Hope Full

It is that time of year.  The time of year when trees and lights go up, stockings hang waiting to be filled and children eagerly await a visit from Santa.  It is the time of year for celebrating with the ones we love and filling our bellies with way too much food.  This time of year is beautiful. It is a time where we are reminded to slow down and be thankful for what we have and the people we are walking through life with; however, for most of us, slowing down is the last thing we do at Christmas time.  Instead we get held hostage by our to-do lists and the posts of all the amazing things other people are doing for their family remind us how we are falling short.  How do they have time to be so creative with their Elf on a Shelf?  He roasts tiny marshmallows over a candle flame, really?!  I am lucky if I remember to move Buddy to a different tree limb or bookshelf right about the time I am about to drift off to sleep.  I don't think people who do silly things with their elves are bad people.  It's just one more thing I measure myself against.  Another area I find myself falling short.  Will Jack somehow grow up to be less successful because his Elf wasn't as sneaky or creative?  I doubt it.  It is stupid really to even care about this, but my point is it is just one of the many things that distracts me this time of year from what I should really be focused on.

We are in the season of Advent.  A time of expectation, anticipation and hope.  We have hope because God is faithful and fulfills His promises to us.  Hope that our Savior, who was born in a manger among the animals, who now sits at the right hand of God the Father, hears our prayers and calls us to lean into Him, be still and have faith.  The problem for me is the reality of this time of year leaves me lacking in the hope department.  Those moments where I am using all four limbs in vain, attempting to straighten, tighten and balance a six foot tree without it crashing to the ground, do not leave me feeling hopeful.  Instead I feel lonely and wonder if I will ever have a partner again.  I also wonder will I ever go into this time of year not stressing about money.  Money or the lack of is another stealer of joy during this season.  This year in particular, I am straddling the fence about what to do about our house and our living situation.  The anxiety it is causing me some days makes me want to just skip Christmas and try again in March.  I don't want to be thinking about these things today.  I want to be baking cookies with my son, blasting Christmas tunes, watching the Polar Express and riding the Pink Pig and be completely present and not distracted by the joy stealers in my life.  I want to be alive with the hope of what Jesus's birth means for me.  I want to be moved by the promise of what God has in store for me and for my son.

So, despite of the blaring reminders of what is lacking in our lives, how do we come alive with hope?  How do we go from hopeless to hopeful?  How do we erase from our minds all of the areas we are falling short and instead celebrate our victories and our lives exactly where they are?  We lean in.  We continue to believe this is not it.  There is more.

I have a good friend who recently suffered from a life changing accident.  It has left him at the mercy of other people.  He has to depend on everyone else to do pretty much anything and for someone as independent, strong-willed and maybe a little stubborn as he is, that is not easy.   Hopelessness is creeping into his life where inspiration and adventure once lived.  How does one recover from that place and prevent the dangerous and slippery slide into depression?  We lean in.  We continue to believe this is not it.  There is more.

We have all experienced things that have changed our lives, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse.  We have all been in that place where we question what our purpose is or what the point is in fighting the fight anymore.  We think what we are is not enough.  He was enough though.  Born in a manger, to a virgin mother and wrapped in swaddling clothes He went on to become the King, the Lamb of God sent to save us.  We are enough no matter where we are.  No matter if we remember to move our Elf on the Shelf or whether we have to call a friend to help us put on our shoes.  No matter how extravagant or seemingly inadequate our gifts are, we are enough.

So, during this season of Advent I am going lean in and be hopeful.  I will continue to believe in His promises and not be distracted by what I cannot control.  I will not weigh myself against everyone else and beat myself up for what I can't accomplish.  I will pray for strength to remember this is not it.  There is MORE.

Beloved

Have you ever had one of those weeks where you feel it might be safer to just lock yourself into a room, so you don't have to worry about anything else bad happening?  This week was one of those weeks.  After returning from an amazing trip to Africa and feeling high on God's gifts and spiritually and emotionally refreshed, I was brought to my knees by life's sometimes harsh reality.

It is hard for me to openly express my struggles when I work in a place where people are suffering and parents are losing battles with protecting their children.  I am constantly reminded it could always be worse, in fact this week was one of those weeks.  I spent 4 long 12 hour shifts fighting for healing, and in the midst of that chaos I was struggle to keep my own head above the water.

