient and helpful. As soon as I had a knew word they'd whisper knowingly to each other "mukanda" and I'd reach for my little note book and begin to sound out the word I had just learned their heads peering over the page repeating it to me over and over sound by sound until I had it recorded. They also loved trying to write (or draw) in my notebook, so my paper is littered with their darling scribbles. Fascinated with my hair Groria would run her fingers through it any time it was down pronouncing it jinawahi - it is nice, or taking my hair ties out just to tie it back again into a 'puf' (not quite the same pronunciation as puff). I forgot sunscreen one day and both girls had to rub their fingers over my skin chattering to themselves about ikowa dachinana (red skin).
There are few things in the world as perfect as cradling a sleeping child in your lap, knowing this child has trusted you and come to rest in your arms, and coming home from the fields that last night with a good friend beside me to chat with, God's beauty all around us and three darling children one of whom had curled up in my lap to sleep my week was complete. I have learned so much and been part of so much. I have been so blessed! My Father has brought me to this place, the greatest lesson I have learned: although I thought I was coming to share His love really His love is being shared with me.
Sunday 23 March 2014
A moment in time
I'd like to invite you to join me in Zambia!
I wish there were some way to capture my days and some how telepathically communicate not just the events but the meaning of them to you all. They are so many priceless moments. Some are beautiful and encouraging, some heartbreaking. Its these stories that are so hard to capture, the sentiment of the moment is destroyed by words, but bear with me as I try to describe to you the wonder of the little moments that make up my days...
Today was a surgery day, Thursdays always are. JR is a trained scrubbed nurse, she gets to hang out in the air conditioned theatre. Not that I mind, I like doing the ward rounds and watching patient progress and just generally being responsible for the day to day things. Today JR and I were the only ex pat nurses, no visiting nurses, no visiting doctors. That means lots of running back and forth between the wards and theatre- I have lots of questions! Around 1030, JR and Dr. McAdam started a complicated eye surgery that lasted for 5 hours. Around 1100 AM I started an induction of one of our high risk deliveries who was possibly expecting triplets (I have never done an induction before, I'm not even really a trained midwife). At 1300 hours, they were still in surgery and my lady had only progressed to 7-8 cms. Two of the theatre staff had left for lunch, one of them being the only trained nurse in theatre and therefore the only one able to start IV's and draw up medications, leaving that role dependent on myself. Shift change also happened at 13hrs and my expert maternity nurse was replaced by a 3 month new grad. I was maybe a little bit stressed; definitely doing a lot of running back and forth between theatre at one end of the hospital and maternity at the other end- just about every 1/2 hr or maybe slightly less. But in that theatre corridor there was a wee bright spot that not only made my day, but convicted and challenged and encouraged me also. Three of our patients sat in that corridor, all three in wheel chairs, all three had travelled far, far, far to come to Zambia to Chitokoloki Hospital because there's a good doctor here. These three men sat in a circle in this corridor that I must have stampeded up and down about 100 times today and each had a Bible open on his lap and were engaged in an intense and deep discussion regarding some portion of scripture. It was so totally cool! These are men who are struggling with health conditions, some long term, far away from their families, definitely with worries about food and survival and money, but to see them sit there and discuss the scripture was such a beautiful, wonderful thing. I have no idea what they were discussing, Angolans speak Portuguese, but it brought so much joy just watching them and knowing where two or three are gathered God is right there. In the business of my day, in the stress and the worry and the confusion, God is right here. Emmanuel, the God who has taken up residence with us.
We have this family in the kids' ward, I'm not really sure what to say about them, they are so dirty and unkempt; last time they were in it was a daily fight to get mom to wash her babies. They just look unhappy and miserable all the time and mom doesn't look much better. But one day I decided to pick up Kelvin. Mom had her hands full with baby Womba who's about a year and Kelvin was standing by the bed crying, crying, crying. I was maybe a little bit annoyed at such a whiny boy. But, he's pretty little himself, mom thinks maybe 2 years old. I guess maybe it's hard being so little and finding mom's lap full with another baby. So I picked him up, grime and all. And I fell in love! He's a sombre little boy, I think maybe a little shy. But as we've gotten to know each other, I've seen that he's a sensitive boy; he's very caring, he loves to share with his baby sister - maybe not always good things for her. He had a beautiful smile but he tries to hid it. He definitely has a mind of his own, and sometimes pretends to refuse being picked up, but if I keep coming back after the second or third time he usually greets me with open arms. And he gives the best hugs! He was made to cuddle. Mom came to us about a week and a half ago asking for a BTL, apparently she has 5 children and they are basically born one right after the other. She is here right now with Kazia who's about 4 and Kelvin and baby Womba. Her mom came with her, but gran refused to care for the younger two children. When we told her she needed a care giver, she started to cry, we could tell how much she wanted this, so JR and I worked it out between us and the blue ladies and mom was able to get her surgery done so she won't have more kids. But I had the privilege of taking these two sweet babies home and giving them a good scrub and feeding them and just getting to spend time with them and play with them! Any time mom sees me coming now she has a huge smile for me and even laughs as I spit out in my broken Lunda "mwan'etu" ~ "our child". Its been such a privilege to watch these three children start to fatten up and lose their miserable, waifish looks and begin to smile and laugh and play with the other children. I can't imagine going back now and not picking that little boy up. He's made my work experience and my life all the richer- love is the more excellent way!
