So some days I pray and some days I curse

A sad number of days I put myself first

But it's not what I do, the cross made that plain

And one day Jesus will call my name

I've been up since 0400hrs

I'm tired. I'm done with this hospital, these patients, these people coming coming coming. Unending questions and ques. All last week was surgery all day everyday until 1800hrs. This week hasn't been much different- just the surgery is different: emergencies instead of planned procedures.


It's a never ending barrage of people- staff, patients, colleagues coming with questions, requests, complaints. And I wish I could say that I handle them graciously.

When my Lord looked upon the multitude 'he had compassion upon them'. Today, and sadly most days, I'm thinking 'why are you all coming here?' 'Can't you go to another hospital?' 'I just want some time to myself.' 'I'm tired of all this and all of you with the same problems all the time.' 'I want one day where everything that was planned goes according to plan- no surprises and especially no hospital emergencies.' 'Is it too much to ask for a nap?!?'


Despite all these complaints, I don't really hate it here- tho it likely sounds like it. In fact, I do love it! Most days. But today self and self pity have grabbed hold of my hands and are holding tight making it nearly impossible to reach out and grasp the hand of grace outstretched beside me. Cursing is coming far too easily today from this tongue that is supposed to have been purged and prepared to only speak words of grace and blessing 

I lay down finally to have a nap. Just 15 mins, please! I had hoped to go to Bible study today but not thinking I'll get there. Just lain down when my phone rings. Yes, the others have been in theatre and could I stay with the patient so they can go get lunch. Of course!

The patient is dreadfully sick. Another lady has been watched closely for delivery and has delivered well. But another is struggling still and will need some one on one from our midwife. My nap plans are gone. So too, are my plans for bible study. And besides the clinic line is horrendous!

1400...
1500...
1600...

1700... Finally a wee lull. The clinic line is still scary. Our second lady has been brought down to theatre with the tentative plan of a possible section. But I've finished most of the piddly ward stuff. Just a wee blood test but I have to find strips. So I wander off to one of the missionaries' homes who has a similar machine in the hopes of finding strips for our machine.

1800...
1900...
And finally I can go home. But this baby is still not delivered. Mom is struggling. Midwife is certain will need a section. (Doctor a bit skeptical tho). Baby is high up and not dropping. So with the threat of a pending abortion, I and a visitor make our way homeward. Our parting wards: we need to pray that we get this baby in the next half hour.



Thirty five minutes later- we have a baby girl. Wow!


It's not what I do, the cross made that plain.


This has been a day filled with grumbling and complaining. And yet God still chose to answer our prayers. I'm more than a little awed here. This is unmerited Grace. This is the same grace the led the holy, perfect, righteous Son of God to hang a broken and bleeding man on a Roman cross for a broken, bleeding soul that was doomed. This is Amazing Grace. This is Relentless Love. This is Undeserved Mercy.

The older I get, the more I realize how right God is in pointing out my brokenness and my flaws and
yes my sin. And the more I realize I can never reach the standard of goodness and righteousness that
is God. Oh! But day by day I'm learning more and more- 'it's not what I do, the cross made that plain.
It's what he's done. It's his grace and mercy and love that has made the difference in my life.


I'm crawling into bed tonight so thankful that I'm not being called up for a section in twenty minutes. But more than that, I've been reminded yet again, while we 'do not know what a day will bring forth' there is one Who does and he 'gives unto each day what he deems best, lovingly it's part of pain and pleasure mingling sorrow with peace and rest'. His is the hand of outstretched grace. Amazing Grace.
Grace that doesn't overlook, but sees and knows and understands and forgives.



I will lie down in peace and sleep, for you alone oh Lord make me dwell in safety.
He gives to his beloved rest

So blessed

Sixteen and pregnant
Fifteen and pregnant
Fourteen and pregnant


Ah, dear girl, 'wuchidi kansi ho'. - you are still young only

Have you gone to school?
Yes

What grade?
Grade 7, grade 8, grade 10, grade 4

Wuna kushakama ku ulo? Are you sitting in a marriage?
No...

Where is the one who gave you the pregnancy?
On the village...