It has been a week full of disappointment, anxiety and sadness.  I am sitting in the midst of the unknown and it sucks.  No that isn't a very eloquent word, but it's all I've got and it describes this place I am in pretty well.  I am faced with some pretty big decisions about the future and honestly I am not in the mood to make them right now.  The last few weeks I had finally made some difficult choices which allowed me to take back some control in my life, to find balance.  And just as soon as I started breathing normally again, I was met with a swift kick to the gut.  Can somebody bring me some oxygen?

One of my friends at work told me about a blog/devotional called She Reads Truth.  I opened it up today and found a post about Naomi from the book of Ruth.  It talks about what an awful place Naomi was in and how she was having a hard time seeing past her tragedy and current circumstance. Her soul was weary.  She was tired.  It says this:

 Ruth 1:19-21

19 So the two of them went on until they came to Bethlehem. And when they came to Bethlehem, the whole town was stirred because of them. And the women said, “Is this Naomi?” 20 She said to them, “Do not call me Naomi; call me Mara, for the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me. 21 I went away full, and the Lord has brought me back empty. Why call me Naomi, when the Lord has testified against me and the Almighty has brought calamity upon me?”

That is exactly how I feel this week.  I went away (from Africa) full and now I am empty.  I am fighting anger, resentment, bitterness, heart breaking sadness, self worth and rejection.  All of those feelings are sucking the life out of me and leaving me empty.  

The post on She Reads Truth goes on to say how God names us blessed, beloved and redeemed and those names remain true even when our circumstances don't.  The author reminded me that God is in control of my past, my present and my future and has a plan for me, His plan.  He is just as mighty in my sorrow and affliction as he is in my celebration and successfulness.  She writes "circumstances change, but they do not change our God."  It was a beautiful reminder to me today to be still and know He is present.  That in this time of feeling lonely and rejected and questioning again whether or not I am enough.  I am enough.  I am His.  He named me beloved and that I shall always be.

While I was in Africa, on one of the nights I was feeling confronted with my self worth, I came across a devotional in our trip guide.  It was about the word beloved.  It said beloved is a word God has given to "each of us as we journey through this life-this life where we are often tempted to believe we have no value."  That if we could truly believe this idea it would change everything about us and we would be free.  We are totally loved and accepted by the God who created us, irregardless of life's current circumstance, no matter how messy, ugly or broken they are.  Beloved is a word that offers hope and identity.  A word that anchors us to the Almighty and promises us we are loved.  

So today, in the midst of the unknown, feeling broken and anxious I will cling on to the name He has given me and find comfort in the stillness, resting in His love for me.  I will continue to work on that being enough for me.  It is a daily battle, but one I know is worth fighting.  

Enough

Tuesday October 21st & Wednesday October 22nd-

Tuesday and Wednesday were amazing and hard.  We split up into groups both of those days to allow some of the team members to work in the clinic and others to visit schools or do home visits.  I was lucky enough to be able to go to the schools both days.  Rob, our trip leader, knew how much being with those kids meant to me and gave up his spot on Wednesday just so I could go again.  I am a pediatric nurse.  It is part of how I define myself and my worth.  Worthiness came up so much on this trip and weighed heavy on my heart these two days.  You see, during our meetings to prepare for this trip we talked a lot about things we would do, patients we would help and what skills people had etc. I felt a little under-prepared to serve the adult population we would encounter mainly because I haven't cared for an actual adult since nursing school.   We were assured numerous times during our meetings that specialty area didn't really matter.  Anyone could do any of the jobs.  In fact, the three doctors going were all specialized.  A neonatologist, a pediatrician and a perinatologist and all three would see patients from all walks of life and they were dang good at it I might add.  We also had non medical people on the team and they would also be able to help clinically and were, of course, amazing.  Despite Rob's best efforts to ensure me I would have a lot to offer the team, I worried.  So, when Rob told us we would be going into the schools to listen to all of the kids hearts and lungs I was ecstatic.  I could do that I offered and I would be good at it.