This was another surgery day where it was just JR and I. Ward rounds were quick this day, I had finished all four wards and ICU by 10AM. The first case that had been planned for the day was a small girl, about 9 years old, from Angola. She was stick thin except for a HUGE abdomen. Dr. was pretty sure there was an obstruction, which requires emergency surgery, but was also thinking there might be a Burkett's lymphoma so decided to start with a round of chemotherapy. Because I was finished with the ward rounds I set to do this wee girl's chemo. There were a few things that really stand out in my mind. This girl is so tiny and so scrawny I can literally count every bone in her body; she is merely a skeleton with skin stretched over her. Except her abdomen which is huge, proportionately about the size of a 7 or 8 month pregnancy. Usually mom takes a frontline role when it comes to kids. But this little girl clung to her daddy, and daddy clung right back, while mom sat in the chair at the head of the bed. I gave dad some tracts to read while the chemo was going on. Offered them to mom also, but mom couldn't read. I listened as dad read the tracts in a mumbling sort of way to himself then would turn every few lines and explain to mom what he was reading. Such a sweet gesture. A little later on after girlie had settled, I could hear dad whispering over and over "mwan'ami" "mwan'ami" : "my child" "my child". Not only did this tug at my heart, I was reminded how our heavenly Father sits beside us at every moment of our lives whispering to us "my child" "my child". Do we cling to him like this little girler did? It was sad moment, several hours later, to receive a txt from JR- Our little chemo girl has just died...
The baby was with us about 2 1/2 weeks before I really began to pay attention. By that time the 1.9 kg birthweight baby was 1.730 and jaundiced! From that time on, Baby Gracious became my baby. I made sure the feeding tube was replaced when they mysteriously fell out day after day. I fought with mom to sit and feed her baby, to take her baby outside to get the sunlight. There were a lot of people involved in this little baby's short life- There were awesome ward nurses and blue ladies who pulled mom into the labour room to feed her baby, and encouraged her to sit outside, and called for help when the tube fell out. Every day it became a big thing to bring the little baby to the scale to see if she had gained any weight. Some days the scale had encouraging results, too many with no change or worse, a decrease in weight. All 44 days of baby Gracious' life were a struggle. Only one day did she make it to 2.0 kg- a moment of excitement for sure, tho she was still so jaundiced and frail and lethargic. Last week, I was called from dressing changes maybe only 10 minutes after seeing baby Gracious on ward rounds. The nurse on the ward needed help with a baby. I came into the room to see the nurse bagging our little baby. We started into a real recus'; bagging, oxygen, suction, the doctor was called, we gave adrenaline, once directly into the baby heart's. But we were unable to bring back the spark of life to the cold staring eyes. Its hard to let go after putting so much effort in, but this little baby has been freed now from a sickly and sin filled body, a body and maybe even a mind that would likely never function 'normally'. She has been freed from that and was taken into the arms of her heavenly Father.
I didn't really pay too much attention to the little old lady at first. We have so many of them at hospital. It was when I helped the doctor cut into the rotting wound on her foot that I recognized who she was. This is Chizungu. The little old lady who has only been known as 'old', as far back as any of the present day missionaries to NorthWest province know. She was about the size of a 10 year old when the first missionaries came to the area, so someone a number of years back kindly put her birth date as about 1905. Let me tell you about this lady. She knew HIM. Her life was spent walking village to village to tell people about HIM; about freedom from sin and fear and rituals and traditions; about life and peace and love; about a home in Heaven and about a God who gave not just a bunch of rules, not a list to check off to get in to heaven but gave Himself, poured Himself out to make a way, a free way for us to who were separated by sin to come to Him. Ye who were once afar off have been brought nigh by the blood of Christ." She walked the wards and corridors of the hospital countless times bringing this message to the sick and dying patients there. I remember her giving a message in the ladies in the colony sewing club when I first visited Chit. If she had a dollar for every step she took to take her message to the people around, she would be a very rich lady indeed. But she was rich for all she had little possessions, lived in a house given to her by one of the missionaries, had no fields to plant food in, lived off what she was given and supplied 'relatives' with these gifts also. She had next to no family, most people who she cared for in her home were people she had met on her travels. But the most outstanding thing about this lady was not her nomadic lifestyle, or her freedom from possessions, or her care of strangers - she knew HIM- to know Him whom to know is life eternal, she loved HIM- whom having not seen we love, she walked with Him- who walked this path long before any of us ever did. She died, but the last words on her lips were the promises of our Saviour "In my Father's house are many mansions, I go to prepare a place for you.' When she died, a bright light went out here. But what a moment that would have been in heaven: this tiny crooked- back, sightless little old lady with all the indignity of old age, standing straight and healed and gazing in wonder and love on her Saviour and her Friend. I'm sorry for not having the opportunity to get to know her better, but I'm so thankful for the example she left me, as an evangelist and as a woman- keep your eyes on those who walk according to the example you have in us.
