April

And the highlight of this month is always camp.

Loloma Junior Girls Camp at Kabompo River Bible Conference Centre.

Happens over the Easter weekend for about five days, up to 160 girls come from all over the Kabompo / Manyinga District, our goal is to share the Gospel- the Good News of Jesus Christ and of salvation from sin, and also to help teach them important topics about growing up. 

Most of the camp is sitting listening to speakers, but there are also several discussion groups/ quiet time and those times are such a great opportunity to get to know the girls and hear some of their struggles, hopefully answer some of their questions- whether about the Bible, about salvation and following Jesus Christ, or about STI's and other sexual health topics, or about life and the impact they are women can have on the people around them. Its a great opportunity to build relationships and to share Christ.

I had the privilege of working this camp alongside a camper I had the very first time I went to the Loloma camp. It was quite an opportunity to see this sweet (slightly precocious) girl share her faith with the younger girls we were sitting in with, and talk to them about life and what was important. It was really cool to see how the camps had touched her life and helped cause her to grow into a strong young christian woman.

One of my girls from Chito also came along with me and it was great to see her bonding with other young women who share her faith. And hopefully, these three young women will be in Kalene nurse school together this coming August- we are praying! What a great gift from God it will be of the three of them to study together and help keep each other in the way of God. Its not easy leaving the place where one has been most spiritually nourished. I am praying these three girls will be able to study together and encourage each other to keep the faith.

The highlight for me at camp tho is always the first day. Everyone is so excited, setting up the camp site, getting the tents ready and the cabins, registering the girls, everyone is busy with something. But as each truckload comes onto the site and counsellors pile out, the excitement grows. Shouts across the site. A flurry of yitengi when someone runs. Greetings. Warm hugs. Exclamations. "I have missed you." "how have you been?" "How is home?" "Its so good to see you." Excitement and laughter and joy and rejoicing!

Its hard to explain it all. But I kind of imagine that its a bit like heaven will be, when we all finally arrive there. All the dear ones who love the Lord who have gone on before will be waiting there, working their work, but waiting, waiting to greet the new arrivals, waiting to give warm hugs, to bring out that old joke, or the pet name, waiting to hear all the things that have happened, waiting to share what's happened with them. And there will be so much excitement and laughter and joy and rejoicing. Seeing friends after so long a time not seeing them.

The best part of heaven tho, will be the Lord will be there. At camp we know His presence is there with us, His Spirit that lives inside each of His children. But in Heaven He will actually be with us in body. What a day of rejoicing that will be!

Camp has always seemed like such a privilege to be a part of. And this little thought of how it might mirror that first day in heaven just makes it all the dearer.

Anyway, I'm back now to Chito. Big changes are in store here. Will get to those one day soon!

Katombi Chronicles

And I'm back!

The last three weeks were spent with a friend on her village about 4 hrs from my home in Chito. This village (Katombi) is just about my favourite place here in Zambia.

I went for language studies, as has been the focus of these trips in the past. There is a lovely couple here that I spend a couple hours 3-4 times a week just sitting and chatting. WOW! It still amazes me that we can find enough to talk about in my very broken Lunda to be able to chat for nearly two hrs!

There is a wee satellite clinic that my friend runs and while I was visiting this time she allowed me to see her patients every morning. Great langue opportunities! And again, I just amazed myself with how much of the language I actually do know- and not just Lunda, I can kinda make out some Luvale also; kinda helpful since nearly every one up here seems to know Luvale better than Lunda!


Its also a slower pace, which is a nice break from hospital! And a slightly different focus: more Gospel outreach and less medical work.

We had so much rain the few weeks I was there that we were basically flooded in for just over a week. So thankful there were no medical emergencies to rush to hospital!

We had several adventures with driving because the forest road was so bad. Stuck in a log bridge one day in the rain over a seasonal stream. 8 men and several onlookers and an hour later we managed to get unstuck and be able to reserve the car to use an ox cart trail they had just been working one.

Another day, using a diversion that had been made especially for the motorcar, and the diff got stuck, and i mean STUCK on a stump that hadn't been cut down low enough. Let me tell you about this amazing lady I was staying with: she decided, well, I need the car to be raised up higher than the stump, lets put the jack under it, raise it up off the stump and drive off the jack. She had never seen or heard of this being done before, but gave it a go. When we finally arrived Loloma we found out that was a perfectly reasonably thing to do.