The first school visit on Tuesday was a whirlwind.  We were pressed for time, but even still, we screened 268 kids in 2 hours.  At each classroom we listened to each kids heart and lungs and screened their heads for ringworm.  They pretty much all had ringworm, but only the worse cases got medicine for it.  While we were screening the kids another group started preparing the meds.  We had the easy job.  These guys were busting their butts trying to rapidly prepare and disseminate medicine for all of the kids in each class.  It was mass chaos.  Each child and their teacher got a multi vitamin.  All of the kids got de-worming medicine and most of them got a weeks worth of antifungal for the ringworm.  They also had to educate each teacher on how to give the medicines, because it would be their responsibility.  We made it through 7 classes before we ran out of time.  We were able to screen all 8 classes, but we weren't able to finish handing out all of the medications.  We had to get back to the clinic to pick up the rest of the team and we couldn't be late.  We did not want to leave and Abraham, our 410 Kenya guide, nearly had to drag us out of there.  It was a terrible feeling not being able to pass out the meds for all of the kids.  We just needed a few more minutes, but we couldn't have them.  It felt so unfair and like we had let down the kids.  The feelings I was having were similar to the ones I had on Monday when we told that Mom there was nothing for us to offer her baby.  It just wasn't fair.  Several of us really struggled to focus on what we had accomplished and not be upset about what was left undone.  Dr Wendy assured us, once again, it wasn't about the medicine really, it was about the relationships and the connections.  It is so hard as a clinician to let go of "fixing" everything and I really struggled with that throughout this trip.  So much so at times I think I might have missed out a little.  I think God was trying to get me to slow down and connect.  To take in the beauty of what was happening around me.  To humble myself.  To accept that I am enough, not because I am a good nurse or because someone affirms me for doing a job well, but just because I am His.  On this day when I was really struggling I finally just went outside to take in the beauty around me and pull myself back together. When I did this I was quickly greeted by a gaggle of Ngaamban children whose smiles reminded me of why we were there.  I spent the rest of that day in the dirt surrounded by these precious children, painting faces, singing, taking pictures and being silly.  These kids didn't care what my qualifications were or what I had accomplished, they just wanted to connect. So I gave in and let go.  In those moments none of the other stuff mattered.  I stopped being so hard on myself and just enjoyed loving on these amazing kids.  It was one of my favorite parts of the trip and it had nothing to do with medicine, fancy that.

Our second school visit on Wednesday went a little more smoothly than Tuesday because we came up with a more efficient system for getting the medicine passed out.  This school, named Tzebini, was in a more remote part of Ngammba.  We had to hike through a dried out riverbed to get to it.  We saw some pretty amazing landscape and I can even say now I climbed in Africa.  In the rainy season this river bed floods making passage to and from school treacherous.  It was pretty humbling as well to see women carrying water and everything else their family might need over this terrain.  At this school I met a little boy named Jackson who decided with me we should have a dance party outside.  This made my day.  He reminded me of my Jackson with his feisty attitude and abundance of energy and joy.  I have a great video of him dancing and it has quickly become my Jack's favorite of the trip. For my CICU friends reading I did hear a murmur on a girl that appeared to be benign and found a kid with a fast heart rate.  We ended up asking her to come to the clinic the following day so we could follow up.  Her heart rate was still high when she came to the clinic, so she will be referred for follow up with The 410 Bridges' help.  That definitely felt good.

It was hard to believe as Wednesday came to a close our time at the clinic was done.  It really felt like we had just started.  At the end of our clinic day the Ngaambans held a closing ceremony of sorts in our honor.  Just like the day we arrived they expressed their gratitude for our service and time.  The highlight of that time for my teammates was when one of the councilman saw me crying and stopped his speech to say "don't cry little one."  He pulled me into the center of the circle and held me tight, very tight.  He held my head in his hands and comforted me, assuring me we would meet again.  Despite the awkwardness of the closeness to his armpit and his tight grip, it was pretty awesome.  My teammates all stood by snapping pictures of it as it went down.  The situation brought a lot of laughter over our remaining days to my team....at my expense.  In fact, one of them told the guy I was their gift to him as a joke and then seeing my distress Dr Tim told him, no really you have to give her back.  I was thankful for the laughter.  It was even more funny, because the guy had introduced himself using his Ngaamban name which meant "big guy" essentially and I was kanini.  We made the perfect pair.

I know I probably keep saying this, but this experience was such a gift.  I learned so much and can't wait to do it all over again.  I know I will use what I learned on this trip to help me become more connected next time, to put the relationships as the priority and not worry so much on what we can fix or can't fix.  While the issues surrounding worthiness were painful to experience and left me feeling raw, I am grateful God opened my eyes and did so in a place where I was surrounded by people who loved me and was reminded of His presence every where I looked.