"You are too young!" My heart cries; but my tongue has no words...

And if I did, would you listen little girl?

Me- I am just the chindele kufuma kuputu- the white person from a far away country. What do I know of your culture, your way of life, the expectations you face?

I know that's what you're thinking, I can see it in your face, hear it in your laugh. Not always, but often enough that I know what it means...

Your mother stands beside you as I announce- you are six months, you are three months, you are eight months.

This is your first delivery, please come to the hospital to deliver

Your last pregnancy ended in an abortion, please come to the hospital to deliver

You are having your second baby, but you are only 17, please come to the hospital to deliver

I see that look of pride from mom- "my daughter is having a baby" and babies are so exciting! Even me, I know that. But that look of pride has more cultural significance- my daughter will give her husband lots of children, my daughter has value because she can reproduce.

And then I see that roll of the eyes and the little smirk, not always, but often enough that I know what it means.... How inconvenient to be told to come to the hospital when you have grown up seeing babies delivered on your village, even in your own home



Little girl, I wish I had the words... Babies are awesome. But in their time. I wish I could teach you to respect your body, to say 'no', that you are more important than your ability to reproduce, that education is so important for yourself and for the children that you will and can have- at the right time. And most of all, that you can make a difference in your village, in the lives of the little people growing up around you. You can bring education and development and change - good change.


But it's not only the girl. Where are these boys- or worse men- who are giving these girls pregnancies? Some of these girls are cheeky- you will find that in every culture and nation under the sun. But many are not- many are following cultural expectations, or worse, don't know any better. But it's the girls I get in the clinic line, the girls coming from antenatal clinic with a note asking for gestational age, it's the girls on the bed that I am scanning. The boy- or man- is not there. So it's the girls who hear:

But you're only 16,17,18
You're still in school
You're not married

I don't have any more words that I can say. Just to watch, helpless, as another child gets ready to give birth to a child...













Helpless? Did I say that? We are not helpless.
This is something that burns in my heart every time I scan a young mother for gestational age. But I am learning, we stand in the strength of our God and Father, praying, hoping, trying, working. But most of all, trusting. He is the one who saves souls, He is the one who changes lives. Us here- we are His hands and heart to a broken, messy world. Not to make the difference, simply to trust Him to make the difference. I work on learning the language, on getting out into the villages to build relationships, on health education with the girls (and guys) that come under my influence, and most of all, on sharing Christ, sharing His love. I don't have any answers, but this is what I can do

Treasures of the Earth- God's storehouse


The jackaranda tree is in bloom again. I love this tree, it's so pretty!

I went to the fields this morning with some of my young friends- Mercy (11) and her older sister Mildred (17). And I discovered another of my young friends is the brother to these two girls- Gershom (13)or as I know him- Junior. Eliza (8) younger sister to Mercy n Mildred had malaria yesterday so she didn't come with.

Last time I went to cultivate I learned how to use their hoe to clear away brush and vines and old sticks from the cassava mounds.

This time Mildred informed me I would learn how to dig for makamba- the root of the cassava plant which they pound into flour to make the main ingredient of nshima the staple of their diet.


Nothing to it, I have learned, just digging in the dirt at the bottom of the plant for the root- kinda like a long, thick, woody potato. When one is found, you dig around until you can loosen it from the dirt, then break it off the plant and leave it in a pile to collect once you are finished.

Although, if you look closely at the mounds, in some of the places you can see where the packed dirt has cracked from the top of the mound down towards the bottom. If you start to dig there you will find many of these roots and many of a good size. Who would've known that the earth can actually tell you where is the best place to dig.


I pause for a moment from my work and look around at my companions- barefoot, dressed in 'work' clothes, the little one half humming and half singing a Sunday school song, the blazing blue of the sky above, the warmth of the brown dirt on my bare feet, the prickles of the cassava plant, the weight of the hoe in my hands, my permanently dirt stained hands and feet. And my mind goes back some years to a plush, posh work dinner everyone in their finest clothes, the best that the city of London Ontario has to offer, some of the brightest minds in relation to my profession... Is this really me? Am I really here now, digging in the dirt with two young girls I call friends and loving every minute of it???