Many, many other adventures and little experiences that I wish I had written down for you day by day and really given you the 'chronicles'.
I'm back now at Chito. And glad to be back. Well... except for the ortho marathon tmrw and friday and the plastics marathon next week! The fun never stops

What are you writing while you are waiting?

Waiting

We spend probably most of our lives doing it.

Waiting for the light to change

for the microwave to ding

for school to finish

for that special someone

for the kids to grow up

for the golden years

at the doctors office

at Emerg

at the doorbell

in the grocery line, the bank line, the cinema line

But what are we writing while we are waiting?

I've had waiting on my mind since the start of the year. Whether it was because the year started off so slowly, and in fact is still very slow, or because I was waiting to go visit a dear friend on her village about 4hrs from here, or because my next trip home is less than a year away now, I'm not sure. But waiting and thinking about waiting sure has taken up a lot of my time so far this year.

Over and over again, this question comes to me:

What am I writing while I am waiting?

Waiting to finish the Ward Round

Waiting to speak to the Doctor

Waiting for the surgery to end

Waiting to go back to work the next day

Waiting for the meeting to start

Waiting for the meat to defrost

for the oven to heat up

for there to be hot water for a shower

for the patient to come

for there to be power to my house

waiting waiting waiting

But what am I writing? 

Is it a story of grace? Of patience? Of a quiet spirit? Of joy in the Lord?

Am I seeking moment by moment for His will? Accepting it with joy when it comes?

Or am I anxious and fearful? Am I wasting my time in frivolous pursuits? Am I cross and unkind and impatient?

Too often this is the story I am writing

You see, we are writing a story. The story called: The Adventure Called My Life.

Each day is a new page. Each year is a new chapter. Each season is a new part in this book. 

There is a lot in our story that we don't get to choose, but I think there is even more that we do get to choose.

What is my attitude to the events I don't get to control?  That's a big choice right there!

What is my focus in the in between times- the times in between life's big events? Building character and growing in virtue or seeking amusement and empty pastimes 

Am I using my time wisely? Productive use of my time, use that will bring God glory, use that will be interesting and useful at a later date - studying, trying new things, building relationships, seeking God

God has given us this life, this story to write. How are we going to write it?

For the love of Christ


Does that get used as a cuss term? It sounds like one I've heard before. It amazes me that people use the holy name of our God as a dirty, worthless curse. But that's not the point of this post...



I was reminded by an article this morning:

Why is it that 'many missionaries have spent their lives labouring in spreading the Good news without seeing much tangible fruit? ... Others experience great suffering- even premature death- in the cause of Christ. What can justify [this]? The motivation of [Hudson Taylor is given by Paul]: the love of Christ is the only sufficient cause of such sacrifices. As 2 Corinthians 5:14,15 says: For the love of Christ constrains us; because we thus judge that if one died for all, then were all dead: and that He died for all, that they which live should not henceforth live unto themselves but unto Him which died for them, and rose again. ... This made Paul (and Hudson Taylor; and many other countless Christians) willing to sacrificially pour out his life in labour for God's people."


The love of Christ.

I'm not kidding myself, or trying to look good. I know I have not reached any where near the point of 'sacrificially pouring my life out'. That's hard. And it hurts! I'm not there ... yet....

But I can say... the mice in my pyjama drawer... the snake under my kitchen counter... the bowel obstructions at 2am... the interpersonal problems with living in the same vicinity of the same group of people for several years.... the cobwebs and ant hills that collect faster than I can clean them.... the multitude of people with a plethora of needs .... oh and did I mention the mice in my pyjama drawer!!!! All of these things pale in comparison with 'the love of Christ.'


If I could only tell Him as I know
my Redeemer who has brightened all my way
If I could only tell who precious is His presence
I am sure that you would make Him your today.


Because friends, this is the only thing that makes this life possible: love of Christ. And more than just love for Christ, the love that comes from Christ. I only love Him, because He first loved me, because He first sought me, searched for me, drew me to Himself. Because He was willing to sacrificially pour His life out - in the most beautiful picture of crazy love - in order to make a way to bring me back to Himself. Me, the sinner. Willful, prideful, disobedient, in a word: vile. He did it all for me.
And He didn't stop with just my salvation. He raised me up to sit in Heavenly places in Christ. My sin  stain is completely gone and He sees me in Christ - holy, perfect, new. When I sin, I need only ask forgiveness from a loving, tender Father. He daily loads me with blessings. He cares for me. He hears my supplication and receives my prayer. He is with me and will never leave me. He causes me to triumph.