Being loved on by the kids

Using my other talents

Add caption

One of my favorite pictures from the trip

School visits

Working hard

Dr Wendy

Boys being boys

Dance Party

More of our dance party

Jackson front and center

The road to Tzebini

Dried up river bed

One of the many amazing African sunsets.  God's reminder to me of his presence and power.

Distracting the patient

Triage

Kubwa and Kanini

Our amazing team on our last day at the clinic

Kanini

Sunday October 19th-

Sunday would prove to be another amazing day in Ngaamba.  We would not hold clinic, instead, we would go with the locals to church and then spend the day enjoying the community and it's people.  We split into three groups and visited three separate churches.  I went to the Salvation Army Church.  To say that the Ngaamban people know how to worship is an understatement.  Think Buckhead Church, minus the strobe lights and special effects and add in some dancing in the aisles.  It was a pretty cool experience to witness.  The children were more into the worship than most of the adults, which says a lot about what they are being taught about loving God.  Once again they spent a lot of time thanking us and God for bringing us to them.  The most special part was when we got to all go up to the front and introduce ourselves.  It was our turn to tell these amazing people that they were in fact a gift to us and we were really the lucky ones.  Myself and one of my teammates Laura even got up and joined in the dancing at one point.  Unfortunately, there is video of this.  Let's just say I need to brush up on my Ngaamban line dancing skills.  After church we gathered the team back together and headed to the clinic to spend the day in fellowship with the community.  Mostly this meant we played.  A lot.  We painted nails, kicked soccer balls, jumped rope, colored, blew bubbles and even taught a group how to play baseball.  It was pretty awesome.  Most of the Kenyans who had never swung a bat before, quickly became better than most of us Americans.  It was hilarious to watch them after they hit the ball.  They ran crazy fast around the bases and even if you got them out, they stayed on base and kept right on playing.  I admired their dedication to making it back to home plate.  This time was also important not just for connecting with the people of Ngaamba, but also a time for our team to connect and build our relationships.  I cannot say enough how amazing this team was.  More on that later....after a full day in the HOT African sun, we piled back onto our bus with our awesome driver Paul and headed back to the Miryam Inn for a much needed shower.  Monday was going to be another busy day for us.  We had a full day in the clinic and Sarah and I were going to be headed to Ngaamba primary school to speak with the Class 7/8 girls.  Oh, I almost forgot the highlight of my day.  The children gave some of us Ngaamban names, mine was Kanini.  It means "little one".  That became my name for the remainder of the trip, well that and panini.  What was I saying about how awesome my team was??  I can't remember....

Monday October 20th-

A month or so before our trip our leader Rob asked for volunteers who would be willing to go and speak to the Class 7/8 girls.  This is the equivalent of 7th and 8th grade.  This is an especially important year for all Ngaamban children because in Class 8 they take a test which determines whether or not they will go on to secondary school.  Secondary school is like highschool, but not everyone has the opportunity to go.  The children must obtain a certain score on the test in order to move up.  If they don't score high enough on the test their future becomes less promising.  This is especially true for the girls.  Not making it into secondary school almost guarantees marriage at a young age, followed quickly by pregnancy.  As soon as Rob asked for volunteers I knew I wanted to do it.  I wasn't sure what I would say to these girls, but it felt heavy on my heart, because I knew how hard it was to make the right decisions in high school and how important it was to believe there was something more.  Some of the topics on the table for discussion were menstrual cycles, abstinence and future careers.  While I was pretty confident about sharing my career experiences, I felt a little nervous talking about periods, but I wouldn't be alone.  My new friend Sarah stepped up to challenge with me.  Sarah's presence on this team was a gift from God.  Sarah, like me, is a single Mom and a nurse.  To say we hit it off is an understatement.  It was a blessing to have someone who shared the same fears about this trip and was taking similar risks.  So I was comforted knowing Sarah would be coming with me to see the girls.  We did absolutely zero preparation, save for prayer, and for those of you who know me and how I like to be in control, this was TOTALLY out of my comfort zone.  At one point one of my teammates joked about me preparing a power point.  It's amazing how quickly you get to know people when you travel across the world together.  Also, of note, had there been electricity I might just have brought a power point...