Laughter is the simplest form of communication; I am always sure to provoke even the grumpiest of patients to a smile when I tell them "yami kashinakaji" "myself, I am old". Some days I may feel it, but the laugh and the resulting "kanda" "not yet" helps to focus on what I am doing here - building relationships and showing love and most importantly - showing God's love.
Meeting the kids in the corridor can sometimes be a bit daunting, but mostly, I think they just want to be noticed. High fives and hugs and tickles require slowing down and some times actually stopping when I'd rather hurry on to my next task, but its so worth it to see the smiles and not just of the kids :) And isn't that what God tries to tell us so many times 'slow down, I'm right here, the kid you just noticed that was Me, the kashinakaji you just greeted, that was Me, the crying mom you just held, that was Me. In as much as you have done it unto the least of these my children, you have done it unto Me. I'm learning and its a lesson I've been learning for so long now :S its not getting the task done that matters, contrary to my task orientated mind, it's the relationships that you build along the way, that's how God's so great love is shown still today.
I am greeted every morning by the crowing of roosters and every night I go to sleep to the howling of dogs and the chirping of crickets. Out the church window during services, I see goats grazing and the roosters' crowing joins our hymns of praise and worship.
The announcement in church today "phones are giving us trouble. Al phones must be closed before starting." The doctor's phone rings and he gets up to leave " The only phone that can remain open is Dr. McAdam's." The whole assembly erupts in laughter.
The bare foot, gray haired and wrinkled but beaming faces of the tushinakaji (old folks) coming in to church from the "bus" run, and hearing them sing along the way
I wish there were some way to capture my days and some how telepathically communicate not just the events but the meaning of them to you all. They are so many priceless moments. Some are beautiful and encouraging, some heartbreaking. Its these stories that are so hard to capture, the sentiment of the moment is destroyed by words, but bear with me as I try to describe to you the wonder of the little moments that make up my days...
Today was a surgery day, Thursdays always are. JR is a trained scrubbed nurse, she gets to hang out in the air conditioned theatre. Not that I mind, I like doing the ward rounds and watching patient progress and just generally being responsible for the day to day things. Today JR and I were the only ex pat nurses, no visiting nurses, no visiting doctors. That means lots of running back and forth between the wards and theatre- I have lots of questions! Around 1030, JR and Dr. McAdam started a complicated eye surgery that lasted for 5 hours. Around 1100 AM I started an induction of one of our high risk deliveries who was possibly expecting triplets (I have never done an induction before, I'm not even really a trained midwife). At 1300 hours, they were still in surgery and my lady had only progressed to 7-8 cms. Two of the theatre staff had left for lunch, one of them being the only trained nurse in theatre and therefore the only one able to start IV's and draw up medications, leaving that role dependent on myself. Shift change also happened at 13hrs and my expert maternity nurse was replaced by a 3 month new grad. I was maybe a little bit stressed; definitely doing a lot of running back and forth between theatre at one end of the hospital and maternity at the other end- just about every 1/2 hr or maybe slightly less. But in that theatre corridor there was a wee bright spot that not only made my day, but convicted and challenged and encouraged me also. Three of our patients sat in that corridor, all three in wheel chairs, all three had travelled far, far, far to come to Zambia to Chitokoloki Hospital because there's a good doctor here. These three men sat in a circle in this corridor that I must have stampeded up and down about 100 times today and each had a Bible open on his lap and were engaged in an intense and deep discussion regarding some portion of scripture. It was so totally cool! These are men who are struggling with health conditions, some long term, far away from their families, definitely with worries about food and survival and money, but to see them sit there and discuss the scripture was such a beautiful, wonderful thing. I have no idea what they were discussing, Angolans speak Portuguese, but it brought so much joy just watching them and knowing where two or three are gathered God is right there. In the business of my day, in the stress and the worry and the confusion, God is right here. Emmanuel, the God who has taken up residence with us.