Any wonder that I love Him so?

Weary, worn, hurting, broken, poured out, stripped of anything and everything the world sees as success and glory...

Brothers and Sisters in Christ, this is the motivation in our life. The reason we do what we do:

For the love of Christ

"What ever this day and this year holds, He has allowed it"


                 Reading back through old posts and came across that line. 2016 has been one of the craziest years I have had so far.

      February and March found me helping at Loloma MH as one of the missionaries there was sick and on her death bed. I stayed as long as I could, returning the end of March as the only permanent missionary nurse at Chitokoloki. She passed into the presence of her Lord in May

In May, another missionary also was called home. She had returned to Canada for furlough with her husband, was diagnosed with cancer and 6 months later was called Home. About the same time as our friend in Loloma

April, May and June found me focused almost entirely on hospital and managing things there along with our two doctors. And visiting nurse, Alison, wrapped up her two year stay the end of April. The end of June brought Kait and JR back to the hospital, along with visiting doctor Gayle Wallace.

June also brought a missionary from Chavuma MH to our hospital for a palliative procedure to help discomfort. The surgery went well, and the next day he seemed to be making a recovery. And then he crashed. And a couple hours later in theatre we watched him slip into the presence of His God and Father.

Shortly after that, our visiting doctor and one of our other missionaries had a head on collision on the motor bikes and both suffered from head injuries. Scary stuff! But we are so thankful that both have recovered and there seems to be no lasting effects.

August was camp, of course and also managed a trip out to Katombi. Was supposed to also include a village trip, but that was cancelled on the day I was travelling. So Mama Margie and I enjoyed a quiet few days in Kato instead of racing out for mtgs to the village.

The beginning of September brought another missionary to Chitokoloki. This one with a severe stroke. We cared for her for nearly two weeks before she too was called Home.

And in October, one of our staff members, having worked at the hospital for 16 years, was killed in a freak accident went a branch of a tree fell and smashed his skull. Unbelievable! And so terrible for the family; still with several small children. The saddest thing tho, there is no known confession of Christ as Saviour. Where is he spending his eternity?


And all this around our normal work routine, and marathons and regular expectations. No wonder I'm tired. But, like I said in that post from before is still true. He still gives more grace. It is still by His power that we have been able to keep working, keep serving, and even more difficult, keep joyful and rejoicing.

This year has started off a bit slower. The doctor has a problem with his feet and lower legs- he's not sure what, but as most doctors are, no one would know better than he. We are praying for him, for hims recovery. But we are also enjoying finishing work earlier, 14 to 16 instead of 18 to 20. We are grateful also that the usual stream of patients seems to have slowed just a bit to help us accomplish this. God is good.

Hopefully will be better this year with the updates. He still gives more grace.

To my Favourite

Today is your first day of Grade One.
I've been praying for you all day.

New school year
New classroom
New friends
New play ground for recess - You've graduated into the 'big kids' section of the school
And a new language- So proud of you for doing school in a second language. It will be good for you!



Today is the first day of term 3 for many kids here too! Although, the recognized first day was yesterday, many students didn't start until today.


The days leading up to the first day back to school aren't too different here than they are where you are. Gathering supplies: pens, pencils, notebooks, calculators, protractors, rubbers, etc. Getting uniforms sorted: shoes, trousers, shirts, sweaters- all in the school colours of light blue and black. You don't have a uniform but you know about getting new outfits for school. Some kids will be excited, others dreading. Some kids will have the supplies they need, others will not.

There aren't any shops around here tho. Certainly not any Wal-Marts touting 'back to school' sales on backpacks and pencils and pens and crayons and paper and notepads and miscellaneous supplies and clothes and recess treats and tupperware and toys and whatever other sales they might happen to have around this time. Instead, many kids just make do. Or they might find a couple notebooks up at the market. Some parents will go into Zambezi to get some of the supplies they need. And ALL of the kids know how to share. No matter how many kids use the same pen, they all know who it belongs to.

I've had a few visits myself this past week from some of my young school age friends asking for supplies and, thanks to a teacher friend from Toronto, I've been able to give freely.

I don't want to make it sound overboard here. The students here will mostly have all the supplies they need. I do want you to understand my dear, how different and yet how similar it is here. People are people wherever you go; all with the same needs and wants and desires and hopes and dreams. Don't ever forget that! We may look different and we may have different backgrounds and experiences and aspirations in life, but at the core of every human beats the same heart.