When we arrived at the school we met up with three women who worked for the 410 Bridge in Kenya, Lucy, Kate and Petranilla.   These 3 women amazed me from the moment I met them and put me at ease.  We had an amazing time sharing with the Class 7/8 girls.  We talked about our jobs, what their career aspirations were, how our bodies change and boys.  They girls were so shy at first.  When we asked them if they had questions for us they just looked at their hands.  If one of them looked like they had a question and we approached them, they all giggled and whispered in each others ears.  We finally got a few of them to speak up, but it wasn't easy.  One of them asked us what to do if a boy had already approached them, in particular, this boy had told this sweet girl how he thought about her all night long while he slept.  Kate responded quickly "if he is sleeping he isn't thinking and if he tells you he can't eat either, he is lying.  He would die".  We all got a giggle out of that.  I then told them if a boy told them he couldn't live without you, they should tell him to "rest in peace".  The girls loved that.  I have a video of them screaming it!  On a more serious note we had to talk to the girls about rape.  This just broke my heart.  This is their reality.  It happens all the time.  They are vulnerable and naive and men promise them safety, material things and a life outside of Ngaamba.  Kate even shared men are coming over from the Middle East and promising the girls grand things, only to later sell them into sex slaves.  It made me so angry to think about this.  Not only are these girls in danger by the men who walk beside them in the village, men are traveling from afar to their remote village only to steal away their innocence.  I just wanted to cry.  So, we spent some time talking to them about how to protect themselves and stay safe.  Sarah even taught them a song and dance about their "no-no" square.  I have a video of that as well.  It is priceless and the girls ate it up.

Life is hard for these girls.  Something as insignificant to us as our periods can alter the course of their futures.  With little to no access to sanitary pads, the girls have to stay home and miss school during their menstrual cycle.  This affects their performance and decreases their chances for successfully making it to secondary school.  The 410 Bridge does have a program in place that provides sanitary napkins, but many of the girls feel embarrassed and scared by the changes in their bodies, so they stay home anyway.  Just another example of something we take for granted and a reminder of how some of our worries seem so insignificant.  The 410 Bridge ladies told us their parents don't spend a lot of time talking to them about their bodies or talking to them about growing up period, so our time with them, however insignificant it might have felt to us, was very impactful.  I might not ever know if anything I said made a difference to those girls, but I have to trust in my heart it did.

To finish up this post I wanted to share some of my journal from the night after I spoke with the girls.  I was pretty overwhelmed Monday night with a blob of emotions and I am sure I cried at the debriefing, yet again.  It was so much to process and I didn't really know where to begin, so I just started writing.  This is what I wrote and I apologize if it seems choppy:

 This place is beautiful in every way.  The people, mountains, animals, stonework and all its simplicity.  No frills.  Your senses are not overwhelmed and you can just take it all in.  Talking to the girls today was a gift, although sometimes I was laughing on the inside at how I was talking to them about loving and accepting themselves as God loves and accepts them.  Maybe I should send myself that same message.  When the girls asked the silly questions about the boys I laughed.  Even halfway across the world, the boys are just the same.  Their innocence was refreshing and it made me sad for our girls at home.  The things our children are exposed to that steals their innocence away...it made me sad when Lucy talked to the girls about their beauty and how even though their parents didn't tell them they were beautiful, they were and it wasn't because their parents didn't love them.  How much harder would life have been for me if I didn't have a mother who assured me what was normal and what was not and how lucky was I that I was able to first hear I was beautiful from my parents and not some boy who wanted to steal away my innocence.  

Church

 

A little fun before church with Dr Dan and the boys

Dancing 

Girl time

Ngaamba Primary School

Our Girls

Strong girls

Swing batter.  Abraham the pitcher.

Putting It Into Words

Where to even begin.  I am finding it really hard to put this experience into words.  It seems so surreal.  I went to Africa.  I took a risk and it paid off big.  I know it will take me a while to fully process everything that happened, but I need to start writing things down before the chaos of  life starts to steal my memories away.  I figure everyone has been patiently waiting for a recap of what we did, so I will start there.  I will do it in a couple of posts.