We have this family in the kids' ward, I'm not really sure what to say about them, they are so dirty and unkempt; last time they were in it was a daily fight to get mom to wash her babies. They just look unhappy and miserable all the time and mom doesn't look much better. But one day I decided to pick up Kelvin. Mom had her hands full with baby Womba who's about a year and Kelvin was standing by the bed crying, crying, crying. I was maybe a little bit annoyed at such a whiny boy. But, he's pretty little himself, mom thinks maybe 2 years old. I guess maybe it's hard being so little and finding mom's lap full with another baby. So I picked him up, grime and all. And I fell in love! He's a sombre little boy, I think maybe a little shy. But as we've gotten to know each other, I've seen that he's a sensitive boy; he's very caring, he loves to share with his baby sister - maybe not always good things for her. He had a beautiful smile but he tries to hid it. He definitely has a mind of his own, and sometimes pretends to refuse being picked up, but if I keep coming back after the second or third time he usually greets me with open arms. And he gives the best hugs! He was made to cuddle. Mom came to us about a week and a half ago asking for a BTL, apparently she has 5 children and they are basically born one right after the other. She is here right now with Kazia who's about 4 and Kelvin and baby Womba. Her mom came with her, but gran refused to care for the younger two children. When we told her she needed a care giver, she started to cry, we could tell how much she wanted this, so JR and I worked it out between us and the blue ladies and mom was able to get her surgery done so she won't have more kids. But I had the privilege of taking these two sweet babies home and giving them a good scrub and feeding them and just getting to spend time with them and play with them! Any time mom sees me coming now she has a huge smile for me and even laughs as I spit out in my broken Lunda "mwan'etu" ~ "our child". Its been such a privilege to watch these three children start to fatten up and lose their miserable, waifish looks and begin to smile and laugh and play with the other children. I can't imagine going back now and not picking that little boy up. He's made my work experience and my life all the richer- love is the more excellent way!
This was another surgery day where it was just JR and I. Ward rounds were quick this day, I had finished all four wards and ICU by 10AM. The first case that had been planned for the day was a small girl, about 9 years old, from Angola. She was stick thin except for a HUGE abdomen. Dr. was pretty sure there was an obstruction, which requires emergency surgery, but was also thinking there might be a Burkett's lymphoma so decided to start with a round of chemotherapy. Because I was finished with the ward rounds I set to do this wee girl's chemo. There were a few things that really stand out in my mind. This girl is so tiny and so scrawny I can literally count every bone in her body; she is merely a skeleton with skin stretched over her. Except her abdomen which is huge, proportionately about the size of a 7 or 8 month pregnancy. Usually mom takes a frontline role when it comes to kids. But this little girl clung to her daddy, and daddy clung right back, while mom sat in the chair at the head of the bed. I gave dad some tracts to read while the chemo was going on. Offered them to mom also, but mom couldn't read. I listened as dad read the tracts in a mumbling sort of way to himself then would turn every few lines and explain to mom what he was reading. Such a sweet gesture. A little later on after girlie had settled, I could hear dad whispering over and over "mwan'ami" "mwan'ami" : "my child" "my child". Not only did this tug at my heart, I was reminded how our heavenly Father sits beside us at every moment of our lives whispering to us "my child" "my child". Do we cling to him like this little girler did? It was sad moment, several hours later, to receive a txt from JR- Our little chemo girl has just died...
The baby was with us about 2 1/2 weeks before I really began to pay attention. By that time the 1.9 kg birthweight baby was 1.730 and jaundiced! From that time on, Baby Gracious became my baby. I made sure the feeding tube was replaced when they mysteriously fell out day after day. I fought with mom to sit and feed her baby, to take her baby outside to get the sunlight. There were a lot of people involved in this little baby's short life- There were awesome ward nurses and blue ladies who pulled mom into the labour room to feed her baby, and encouraged her to sit outside, and called for help when the tube fell out. Every day it became a big thing to bring the little baby to the scale to see if she had gained any weight. Some days the scale had encouraging results, too many with no change or worse, a decrease in weight. All 44 days of baby Gracious' life were a struggle. Only one day did she make it to 2.0 kg- a moment of excitement for sure, tho she was still so jaundiced and frail and lethargic. Last week, I was called from dressing changes maybe only 10 minutes after seeing baby Gracious on ward rounds. The nurse on the ward needed help with a baby. I came into the room to see the nurse bagging our little baby. We started into a real recus'; bagging, oxygen, suction, the doctor was called, we gave adrenaline, once directly into the baby heart's. But we were unable to bring back the spark of life to the cold staring eyes. Its hard to let go after putting so much effort in, but this little baby has been freed now from a sickly and sin filled body, a body and maybe even a mind that would likely never function 'normally'. She has been freed from that and was taken into the arms of her heavenly Father.