After we collected two buckets full of cassava roots, Mildred n Mercy took me down a ways to where their mother and brothers Gershom and Peter were working. Mama Solochi had an axe and was cutting sticks of mature cassava plants, while the boys collected those sticks into a pile... For burning?? Nope! For planting.

Imagine taking a stick of a plant, putting it in the ground (right side up of course- there's a trick to knowing that) and leaving it until the rains come in three months time to water it. And then, dry season after dry season digging up the roots to make nshima with.

I am not much of a gardener or a farmer to be sure, so maybe people know this already. But this amazes me! A simple stick becomes a staple part of a country's diet.

Isn't our God amazing! These are a simple people, they live simply off the land and God provides for them simply. A stick planted, grows roots and leaves and year after year after year for maybe the last thousand years or so this people has dug the roots to provide their daily bread. Amazing in His simplicity.

You cause the grass to grow for the livestock and plants for man to cultivate, that he may bring forth food from the earth... O LORD, how manifold are your works! In wisdom have you made them all... I will sing to the Lord as long as I live... I will rejoice in the Lord... Bless The Lord, oh my soul. Praise the Lord.

Oh the things I am seeing and the lessons I am learning from digging in the dirt. My God is amazing!

On the way home, Mildred rolls up an old chitengi into an 'mbun'a' and places it on my head. Onto that she lifts one of the heavy bowls of nyikamba (cassava roots). Eish, its heavy! My balance is terrible so I hold it tight with one hand all the way back to their village- maybe a twenty minute walk (normally only about ten). Greetings come for each village we pass and tho I don't hear Luvale well, I can tell they are commenting and laughing about my attempt to carry this bowl on my head. Meh- let them laugh- it's laughter that draws people together and makes friendships. And many of them, it's not mocking, it seems more appreciation for trying to learn what comes as second nature to them.... Well, I'll think that anyway😝. My neck and shoulders ache once the load is finally lifted from my head. But me- I can't wait till the next time I can go back once more to the fields

Laughter is good for the soul



So many laughs shared over pizza and nachos and cokes and ice cream. A fair treat out here! All the things that signify rich living in the bush here.

When did these women become such good friends? When did they become part of my life's blood? As dear to me as the friends I left behind. Not replacing. Never replacing. Just room made for new dear ones.


New laughs. New stories. New awkward moments that you can never share. New inside jokes.

Somewhere between surgery and wards. Long nights in theatre and long nights of rook. Between hospital work and village work. Between exams and paperwork. Over chocolate and coffee. Around the table and in the living room. Sometime, somewhere a corner was turned and these 'strangers' became friends. And more than friends- good friends, close friends, dear friends.


So tonight we feasted. Not just on treats- homemade pizza, tortillas out of date, ice cream from a package- but on each other's company. On sharing laughs and jokes and songs and stories. Making precious memories.

There might not be another night the four of us sit around a table again to share such fun (and such food).  Tonight, I savour the memory of friendship in a place I thought I might never enjoy such close friendships.

Ah! But God has blessed me.

Such dear friends at home. Such dear friends here

Doesn't He wait daily to load us with blessings. More than we can carry.
Sometimes the way is dark and long and weary. Sometimes God seems silent. But we know He is here beside us. He will never forsake or forget His people, the sheep of His pasture.

Oh how abundant is your goodness which you have stored up for those who fear you.


Daily loaded with blessing. And even more stored up. We are the happiest of all people who know the Lord!

The best part of waking up...

Are the roosters crowing


Maybe that wouldn't be your favourite thing... I mean they do make a terrible racket....


I awoke at five again today. No wonder I am so dead by nine pm every night 😀.
But it's been so lovely to sit here, snuggled in my blankets with a cozy sweater and listen to the world wake up.

It was so dark when I first awoke.... Actually it still is.. Another fifteen minutes or so before the dark begins to fade into navy, then grey, then the bright sunny light of a new day.


A new day full of hope and promise. And best of all- full of God Himself.