I thought of you this evening when three adorable boys showed up at my door with their 'father' ... in our culture he was an uncle, the younger brother to their father. Chilemu was 10, Luka 6, and the baby, Philip, was 2. They wanted to buy new clothes. Their currency: a live chicken.


I wanted to thank you for the clothes you let your mom send in the last container. A shirt and trousers of yours - even tho they said 4T, were a perfect fit for Luka. And shorts and a tee- shirt from your younger brother provided an outfit for wee Philip. I had two shirts from a container box, a bit big, but, as uncle pointed out, Chilemu is growing. I had to smile at that, how often has your mother picked out clothes for you and your brother on the assumption that you would 'grow into it.'

You sent a box full of matchbox trucks and cars. Well... maybe you didn't realize they were being sent... ??? This is one BIG difference that I can write about freely, without fearing that I am being judgmental or uninformed. Most kids here- the majority of kids here- do not have a 'toy' to play with. The average girl in this area where I am living have no dolls as we know them- they play with babies or make dolls from roots, or sugar cane stalks or corn husks. The average boy will have no motorcars unless, somehow he gets his hands on an empty and unclaimed jug and then he or an older brother or uncle or father will cut holes and use sticks for the axle, and rounded pieces of wood for the wheels and that will be his motorcar attached to a long stick that he can use to push this motorcar along as he walks.

The kids here are genius a 'using their imagination'. Sticks and stones make great toys. Plastic bags and rubber bands make footballs. Trees are for climbing- as high as one can go!

Very different from the plethora of dolls my sisters and I had growing up and the mountains of motorcars that you and your brother have!

Many days in hospital, children or parents will come asking for a kadolly or a motorcar, or 'chuma chahemesha': a thing to play with. Sometimes we are able to give. Sometimes we are not. For many different reasons...

But I wanted to thank you for sharing your toys. I wanted to remind you that God loves a cheerful giver. I wanted to tell you that the toys you shared are finding their ways to homes of little boys and girls who are thrilled to have them.

The wee boys at my door this evening were glad of the new clothes. But all three lit up when they saw the toy trucks. And on my part, its nice to be able to give something that is not necessary to doing life, but is a very real 'want' around here.



I hope you have had a great day at school. I hope the new language isn't too difficult. I hope you find your friends again and make new ones. I hope the toys in your class room and the arts and crafts projects are all fun. I hope today and every day you are reminded of the blessings God is pouring out on us. On you! He daily loads us with blessings! Even you, at your wee age He is loading with blessings! Thanks very much for sharing some of His blessings with us here!

love you lots!
Aunt Tia



ps... any ideas of what to do with this chicken locked in my porch????

Grace enough

The alarm rings snatching me from sleep. All I can think about is the haze of exhaustion that envelopes me. By the time the third alarm sounds 45 mins later I have wakened sufficiently to push back the covers, and stumble out of bed. Another broken night of calls up to the hospital stretches my reserve just a little bit thinner.

At the door I stop for a quick check- phone, keys, pen, notebook, water, granola bar. The alarm rings again. 705. My feet carry me up to hospital mindlessly.

My day starts in the kitchen: point of contact.

In proverbs of says of the ideal woman: the heart of her husband trusts her. Well, I think it can also read, the heart of her overseer safely trusts her.

That's Lucy. Lucy runs the hospital feeding program. Lucy is trustworthy. Together we sort out breakfast for the patients, relish for the noon nshima, what children are needing milk, who is coming for a daily egg, daily supplies to run the kitchen: oil, matches, charcoal, washing powder, washing soap... I know what I put out she will use for the patients. I know she will gather the moms of our malnourished kids around her and teach them what and when and how to feed their sick babies. I know because of her diligence we will see miracles.

And I remember why I am here. To be part of making a difference in lives here in rural Africa. 

After kitchen is ward rounds. As a team we go around to each patient in the hospital and  review their case and their current condition. Are we helping? Have we missed something? Some days it's long, some days I struggle to keep on task instead thinking and planning all the things I could and should be doing: language lessons, Bible study, visiting this one and that one, cleaning the termite hills that keep popping up around my house, even just washing the dishes...

But an interesting case story often brings me back to reality. 

You see this child: two months ago she was on her death bed. Stick thin and so weak with a swollen bloated abdomen. Barely able to draw a breath. Mom spoon fed her milk mixed with her medicine while we struggled to keep a functioning cannula dripping fluid into her tiny dried out veins. Today she wanders out of the kids' ward with her chubby little sisters to greet me in the corridor. Still stick thin, still huge belly. But, still alive. A huge smile rests on her face. I can't believe she is still here! And, after two months of being away, I can't believe she still remembers me!