I didn't really pay too much attention to the little old lady at first. We have so many of them at hospital. It was when I helped the doctor cut into the rotting wound on her foot that I recognized who she was. This is Chizungu. The little old lady who has only been known as 'old', as far back as any of the present day missionaries to NorthWest province know. She was about the size of a 10 year old when the first missionaries came to the area, so someone a number of years back kindly put her birth date as about 1905. Let me tell you about this lady. She knew HIM. Her life was spent walking village to village to tell people about HIM; about freedom from sin and fear and rituals and traditions; about life and peace and love; about a home in Heaven and about a God who gave not just a bunch of rules, not a list to check off to get in to heaven but gave Himself, poured Himself out to make a way, a free way for us to who were separated by sin to come to Him. Ye who were once afar off have been brought nigh by the blood of Christ." She walked the wards and corridors of the hospital countless times bringing this message to the sick and dying patients there. I remember her giving a message in the ladies in the colony sewing club when I first visited Chit. If she had a dollar for every step she took to take her message to the people around, she would be a very rich lady indeed. But she was rich for all she had little possessions, lived in a house given to her by one of the missionaries, had no fields to plant food in, lived off what she was given and supplied 'relatives' with these gifts also. She had next to no family, most people who she cared for in her home were people she had met on her travels. But the most outstanding thing about this lady was not her nomadic lifestyle, or her freedom from possessions, or her care of strangers - she knew HIM- to know Him whom to know is life eternal, she loved HIM- whom having not seen we love, she walked with Him- who walked this path long before any of us ever did. She died, but the last words on her lips were the promises of our Saviour "In my Father's house are many mansions, I go to prepare a place for you.' When she died, a bright light went out here. But what a moment that would have been in heaven: this tiny crooked- back, sightless little old lady with all the indignity of old age, standing straight and healed and gazing in wonder and love on her Saviour and her Friend. I'm sorry for not having the opportunity to get to know her better, but I'm so thankful for the example she left me, as an evangelist and as a woman- keep your eyes on those who walk according to the example you have in us.
Laughter is the simplest form of communication; I am always sure to provoke even the grumpiest of patients to a smile when I tell them "yami kashinakaji" "myself, I am old". Some days I may feel it, but the laugh and the resulting "kanda" "not yet" helps to focus on what I am doing here - building relationships and showing love and most importantly - showing God's love.
Meeting the kids in the corridor can sometimes be a bit daunting, but mostly, I think they just want to be noticed. High fives and hugs and tickles require slowing down and some times actually stopping when I'd rather hurry on to my next task, but its so worth it to see the smiles and not just of the kids :) And isn't that what God tries to tell us so many times 'slow down, I'm right here, the kid you just noticed that was Me, the kashinakaji you just greeted, that was Me, the crying mom you just held, that was Me. In as much as you have done it unto the least of these my children, you have done it unto Me. I'm learning and its a lesson I've been learning for so long now :S its not getting the task done that matters, contrary to my task orientated mind, it's the relationships that you build along the way, that's how God's so great love is shown still today.
I am greeted every morning by the crowing of roosters and every night I go to sleep to the howling of dogs and the chirping of crickets. Out the church window during services, I see goats grazing and the roosters' crowing joins our hymns of praise and worship.
The announcement in church today "phones are giving us trouble. Al phones must be closed before starting." The doctor's phone rings and he gets up to leave " The only phone that can remain open is Dr. McAdam's." The whole assembly erupts in laughter.
The bare foot, gray haired and wrinkled but beaming faces of the tushinakaji (old folks) coming in to church from the "bus" run, and hearing them sing along the way
Yesu hoho diyi natweshi
Kuwundisha muchima
Wukweti n'ovu niluwi
Wukukuwahisha
Jesus only is able
To cause peace in the heart
He has strength and mercy
He will cause you to be made good
The mud, sometimes three inches deep, on the way up to hospital- I sink in deep mire where there is no standing... rescue me from the mire... out of the goodness of Your love.
The beautiful acacia tree with its brilliant yellow blossoms outside my door reminds me of the streets paved with gold that I will walk one day.
The view of the beautiful Zambezi river on the pathway... Like a river glorious is God's perfect peace
The promise and the reminder, that in the good times and in the hard places God is with us. And in Jesus all God's promises are "yes" they all find their fulfillment in Him. Him, who is God with us
What precious moments, precious memories, little gifts given by my great and loving Father, reminders that He has walked this way already and is now walking it with me...
Wednesday 19 February 2014
110-240
I've upgraded my cheese whiz on toast to grill cheese sandwiches, but this is one night that I would love to be able to order pizza for delivery and then break into a tub of ice cream while I'm waiting. (Although chocolate sauce on yogurt is almost just as good).
I fried my router about a month back plugging a 110 into a 240 - whoops :S ! Just last week, I received a replacement router and have internet once again. Thankfully its a 240 plug this time and not a 110 lol!
It has been busy here these past two months since Christmas. Not busy like I was at home running (sometimes literally) from one activity to the next and then crashing. But steady, slow and steady and not really a chance to crash- although, my Saturdays off have become like gold! I'm learning as much as there is to do and as much as I want to be involved in different things I also must take time for myself to rest and refocus.
Earlier in the year we had several visiting doctors- a urologist, an ophthalmologist, an anesthesiologist, and an optometrist. Great fun and lots of opportunities to learn! Right now we have two medical students with us who are absolutely fabulous! They have been so much help not only in the practical things that need to get done but also learning from them on ward rounds which has been really great! So many times I feel completely out of my depth but its great to be able to refer to Jonathan or Rachel and be able to discuss patients with them.
Emma has taken the month off to focus on language studies. And this past week she has gone into a village to live for the week and work alongside the people there, which I think is a totally fabulous idea! But I am very much looking forward to her return to hospital next month!