I've been sitting here all snuggled up, my hands busy twisting yarn into a new blanket for the birth of a dear friend's first baby.  Mind busy with ever so many thoughts. And ears full of the roosters crowing, crowing, crowing. Like a terrible orchestra. Or is it?

Let everything that hath breath praise the Lord.

And they are- welcoming the morning in. Heralds of the new day. "God is here in this day! Praise Him with all you are. Do the thing He has given you to do and do it well - even if it is a small thing to do."

Fridays are my 'day off'

What a misnomer - on my 'day off' I catch up on emails- the terribly important ones that you have to think about before you send 😣

I write thank you letters and other sorts of letters. Do some visiting. Plan message for the girls dorm bible study. Prepare food for the week ahead- KD tastes awesome, but not the most healthy 😜. Sort boxes, piles, the shelf that has become my "to deal with later" shelf 😣- that's always a scary place. Do some baking. Prayer meeting at 16 and girls dorm at 19.  Oh but the best part- I don't have to be up to hospital by 7- I can start my day at 8 instead- love it!!


But this weekend I'm on call-

So, I'm going up to the hospital for rounds. Then heading out to review colony patients- missed them on wednesday because of school trip for praziquantel administration. Then squeezing all of the above activities into the interim between finishing up at colony and going out to prayer meeting.


I will collapse into my bed tonight, praying for no calls up to hospital, or at the very least manageable ones (no major bleeds, obstructions or difficult deliveries) and ask myself - 'did I walk with God today?' Sometimes it's hard to see. Sometimes, I'm so caught up in the things that I'm doing that I forgot He is at my right hand, waiting to 'help me with each task if only I'll ask'. He is a gracious God who doesn't force Himself into anyone's life- He waits to shower my day with blessing, to extend grace in this incredibly messy day, to be the arms I collapse into when it just gets too much.


Maybe the crowing roosters have a lesson for me today- 'praise Him. He has given me these things to do. Praise Him for the tasks, and praise Him for being the arm of strength that 'helps me with each task'.'



I can see the faint outlines of the tree out my window now as the sun rises to greet the new day. The roosters are still crowing. The bell up at the church has been banged. The day has arrived. Today is a day for delighting in the Lord

Me- I am blessed.


It's not every day you meet someone at your doorstep and physically, literally get to carry out words of our Lord Himself:

"Give to everyone that asks of you"


It was a surprise the little lady sitting on my chair outside my door. After we greeted each other, and after I had squashed that niggling annoyance 'who was this lady and what did she want from me!' And after she stream of Luvale words. I discovered she was one of my patients from colony, and she had no money to buy food with and she was asking if I could share some with her.

I have moved the bulk of that operation up to hospital kitchen to avoid ppl at my doorstep. Somedays- long, exhausting days- meeting someone at your doorstep can often be the straw that breaks the camel's back. But today those words played thru my mind and I made it my joy to bring her what I had- a bit of sugar, some salt, some cooking oil, a bag of rice, beans, soups, bit of meat. Oh and some biscuits- just cuz who doesn't like a sweet treat :)

Then she asked me something else... I caught the occasional word...


Mwan'ami... Fwika... Chishika...

Hmm.... My child.... Something... Cold...

Ah! A blanket! Gotcha! Another easy problem to solve



It's only a small thing. And since we're keeping them here at least two months it's the least I can do to help with food. Maybe some would argue it's not wise giving. But most of the time, by the time they come to ask me, they're pretty desperate for something....  Besides, wasn't it our Lord Himself who said- give to everyone who asks of you...




So, I am going about my evening tasks with a smile, thankful that God has used me to meet one person's small need.




It's been a long while folks... Sorry... Blogging has been relegated to the bottom of the list but will try to do better in the coming weeks and months.

Thanks for all the support and love that has been shown to my family n I over the events of the last little while

Enjoy the Lord today :)

Lord over many waters

That last post is one that I had been working on for a few weeks and wanted to get it out before I came to this most important post.

Last Thursday, I received a call from my mom that my little brother, 22 yrs, was taken quite ill. Had been sedated and intubated the Tuesday before and now was being transferred from our community hospital down to Toronto to mount Sinai for treatment.