You see this lady: because of a tumour her jaw extended to her chest. It was most pitiful to see her. Chitengi draped over her head, her arm lifted to use the chitengi as a shield to hide her deformed face and her shame. Kukata. It hurts. We started chemotherapy just before I left. Two months later, I've sat down to give her round number four of chemo. The face I smile into today is as beautiful as it was deformed nearly three months ago. I can't hardly remember what she looked like before I left. Now she is simply lovely!

You see this man: he died four months ago but he's still here today. He came to Chitokoloki a few months after I first did. 22 years old, he was in a road traffic accident and fractured his T12L4, effectively paralyzing him from the waist down. He's lived with us ever since. Surgery for an abscess in the abdomen nearly finished him off. When we reversed him after the procedure, he didn't wake up. We arranged shifts to watch him over night in theatre, keeping him on the ventilator to breathe for him. Twelve hours later we managed to extubate him and shortly after that he was awake enough to be chatting with his family

You see this baby: her mom died and her father's sister, nursing a five month old child of her own, took on the care and feeding of this fragile premature half orphaned child. How much excitement there was the day baby girl Gracious finally weighed in at 2.0 kg and auntie turned mummy could take her two babies home.

We are seeing miracles here. 

But you see this woman: through all of this she is being changed. I think this is the biggest miracle of all. Our Father, in his loving grace, reaches down not only to heal the sick but to change the heart. My heart. Your heart. 

This isn't about me. This is about Him. This is about His grace. This is about simply being a channel to let that grace flow to the hurting, the needy, the destitute, the outcast. In short: us. 

We need His grace. I need it as much as the patients whose broken bodies I tend. My body may be whole at this time, but my broken soul is in desperate and constant need of His forgiving grace. 

This is the greatest miracle of all: that my sin can be forgiven; my brokenness can be made whole; my selfishness and self centredness can be made unselfish and God centred. That God can be willing to use me to channel His grace to a hurting broken world.

It's evening now, the rain patters the tin roof, the thunder rumbles, sometimes crashes overhead. I am exhausted from the events of the day. The sick, the children and the grandparents, the needs and the requests, the constant interaction with people. I'm praying the phone doesn't ring tonight needing a team for an emergency surgery. But knowing if it does, or if I wake to the alarm tomorro morning: His grace, the same grace I'm learning to channel out to the people around, that grace is still the same and its still enough.

My grace is sufficient for you. My strength is made perfect in your weakness

I'm back

I'm back


Back in the chitengi
Back in the hotness
Back into the Lunda


Just back


And it's good.
Sure, I was anxious about going. Chatting with some of the more experienced folks here, I see it doesn't really get easier. I'll just get more experienced at how to handle the anxiety and the grief and the displacement.
 I'm glad to be back here now.
Glad to see so many people that have become dear to me- fellow missionaries, and Zambians alike. So many dear, dear people.

But being back here reminds me of all the dear ones I left at home.

I am so blessed to know so many amazing and genuinely sweet people!


But from a random place today came words of encouragement (and it was random! It can't get more random than FB quiz eh?!?)

Have I know commanded you? 

Be strong and courageous. 

Do not be afraid, do not be discouraged, 

for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.

Joshua 1:9

This was my verse that I came out here on.

Sure it's a fluke. But at the same time, it's also a real reminder: I'm here because of God. I don't need to be afraid- afraid of people, of situations, of not accomplishing what God wants me to do. And I don't need to be discourage; because friends, discouragement here is a real thing. Maybe no more real than at home, but it is for me. So many limitations, so many failures, so many areas to reach out into and no way to get to them


But I was learning today:

"Take, as from my Father's hand"


Everything comes from my Father.
Sorrow and suffering
Difficult situations and people
Blessing and abundance
Peace and joy

So whatever my day and this year holds, He has allowed it.

I will trust Him
I will rejoice
I will be strong and courageous
I will not be afraid or discouraged
I know HE is with me ..... And that makes all the difference




And so, I'm back

Have been cleaning the house after finding ant hills in three different places
Sorting out the aftermath of a mouse who took up (I hope) termporary residence
Sorting out some food parcels that came
And mostly just settling back into life here

Glad I haven't forgotten too much of my Lunda
Hoping to find some help with language studies

And looking forward to going back to hospital on Wednesday

Redemption Ground

There was a time I thought divorce was not an option for Christians.