Our patients in hospital right now are all mostly chronic (oddly enough) so its actually not too bad on ward rounds to know what is going on with pretty much all of the patients. A family from kids' ward has caught my especial attention. The older two kids were in for malaria, but the three of them are pretty malnourished and just sorta run down. So we've kept them here for a bit to help with their nutrition. Mom asked for a BTL last week, and we found out there are actually 5 kids all pretty much one year after another. The three that are here are about 1 year, about 2-3 years and about 4 years- mom's not really sure when the kids were born. I appreciate the freedom here to help out in patients' lives and I love that when I come into the ward when the two older kids see me they will come to me to be picked up and cuddled. I pray that bridges will be built and that mom and kiddies will come to know not just that there is help here but also the love of our great Saviour Jesus Christ.
Working in hospital, death is pretty common, but we had one of the ladies from the church die a few weeks back. No one is really sure how old Chizungu was, just that she was about the size of a 10 year old when some of the first missionaries came through in 1914. So its been estimated she was born about 1905 making her 109 when she died. Everyone that is currently on the station will say "Chizungu was old when we came" and that goes back about 30 years for some of the missionaries. But that aside; this was a woman who lived out her faith. She travelled so far on foot just to spread the truth about God, about His love and His forgiveness available to all who will come to Him and repent of their sin. She had stopped before I came, but she would frequently go up to the wards and tell this message to the patients there. She came to us about a week before she dies with a rooting foot and eventually died partly form old age and partly from complications of the foot. But oh it's so awesome to think that the bent back and the dull ears and the rotting foot are all healed now and the eyes that were losing their sight are now filled with the glory and beauty of her Saviour. Its sad to see her light go out here, but just imagine what she is seeing now!
The truck has just come in late last night with the container from Canada- unfortunately it was raining pretty hard on and off today so it wasn't opened. But I am excited to see what has been sent from friends and family back home!
I think that is about all. oh! I almost forgot- I have been given a name. I'm probably more excited about it than it warrants but its just cool to have a Lunda name now, Kason'u (which doesn't have a meaning per se, its 'a good Lunda name').
But that is all I can think of. I have loved reading your emails and hearing news from home, I'm sorry for those I've missed responding to, I will get to you! I think my grill cheese sandwich is ready and then I think its time for bed!
love to you all!
I fried my router about a month back plugging a 110 into a 240 - whoops :S ! Just last week, I received a replacement router and have internet once again. Thankfully its a 240 plug this time and not a 110 lol!
It has been busy here these past two months since Christmas. Not busy like I was at home running (sometimes literally) from one activity to the next and then crashing. But steady, slow and steady and not really a chance to crash- although, my Saturdays off have become like gold! I'm learning as much as there is to do and as much as I want to be involved in different things I also must take time for myself to rest and refocus.
Earlier in the year we had several visiting doctors- a urologist, an ophthalmologist, an anesthesiologist, and an optometrist. Great fun and lots of opportunities to learn! Right now we have two medical students with us who are absolutely fabulous! They have been so much help not only in the practical things that need to get done but also learning from them on ward rounds which has been really great! So many times I feel completely out of my depth but its great to be able to refer to Jonathan or Rachel and be able to discuss patients with them.
Emma has taken the month off to focus on language studies. And this past week she has gone into a village to live for the week and work alongside the people there, which I think is a totally fabulous idea! But I am very much looking forward to her return to hospital next month!
Our patients in hospital right now are all mostly chronic (oddly enough) so its actually not too bad on ward rounds to know what is going on with pretty much all of the patients. A family from kids' ward has caught my especial attention. The older two kids were in for malaria, but the three of them are pretty malnourished and just sorta run down. So we've kept them here for a bit to help with their nutrition. Mom asked for a BTL last week, and we found out there are actually 5 kids all pretty much one year after another. The three that are here are about 1 year, about 2-3 years and about 4 years- mom's not really sure when the kids were born. I appreciate the freedom here to help out in patients' lives and I love that when I come into the ward when the two older kids see me they will come to me to be picked up and cuddled. I pray that bridges will be built and that mom and kiddies will come to know not just that there is help here but also the love of our great Saviour Jesus Christ.
Working in hospital, death is pretty common, but we had one of the ladies from the church die a few weeks back. No one is really sure how old Chizungu was, just that she was about the size of a 10 year old when some of the first missionaries came through in 1914. So its been estimated she was born about 1905 making her 109 when she died. Everyone that is currently on the station will say "Chizungu was old when we came" and that goes back about 30 years for some of the missionaries. But that aside; this was a woman who lived out her faith. She travelled so far on foot just to spread the truth about God, about His love and His forgiveness available to all who will come to Him and repent of their sin. She had stopped before I came, but she would frequently go up to the wards and tell this message to the patients there. She came to us about a week before she dies with a rooting foot and eventually died partly form old age and partly from complications of the foot. But oh it's so awesome to think that the bent back and the dull ears and the rotting foot are all healed now and the eyes that were losing their sight are now filled with the glory and beauty of her Saviour. Its sad to see her light go out here, but just imagine what she is seeing now!