So many of you joined in prayers and support and I am thankful for that! So thankful!

They are slowly waking my brother up, but he is not without damage to other body systems. His kidneys being one of them. He was started on dialysis Monday night.

His illness started with pneumonia with developed into acute respiratory distress syndrome. ARDS has a mortality rate of fifty percent so the doctors tell us.

As I mentioned, they are slowly waking my brother Ryan up and it is encouraging to see him respond to us again, and especially to my mom who is his primary caregiver. Hopefully over the next few days he will become conscious again. And hopefully his lungs will be able to function properly when the team extubates him.

 My aunt, rosemary sheldon, and her son are also flying In from Dublin to be with us at is time.



Currently, I am at home with my family in Toronto waiting to see how things progress here.

Your continued prayers are of such value.


The lines:

Tho sundered far, by faith we meet,
Around one common mercy seat

Have never meant more to me than at this time. And I am amazed yet again, at how amazing our God is. And how amazing His family is.



He is Lord over many waters. He sits enthroned above the floods
Underneath are his everlasting arms
He has hedged us in behind and before and laid His hand upon our head
When we walk thru the waters He is with us
Oh! How abundant is Your goodness which you have stored up for those who fear you 

The call comes at midnight and my stomach drops immediately upon seeing the name. It's the nurse in the maternity dpt. I'm am so not ready for this. I was given a run down of what to do if I was called. But this is it now. Our pre eclamptic lady who is only 32 weeks is actively pushing. I have to be ready for mom to develop full blown eclampsia and I have to be ready for a floppy baby requiring lots of resus and quite likely not able to make it. Well, delaying won't help the situation.

I use Emma's quad to go up to Hosp, but as I as I am getting it ready, Emma's friend and visiting doctor, Gayle Wallace, hears me and offers to come up with me. Thrilled, I immediately say yes! Good to have company in situations like this.

When we arrive up at hospital, and much to my relief. The nurse is holding a living whimpering baby and taking her over to the resus trolley for just a bit of suctioning.
"Sorry! She delivered so fast! I called you and then the baby was here!"

"Not a problem! We have a healthy mom. And the baby is mostly ok." Dr. Gayle and the nurse work on the baby, while I help mom with the last few steps in delivery.

What excitement to tell a living, mom in stable condition that she has a healthy, beautiful baby girl!




This day is a surgery day. Tuesday. My day to do ward rounds by myself. I love these days as it affords an opportunity to go slowly thru the wards and study each patient carefully. I finished rounds in maternity, and then was informed by the nurse
"Sister, can you come? We are delivering twins and the first is breech"

I examine mom and find she is right ready to push. Won't be long now. I'm glad to be here. The challenge of breech and twin deliveries is invigorating. But looking at mom, I have to swallow back a lump of fear.

Our ladies tend to be tiny! 4.10 to 5.6 and about 35-40kg. This lady is easily 5.10 and probably close to 80kg. Big moms= big babies. And if the first one is breech. We might be dealing with an impacted head at some point. Well, get her up in stirrups and get ready to go. I was right, baby 1 is huge (Zambian size) but with only a slight struggle with one arm and a good tug of the head, baby one is born. Squalling, healthy baby boy weighing in at 3.150 kg. baby 2 literally slips out after him a few pushes later, healthy baby girl weighing in at 2.8. So thrilled! This was by far my most difficult breech delivery yet.

After, I I finish there, I head down to theatres to tell our doctor and our midwife of our success. What is success if it's not gloated over ;) and find they are doing cataract surgery. Great! I've been wanting to learn to scrub in for cataract surgery. So JR walks me thru the steps, explaining what is happening and why it is happening. You only have one chance with the eye so the scrub nurse really needs to know what is happening and why and be able to give the doctor what he needs, not what he asks for.

The afternoon finds me scrubbed in for two cataract surgeries myself. One of which was successfully the other was started then cancelled due to other medical conditions.