Then, as I looked at my parents marriage crumble, I realized divorce was the only option for a situation that had become toxic.

Then I thought, but after divorce comes singleness and God Himself will be there. And He was. But I saw how lonely my mom was. She filled her time, no, she redeemed her time. She brought it to God and used it for Him.

Now, today, I'm standing beside my mom at an event I never thought would happen. For the last ten years I've prayed, Lord if it's your will let her marry, but if not, I know you will be to her what she needs...

And then my brother died.

You see, as the first born, it's always weighed on me that I am responsible to care for the family. Maybe I presume too much...??

When my brother died, I thought: "at least she had a companion, now she is alone." But my sister reminded she was there and I left.

And then I started hearing about Steve. And soon they were a 'thing' and then they were engaged and now they are married (or just about 😜)

And through this journey, I've learned two lessons. Or rather, I've had to relearn two lessons that I ought to have learned years ago.

The first, God doesn't need me!

What a relief! I am not responsible to run the world. I am not responsible to make sure every T gets crossed and every I dotted. I am not responsible to see to the needs of the people around me. God may use me. But that's His choice, not my responsibility.

What freedom is this!

When I worried about a best friend being left on her own, God brought an unlikely suitor, and they are perfectly matched

When I worried about a Sunday school with no teacher or a teen night with no facilitator, in His own time, God brought people along to fill those needs- and to fill the, better than I ever could have! - Isn't He so wonderful!!

When I worried about my mom being left alone by herself, God brought a man along who sees in her all the things and more that I have come to appreciate.

So, who am I to think that God needs me in a particular location to do a particular job. God, forgive my pride!

The second lesson, has nothing to do with me and everything to do with my Father. Can I just tell you again how amazing He is.

He is in the business of redemption.

He offers to the sinner, redemption through His blood, even the forgiveness of sins. And to the born again believer, that is the very start of life. That is the crux of this life. That is everything. Christ died for me the sinner. And in believing this, not just my soul but my very existence is redeemed.

My existence is redeemed.

He continually comes behind me and redeems me. He continually takes my choices and makes them beautiful. (Even the choices that I make willfully for my interests, even these He can redeem if I let Him.) He continually teaches me how to be more like Him and thereby makes me more myself, releasing me from the passions of the flesh and the besetting sins. He redeems not just my soul, but my very life. Everything that I am and do is now seen through the light of God's grace, it is redeemed from empty, meaningless activity to purposeful acts of service in obedience to my Lord and Saviour.

I am witness today, my Father took a painful, broken mess and redeemed it and made it beautiful. Because the beauty in the act of two lives promising to love each other through good and bad and through all the mess of life is really just a picture of how Christ loves His chosen ones, His bride.

I'm standing here today to watch my mom and Steve get married, but really what I see is how Christ has entered into my brokenness and made it beautiful, how He has forgiven all my sins and redeemed me and then promised that for all of eternity He would love me and care for me. And really, it doesn't get much better than that!

And of His fullness we have all received, grace upon grace

Grace upon grace

abounding, overflowing, running over

So much that we come away from the fountain dripping with grace, 

perfumed with grace

the empty cisterns of our heart filled and running over

the dry and barren land soaked in a deluge of grace

More than enough

I know the dryness, the barrenness, the emptiness. I know it too well.

Too often I exchange the fullness of God and His grace for the emptiness of my self.

Too often I seek first the things of self instead of the things of God and His righteousness.

But this verse reminds us that God is full. Of His fullness: out of His fullness, out of His sufficiency, out of His 'enough' He pours out on us grace.

Grace enough

My grace is enough for you.

it reminds me of one of my favourite verses in Psalms

"Oh, how abundant is your goodness, which you have stored up for those who fear you!"

Its like the writer couldn't contain himself as he began to express all the marvellous things his God had poured out on him.

How abundant. How full.

of His fullness we have all received grace upon grace

blessing upon blessing

we have times of barrenness

He does not

But even in our barrenness

His blessing abounds

more and more

will we come away from His fountain then dripping with grace? We need it this year. I need it this year. That constant reminder that His 'enough' is enough for me. His strength, not mine. His interests first, not mine. Him first, not me.

and even over the times of barrenness and drought I can still look back and say Christ is here. I saw His grace here. Not because of me, because of Him.

Happy New Year

and God's richest blessings to each of you

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.

Something to Smile About

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

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

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.

 

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.