Thursday October 16th-
My Mom and Jack took me to the airport where my team was gathering to board a plane for our long journey to Nairobi.  We would take two flights, one to Amsterdam and then one to Nairobi.  I knew they would be long and I was really anxious about not being able to sleep.  Unfortunately, my fears came true and the flight to Amsterdam was pure hell.  After settling in and eating dinner most of the team had a nice dessert of Ambien.  I am not exactly sure what happened, because I have taken Ambien before, but soon after taking it I got dizzy, the flight got turbulent and over the next 8 hours I christened every bathroom on that Airbus.  I literally threw up all the way across the Atlantic.  I was a mess.  I in fact felt so poorly I had decided I would just get a hotel room in Amsterdam and come home, because there was no way I could face getting on another plane for 8 more hours.  Thankfully, once we landed in Amsterdam my team helped me rally and God intervened.  When we boarded our KLM flight to Nairobi, I was in the front row, with two empty seats next to me.  I swallowed some dramamine and life began to flow back into my body.  I stared out my window at the beautiful sky and remembered His plan and my confidence returned, as well as my ability to keep down food :) At one point during that flight I walked around to see some of my teammates and Sarah commented "she is back."  I'm sure I looked 100 times better.  We landed in Nairobi late Friday night and after successfully collecting 23 people's belongings and all the team's medical supplies, praise Jesus, we loaded a bus for a short nights stay in a Nairobi hotel.  Oh and I must not forget the one eventful part of that flight. As we came in for our landing in Nairobi, right as our wheels were touching down, we suddenly felt the plane begin to pick up speed and ascend again.  I looked at the flight attendant in front of me, with what I am sure was a look of fear and said "is that normal?"  He said, probably not, but more than likely the runway was not clear.  Thankfully, after another approach we were able to land safely, this time with no planes in our way.  Who knew a 747 could get off the ground that quickly....

Saturday October 18th-
After a restful nights sleep the team was ready to get the party started.  It was time to get to work.  We loaded back onto our bus and begin the drive to Ngaamba to see where we would be working over the next week.  I don't think any amount of preparation could have prepared me for what I would see or feel when we got to Ngaamba and I touched on it in my post, Worthy.  The welcome we received was incredible.  It was definitely the first time anyone danced in the streets in my honor.  After a beautiful welcoming from the people of Ngaamba our team jumped into action.  Some of our veteran team members told us it would take awhile to get the clinic set up and be able to see patients, but the 23 of us got the job done in record time.  We saw 61 patients in around 2 hours that first day.  When we loaded the bus at the end of the day we were exhausted and fulfilled.  It was amazing what we had accomplished in such a short time and how incredible it made us feel and it had only been a few hours.  We still had 4 days to go.  Each night we headed back to our hotel, the Myriam Inn, in the town of Sultan Hamud.  We had to leave the clinic around 4:30-5 each day in order to make it back before dark, as ordered by the Kenyan government.  I think that was ok with all of us, because by 5:00 we were toast!  Every night we would clean up and relax before having dinner together and then spend some time debriefing the events of our day.  Our hotel was right next to a mosque and I will say the call to prayer freaked me out a little bit at first.  It was both haunting and beautiful at the same time.  At times I felt a little like Claire Danes in Homeland.  Just kidding.  Our debriefs were a special time where we could process what we had seen and felt over the course of the day.  I usually cried.  Shocker I know.  It was impossible for me not to cry.  I was feeling so many different emotions.  It was hard to process it all.  The very first patient Dr Tim and I saw just broke my heart.  A mother brought in her young child, around 1 yr.  Through the interpreter she told us the baby was not walking, sitting, crawling or talking.  The baby was very hypotonic save for his arms which were drawn to his side.  After Dr Tim and his wife Wendy looked over the baby, we decided most likely he was born with a genetic condition and there was nothing we had to offer.  We then told the Mother her child would never be normal, never walk and maybe never talk and then sent her on her way.  It seemed so unfair.  In the US we would have exhausted all testing and resources to attempt to come up with some sort of diagnosis, whether it would have changed the outcome, who could say, but at least there would have been some options.  It was a big slap in the face.  This was a tiny village in Africa.  There would be no expensive diagnostic tests or interventions for this child, I mean, there wasn't even running water.  It was hard to tell what the Mother was experiencing as we talked to her.  To say the Ngaamban people are stoic is an understatement.  She just wrapped her baby back up and went about her day.  I am sure she had a family to care for and there was work to be done.  There would be no time to grieve the loss of "normal".  The other remarkable thing about these people is their faith in God.  I could spend a whole post on that alone.  After the patients were seen by a clinician they went to a different room to be prayed over.  One of my teammates remembered praying with this woman and her baby and just like the rest of the Ngaamban people she expressed her faith and trust in God and His ability to heal her child and provide for her family.  I was angry and she was grateful.  Isn't that interesting....It was the first of many experiences that I would struggle to understand.  It was a totally different world with a completely opposite set of circumstances than my own.