Where else, could you work with such diversity :)



This was my weekend on call. I leave pool volley ball on saturday to go up to Hosp to see a pt in maternity for a blood test. While I'm there, the ambulance arrives bringing a patient with suspected ruptured spleen. I bring the patient down to clinic to ur the ultra sound over him, but the picture isn't clear. Whatever it is, there's an awful lot of fluid sin that belly! Call the team up for surgery. What else would you do with a saturday evening if not for surgery? Turns out it's a liver laceration. We finished up there around 2330. Patient in stable condition. Three or four lacerations sutured up. Main risk over night- bleeding.

At 0230, I receive a call. "Sister, there's a patient in icu that is bleeding. The one in the corner bed."

Rats! our liver! race up to Hosp on the bike. Well, pleased to discover it's not our liver laceration patient. Instead it's our cholecystectomy lady from Thursday who has a huge blood clot between her stomach and her bandage. Try but unable to find where the bleeding is coming from. So call the whole team up again. Thankfully, after a couple hours of playing with the drain, dr. Mcadam was certain opening her up again wasn't necessary. Still, it's 0530 am.i have to b back up at hospital by 0730 for ward rounds.

Manage to get home and collapse in bed, only to receive a phone call from maternity that there is a lady in with bleeding. That's fine, check for fetal heart rate, do a complete assessment on her, I'll b up in a bit to check her over myself. Note to self, check her first when I get up there.

As I suspected, she was a miscarriage. But she's stable, and I'm not worried. She's admitted and we'll scan her tomorrow. What I am worried about, is when the ambulance will b coming from kakon'a with the 14year old with a breech presentation. Seriously? 14 years old? Sad, but unfortunately, too true.

She arrives, along with a transverse presentation (thankfully not a 14 year old) from Zambezi. Midwife, JR, offers to take the care of these two patients. Sounds good to me. I was supposed to teach at Sunday school that afternoon anyway. On my way out from the hospital however, an ambulance arrives from Kabompo (about two hrs away) bringing a lady with acute abdomen. If I had done a thorough assessment meself instead of blindly believing what the Kabompo nurse told me I could have saved myself a whole lot of embarrassment. Still, the patient sure looked dreadfully sick.

Fever
Very tender abdomen
Distended
Lots of pain
No vomiting but not passing stool

I called the doctor and he agreed to come, despite having just sat down to lunch, since we could have her in the clinic room for a scan in seconds. He put the us probe on her belly, looked at it for a second, dropped it and walked away, throwing over his shoulder: "put a catheter in her"

As, I was setting up, I took a more detailed assessment and discovered she was five days post c section and hadn't passed urine. The change in her behaviour was almost instant as the catheter drained nearly a litre. Note to self. But a good story to laugh over and a great learning g experience!

Hoping for a quiet sunday night, but still, was called up again for bleeding, for our liver laceration. Dreadfully sorry, to disturb the doctor again! But not an emergency. Will resolve spontaneously. At least he didn't have to come up. And very glad. He's so sanguine.

So thrilled Monday afternoon to be able to catch up on sleep.

But really... Who needs sleep when there's a camp planning meeting! And I'm chairing it... Yikes! But very excited to be part of this opportunity to spend time with so e amazing Christians in the are planning, hopefully, for a great time a camp with the girls.


Sunday in church, it's been a little while since we've done the bus run due to lack of petrol. ,aye this is the third week.one of the ladies greets me and we start chatting... As much as we can since she speaks Lunda and I speak English. But one phrase I catch and suddenly it changes everything about this sunday morning.

"Naken'a kutiya mazu waNzambi" I wanted to hear the words of God. If she is willing, if she needs to walk, with her bent back and aching knees for 20mins (about 5 or6 for me) to hear the words of the Lord, here must be something in them that is powerful. Something in them that is convicting and binding. Some thing in them that is drawing. So yes, let me view them the same way. God' swords are drawing and binding. Life giving and life changing. More necessary to my living than food and water. How would it change my life if I viewed God's words the way this little old lady does.

There are so many of these little stories that make up my day to day here. I'm sorry I do t take the time to right them all down for you! These are a few that have happened over the last few weeks. I still count myself so privileged to be able to sit here with these people to learn from them and to share with them and hopefully for both of us to walk away changed, and with a deeper appreciation of the God who allowed us to walk together.