The truck has just come in late last night with the container from Canada- unfortunately it was raining pretty hard on and off today so it wasn't opened. But I am excited to see what has been sent from friends and family back home!
I think that is about all. oh! I almost forgot- I have been given a name. I'm probably more excited about it than it warrants but its just cool to have a Lunda name now, Kason'u (which doesn't have a meaning per se, its 'a good Lunda name').
But that is all I can think of. I have loved reading your emails and hearing news from home, I'm sorry for those I've missed responding to, I will get to you! I think my grill cheese sandwich is ready and then I think its time for bed!
love to you all!
Monday 13 January 2014
in everything Give Thanks
The young man stops me on my home from the hospital, he's probably about 16 or so, a student, but well dressed: Madam, I want you to assist me with a new bag, he says to me.
The son of one of our patients nabs me in the corridor as I pass "Sister," he says; he is grave and earnest, "sister, I want a songbook"
He's an older man, about in his 60's, but he's fit and strong and has many years ahead of him now his surgery is over. I'm hoping to discharge him, but its only about 2 weeks from his surgery, so I check how far away he is before I ask the doctor if he is OK to go. "I live in Lukulu district, it is 5 hours walk." After I check with the doctor, I return to tell him the good news, the doctor is pleased with his progress and how he has tolerated surgery, he is not worried where he lives and he is OK to go. "But sister," he replies "how will I get there?"
"Well, you can wait in old hospital if you want to arrange transportation," "How long will that take" Incomprehendingly I respond "as long as it takes you to sort it" "Oh, but aren't you going to help me?" Realization dawns; although we've given him food, and medicines and medical care and intensive, life saving surgery for free, he is also asking for free transportation home. "Oh no, sorry! You will have to find your own way to get home. I'm sorry but we have no way to get all the patients home from all the far places where they live."
But its the kids who probably drive me the battiest!
Give me dolly. Give me sweetie. Give me notebook. Give me motorcar. Give me...
The lyrics of the song from my last post have been playing repeatedly through my mind these past few weeks: Each day I pledge it new, my imperfect gratitude, from now on.
Is this what I sound like to God? Give me a quiet day at hospital. Give me a quiet evening with no interruptions. Give me help as I do this procedure. Give me someone to talk to. Give me a bug free house. Give me.... The list goes on.
And then when I don't get what I want, what I expect, what I think I deserve: "Why did You let that happen? What are You doing to me? What do You want from me? Why are You doing this to me?"
Ah! The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked.
My Father. Can you imagine? This is the God of the universe. Have I ever stopped to consider this? The Creator God. The Holy God. The Righteous God. The Judging God. The Supremely Powerful Almighty God. The Sovereign God. He is in control of everything. He holds all the starry host in His hand. He knows them all by name. He is all knowing and all powerful and ever present. He is the Great Enigma. So great as to be beyond the furthest extent of our comprehension and knowledge. The wisest wisdom and the most knowledgeable knowledge are superseded by far by the most foolish of His knowledge and His wisdom. He is totally awesome and powerful and holy and so far above us.
Yet He tells us we can call Him "Father" ... more than that: "Abba" ... "Daddy" .... this stuns me. takes my breath away. The Holy Awesome Creator God... Daddy??!" You mean the one who had one simple rule, just one- don't eat - and we broke it, we disobeyed Him? The One who time and again sent people and ways to bring us back to Him- Moses and the 10 commandments, David and his beautiful psalms about God's mercy and forgiveness, Isaiah and his foretellings of the promised Messiah. The One who choose to love us so much that He become one of us? Who, rather than be separated from a bunch of sinful people who broke His rules and spat on everything He created and valued, offered His own Son to die in our place... in my place. The One who has blessed His children- those who have taken Him as their God, who have accepted Him as Saviour and Lord- with every spiritual blessing and a great deal of earthly blessings too? This One who is so great and so rich has said to those poor sinful wretches "Please Dear Ones, call me Daddy"
I am stunned.
He has done so much for me and all I can do is ask for more and complain when I don't get it. And then I am reminded of the people around, the ones who push for more, who complain when they feel they aren't treated fairly, the ones who get under my skin (because you see, usually the ones who need help the most are the ones who never ask for anything, who are always cheerful and gracious and strong). I am shamed. Let me see myself in these people, let it change me, let me see my ever loving, ever compassionate, ever gracious Father, reaching down to bestow blessing after blessing on an ungrateful, uncaring wretch and teach me how to love like You have loved!
This is the will of God concerning you:
Be always rejoicing
Pray without stopping
Give thanks in everything
Each day I pledge it new, my imperfect gratitude, from now on!
1) waking up this morning to birds and owls and roosters and crickets
2) knowing God is with me in this moment and that makes it perfect!