What a week this was going to be.  I knew my life was going to be changed by this trip, but I am not sure I could have ever prepared for exactly how impactful it would be.  I have to stop here, because I want to make sure I don't leave things out and honestly, just thinking about this small piece of the trip exhausts me, or maybe that is still just the jet lag.  Either way, I want to be thoughtful about journaling my experience, so I will work on it in stages.

Thank you again for your support.  For providing for me financially and your thoughts and prayers.  I know it was uncomfortable for many of you to send me across the world, especially to Africa, especially right now.  Thank you for being supportive anyway.  Thank you for standing behind me as I stepped out of my comfort zone and my comfortable life and took this daring adventure.  I love you all.

Here are some pictures from the first couple of days.

The road to the clinic

Our warm welcome

Waiting for us to open the clinic

God's children

Where Feet May Fail

Tuesday we had the opportunity to go to one of the schools in Ngaamba. We were there to screen the kids hearts, lungs and heads for ringworm. A team of 7 of us screened and handed out meds to 268 kids in two hours. Talk about efficiency. There still wasn't enough time though and some of the kids didn't get medications. We didn't have enough and we ran out of time. I didn't want to leave. It didn't seem fair.

The truth is however, it really wasn't about providing healthcare. It was about connecting with these children. Loving on them in a way no one else does. Teaching them to "blow it up" or fist bump, singing songs and making them giggle as we tried to pronounce Swahili. Their sweet hands reached out for us, begging for touch. We also got them to sing for us. The class one kids, the 5-6 year olds sang head, shoulder, knees and toes. I melted. Then the class 5 kids belted If You're Happy and You Know It. Thank goodness I got it on my go pro, because IT WAS AMAZING!

There is so much more to tell you, but I am bumping up and down the road on the way to the clinic. Today is our last day in the clinic, so pray we continue to touch lives and they continue to bless us.

Worthy

Yesterday we were greeted by the incredible people of Ngaamba. I was overcome with emotion when an entire village came into the road to meet our bus. They were singing and dancing, hugging and kissing us like they had been waiting all their lives for us to come. Later we were told they see us as a blessing from God. We are Jesus walking on earth. They have prayed for us and their prayers were answered. It rained the night we arrived and they said that happened because we had come. I cannot even begin to describe how all of this made me feel and will attempt at some point when I have more time. But, I don't feel worthy of this. I am just some girl from Atlanta. It is so hard to wrap my head and my heart around. I was reminded last night though that these people see me through Gods eyes. I am perfectly made in his hands and I am worthy of singing and dancing in the streets in my honor. I am also worthy of God's amazing love and grace and it is time I fully accept that. I am grateful for these people. I am a difference maker.

Quiet

Today is the day.  In less than 12 hours I will board a plane with Africa as the final destination.  Am I ready?  Kind of.  I am ready to be with the Ngaambans and to do amazing things with my team, but if I told you I was leaving with 100% confidence and no fear about anything I would be lying.  I am trying to be faithful and trust Him and His plan, but that is no easy feat.  There is a lot of noise lately surrounding travel and Africa and that noise is clouding my mind with anxiety, fear and restlessness.  Even as I sit in my silent house, which is rarely ever quiet, I can hardly hear over the "what if" thoughts racing through my brain.  Did I make the right decision?  Am I being irresponsible leaving my child?  If something happens will my family ever forgive me?  Will Jackson?  I know having these kind of thoughts is not productive, but the fears are real and today I am trying to silence them.  You should see the looks on some people's faces when I say I am going to Africa?  It is like I just told them I was going to slather myself in blood and jump into a pool of hungry great white sharks.  Don't worry everybody, I will wear my shark suit.  I know part of the reason I felt called to do this trip was because God wants me to learn how to be in His moment and listen.  He wants me to be reminded, gently, the control lies in His hands and not my own.  He wants me to know my strength lies in Him and He knows my heart.  I know I am supposed to be on this trip and I know it will be amazing.  I know it is a risk, but I don't want to live the safe life.  I want to teach Jack that incredible things can happen when you take a risk and step outside of your comfort zone.  I want him to learn to give himself to those in need, even when it is difficult and scary.  I want him to have the confidence to know he is capable of making a difference and know it is ok for him to go out and do it.  I want those things for my own life too.

So here I sit for a few more minutes in the comfort of my home, with my cup of coffee.  I will allow myself a few more minutes to be in the quiet.  I will not be overcome by fear or let anxiety pollute my mind.  I will find strength in God and the amazing people who make up my team and put my faith in His hands.  Time to be bold for the daring adventure awaits.

Take

Be bold.  Be brave.  Live big.  I am hearing that a lot these days.  Sounds like a great idea, to never being afraid to take a risk, having no fear of what the outcomes might or might not be.  Wouldn't we all like to live this way?  The last couple of years, thanks to Facebook, people have been telling me how they are living vicariously through me.  They love seeing the latest adventure I am on and are envious at how "brave" I am.  Isn't it amazing how things seem on the outside?  I will admit, I have been living a pretty adventurous life.  At any point on my Facebook wall you might see me climbing up the side of a mountain or even jumping off of one, and while it may seem like I don't have any fears, that really couldn't be further from the truth.  Take climbing for instance.  When you are lead climbing you climb from bolt to bolt, clipping your rope as you go.  At each bolt you become more protected, meaning there is less distance to fall.  When you climb above your last bolt there is a risk you might have a big fall.  Depending on how well protected a climb is that could mean 10 feet or 30.  There is no worse feeling than  getting halfway between bolts and realizing you don't think you can climb any higher.  Your options at that point are to take a fall, down climb (which presents its own issues) or to suck it up and push through your fear and get to the next bolt.  In order to avoid being in that precarious position one might choose another option.  Before leaving the last clipped bolt you can "take".  This means your belayer tightens up the slack and you can rest safely on him.  This gives you the opportunity to get the air back into your lungs.  To take a minute to get your head back into the game, assess your best options for making it safely to the next bolt and calculate your risks.  Sounds like a perfectly fine thing to do right?  It is fine, but it is definitely not the brave choice.  Picture this, you are climbing gracefully up a massive rock face.  Your muscles are glowing in the warm sun (not really, but stay with me, I am painting a picture here).  Your friends are admiring your skill and strength when suddenly, in a voice that doesn't even sound like your own, you scream TAKE.  Your legs and arms are shaking uncontrollably and you look a little like you might be  having a seizure.  There is nothing cool about that. When you take you tend to feel this sense of failure and defeat.  While I know sometimes it is the safest thing to do, I never end up feeling proud when I finish the route.  It is like it didn't really count.

Why is it that making the safe choice, makes me feel somehow less successful?  Why can't I just be satisfied with myself for trying?  What is the point of this climbing metaphor, I am sure you are wondering? My point is that there are plenty of times in life we chose to "take" and instead of seeing it as an opportunity to regroup and reground ourselves, we see it as a BIG FAT FAIL.  We think being brave means plowing full steam ahead with no apprehension, no second guessing of our choices.  Maybe it is.  But, lately I am beginning to wonder if being brave also means knowing when you need help.  Allowing yourself to stay grounded and keeping the bigger picture in focus.  Cutting yourself some slack and being ok with not always being the best at something.  Being ok with risking failure in front of people.  That is brave.  That is bold.  Knowing who you are and not being afraid to be vulnerable and expose your weaknesses.  Allowing people to see your fear and then see you man-handle your way right through it and come out on the other side stronger.

The title of my blog, Boldly I Approach, comes from a desire to live life bravely with a sense of adventure, but also without fear of the "take" or the fall.  To make choices that are sometimes safe and sometimes risky, but know that with either choice I am still living boldly.  As I enter into the final couple of weeks before departing on a medical mission to Africa I am facing some of my biggest fears head on.  Honestly, I am terrified.  Everyday I am challenged with trusting God's promise and His plan for me.  It is faith like I have never really understood before and I am really struggling.  I know that there amazing things in store for me and if I can just push through my fears my life will be forever changed.  Africa is a daring adventure.  It isn't going to be easy and there will be times I will want to take.  But, maybe that is the point.  Maybe that is God's plan, because what is actually so bad about resting safely on Him?

-So let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God-

Hebrews 4:16