3) running home from church with Alison during a huge rainstorm and stopping to jump in the puddles on the way
4) Causing the whole women's ward to erupt in laughter by pulling a mild prank and tying a colleague to a patient bed with her scrub top ties
5) delivering a beautiful baby girl from a first time mom who struggled to deliver and watching life breathe into her
6) celebrating with the nkaka- dancing in the maternity ward and being smothered in talcum powder in nkaka's excitement
7) God's grace- greater than my fear - scrubbing in to assist with a complicated surgery (I am NOT a surgical nurse)
8)the four sweet little kiddies who came asking 'can you tell us a bible story'
9) knowing that this day is held completely in His hands whatever happens
The son of one of our patients nabs me in the corridor as I pass "Sister," he says; he is grave and earnest, "sister, I want a songbook"
He's an older man, about in his 60's, but he's fit and strong and has many years ahead of him now his surgery is over. I'm hoping to discharge him, but its only about 2 weeks from his surgery, so I check how far away he is before I ask the doctor if he is OK to go. "I live in Lukulu district, it is 5 hours walk." After I check with the doctor, I return to tell him the good news, the doctor is pleased with his progress and how he has tolerated surgery, he is not worried where he lives and he is OK to go. "But sister," he replies "how will I get there?"
"Well, you can wait in old hospital if you want to arrange transportation," "How long will that take" Incomprehendingly I respond "as long as it takes you to sort it" "Oh, but aren't you going to help me?" Realization dawns; although we've given him food, and medicines and medical care and intensive, life saving surgery for free, he is also asking for free transportation home. "Oh no, sorry! You will have to find your own way to get home. I'm sorry but we have no way to get all the patients home from all the far places where they live."
But its the kids who probably drive me the battiest!
Give me dolly. Give me sweetie. Give me notebook. Give me motorcar. Give me...
The lyrics of the song from my last post have been playing repeatedly through my mind these past few weeks: Each day I pledge it new, my imperfect gratitude, from now on.
Is this what I sound like to God? Give me a quiet day at hospital. Give me a quiet evening with no interruptions. Give me help as I do this procedure. Give me someone to talk to. Give me a bug free house. Give me.... The list goes on.
And then when I don't get what I want, what I expect, what I think I deserve: "Why did You let that happen? What are You doing to me? What do You want from me? Why are You doing this to me?"
Ah! The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked.
My Father. Can you imagine? This is the God of the universe. Have I ever stopped to consider this? The Creator God. The Holy God. The Righteous God. The Judging God. The Supremely Powerful Almighty God. The Sovereign God. He is in control of everything. He holds all the starry host in His hand. He knows them all by name. He is all knowing and all powerful and ever present. He is the Great Enigma. So great as to be beyond the furthest extent of our comprehension and knowledge. The wisest wisdom and the most knowledgeable knowledge are superseded by far by the most foolish of His knowledge and His wisdom. He is totally awesome and powerful and holy and so far above us.
Yet He tells us we can call Him "Father" ... more than that: "Abba" ... "Daddy" .... this stuns me. takes my breath away. The Holy Awesome Creator God... Daddy??!" You mean the one who had one simple rule, just one- don't eat - and we broke it, we disobeyed Him? The One who time and again sent people and ways to bring us back to Him- Moses and the 10 commandments, David and his beautiful psalms about God's mercy and forgiveness, Isaiah and his foretellings of the promised Messiah. The One who choose to love us so much that He become one of us? Who, rather than be separated from a bunch of sinful people who broke His rules and spat on everything He created and valued, offered His own Son to die in our place... in my place. The One who has blessed His children- those who have taken Him as their God, who have accepted Him as Saviour and Lord- with every spiritual blessing and a great deal of earthly blessings too? This One who is so great and so rich has said to those poor sinful wretches "Please Dear Ones, call me Daddy"
I am stunned.
He has done so much for me and all I can do is ask for more and complain when I don't get it. And then I am reminded of the people around, the ones who push for more, who complain when they feel they aren't treated fairly, the ones who get under my skin (because you see, usually the ones who need help the most are the ones who never ask for anything, who are always cheerful and gracious and strong). I am shamed. Let me see myself in these people, let it change me, let me see my ever loving, ever compassionate, ever gracious Father, reaching down to bestow blessing after blessing on an ungrateful, uncaring wretch and teach me how to love like You have loved!
This is the will of God concerning you:
Be always rejoicing
Pray without stopping
Give thanks in everything
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
Each day I pledge it new, my imperfect gratitude, from now on!
1) waking up this morning to birds and owls and roosters and crickets
2) knowing God is with me in this moment and that makes it perfect!
3) running home from church with Alison during a huge rainstorm and stopping to jump in the puddles on the way
4) Causing the whole women's ward to erupt in laughter by pulling a mild prank and tying a colleague to a patient bed with her scrub top ties
5) delivering a beautiful baby girl from a first time mom who struggled to deliver and watching life breathe into her
6) celebrating with the nkaka- dancing in the maternity ward and being smothered in talcum powder in nkaka's excitement
7) God's grace- greater than my fear - scrubbing in to assist with a complicated surgery (I am NOT a surgical nurse)
8)the four sweet little kiddies who came asking 'can you tell us a bible story'
9) knowing that this day is held completely in His hands whatever happens
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