Greetings from deck 6.
I am currently sitting on deck six reflecting on my week. The sun is shinning through the window next to me, looking out over the dock. Currently the view is of empty tents and an empty dock. Earlier this week the tents were full of our first surgical patients. Mothers and Fathers, daughters and sons, sisters and brothers, all patiently waiting in the heat of Dakar. Waiting with the one thing we desire to bring to all. Waiting with hope. Each one waiting for their turn with the doctors and nurses to find out if they get the final approval for their surgery. Hope fills the air, and we pray it fills their hearts as well. Slowly, throughout the week, one by one the approvals come, filling the surgery schedule one case at a time. And then, their incredibly brave adventure continues.
Each person is brought up the gangway to world they have never known, filled with people they have never met, with the hope that just maybe it really will be true. Maybe, just maybe they really will get FREE surgery and finally be free from that thing that has plagued them. That thing that has made them feel different, rejected, less than, or an outsider even among those who know and love them.
Each person is brought on board, navigating a maze of hallways and stairways and finally admitted to the hospital. Down, down they go into the belly of the ship, to the hospital deck. A new world. So brave. So many people, machines, tests, and doctors. They are met with open arms, smiles, a reassuring touch and kindness. For some it is a first. To not be stared at , but to see others like themselves. New friends made while waiting together in the tent, or on the bus. They are settled in a bed, given good food to eat and told to wait a little more. But then it happens. Their turn comes.....
They are led, or if they are too small, they are carried down the long passageways to the O.R. door. It must be such a scary moment. It must take such courage and strength to pass through that door. Some do it boldly with a smile on their face, others timidly with a tear on their cheek. With each step, more hope. Could this really be it.
The room is like nothing many have seen before. The large overhead lights, the draped tables, people in gowns and masks. The interpreter in the room becomes their life line.Often the one person in the room who speaks their language. They are laid on a table and reminded what will happen, and then the mask comes down and sleep overtakes them.
When they awake....it is a new world. Sometimes a new battle. A battle of recovery, battles with pain, and battles of disbelief. For hope has paid off. The surgery really did happen. Smiles emerge. burdens are lifted. Hope of a different future rises in their hearts, and in the hearts of those who love them.
This is what it is all about. This makes it all worth it. The hard parts.
Being far from home when hard times come. Being here when you wish you could be there for your friends back home. When friends face loneliness, hurricanes, and even death. It is in those painful moments that I must cling to hope of my own. The hope that it will all be worth it. That lives are changing. That seeds are planted. That God will have his way. That is where I place my hope. In God. In God I will trust.
I will trust him for the patients that have come, and for the many that have not yet arrived. I will trust him for their souls. I will trust that he can use the smallest things. A kind word, a look, a smile or a hug. I will trust that he can help me through the hard days with my own patients. Through the fevers, the vomiting and the stitches. I will trust that when I feel like I am at the end of myself and I don't know if I can take another step, HE will hold onto me. HE has a plan for it all. He loves them all more that I do. He is the author of Hope. And HE alone will finish it all.To Him alone be the glory.
Saturday, September 14, 2019
Saturday, July 27, 2019
Two homes
Greetings from Las Palmas Gran Canaria.
I arrived safely back on ship nearly a week ago now. It has been a busy week of unpacking, getting brought up to speed on the health of the crew, seeing a bit of what the island has to offer, and catching up with friends.
I arrived Saturday after nearly 2 days of travel. After little to no sleep on the planes I was quite ready to sleep. However, since I arrived at 2 in the afternoon, I forced myself to stay awake and went to bed at a normal bedtime for this time zone. I was able to sleep straight through the night and has experienced very little jet lag as a result. One very nice surprise for me was a bunk change. Sadly one of my cabin mates will be leaving in a few weeks, so she decided to switch bunks with me knowing I wanted the back space of the cabin. So when I arrived she had already moved and it was empty and ready for me to move in. What does that mean for me....it means a little more space, a little more privacy, and best of all......a window! I am so excited. I finally have a space with a window. It lets in so much natural light and is just wonderful. I may even have to get a plant.
I also arrived to 2 boxes of Christmas presents that my sister sent in January that had finally made there way to the ship. The arrived in April after I left and have been waiting for me. What fun. Christmas in July!!
This week I spent time with the outgoing nurse Jacqui, who has been caring for the crew during the last sail and shipyard. She brought me up to speed on all I needed to know. The bumps and bruises that have occurred and what might be ahead. She has done a great job caring for the crew. I am so thankful she was here so I could go to the states and take care of things.
Some of my week was spent seeing a bit of Las Palmas. The waterfront here is really lovely and has a long boardwalk that is several miles long. Full of shops, restaurants and people of all walks of life. It is a great place to sit and enjoy the breeze coming in off the ocean, people watch, or savor the incredible flavors of gelato as you stroll down the brick lined promenade.The other night I stood and watched as a man used a rope to make hundreds of soap bubbles that blew across the boardwalk in the cool evening breeze. It was a show stopper as children of all ages stopped and watched in delight as the bubbles drifted down the boardwalk. It didn't matter the age, size, race or religion, as many stopped with the same smile of delight, and often ran to catch the bubbles. I was unable to catch the smiles but a friend managed to catch the beauty of the bubbles along the building as seen below. It has defiantly made the off hours enjoyable.
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| The boardwalk in Las Palmas covered in bubbles |
Finally this week has been about catching up with friends I have not seen for months. Sharing coffees, meals, and walks near the ocean. Talking about the good things and the hard things of life. What did you do this summer has been a frequent conversation, followed often by the real, so how are you doing? How are things with you and the Lord. It has felt like coming home.Yesterday the families came home. Now that the ship is in the water, the kids are allowed back on board and so yesterday was home coming. Once again you hear the sound of children, laughing, crying, playing. Some of them happy to see you and some of them shyly hiding behind moms legs. All of them making it feel more like home.
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| Coffee on the boardwalk with Jen |
It never ceases to amaze me how two places on opposite sides of the world, with completely different cultures ,and completely different people can both feel like home. Leaving Virginia was hard. It felt like leaving home. Leaving what is familiar and comfortable and easy. The people I love.People who spent all Spring and most of the summer pouring their love and kindness out on me.
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| Milkshakes with Mom at the Pink Cadillac |
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| Sandstone falls with my sister Christy |
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| Mt Airy with my good friend Patty |
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| Summer Camp with the gang |
And yet stepping on the ship immediately feels like coming home. It feels right, familiar, and everywhere I turn is someone I love doing something I admire, for no other reason than their love of the Lord. Oh how I love this place. The first week has been filled with watching friends work hard, in the heat, with no air conditioning, walking up 72 steps on scaffolding to enter a hot ship and give their all. Three lovely kind men met me at the bottom the day I arrived and carried my three 50 pound bags (23kg) all the way to top for me.
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| The tower of terror...72 steps up the scaffolding to enter the ship in dry dock. |
These volunteers in shipyard are in class all their own. Many will never see Africa, will never see the patients they are working so hard to prepare for. Yet they work with a drive and a passion that is so admirable. Some skip meals, others skip fun trips to town, others work late into the night, so one more thing can be finished, one more goal accomplished, or so the next thing can be started, all with the patients in mind. This ship, this organization, this pack of people that God has called together from around the world is just amazing. I still have to pinch myself that I get to be a part of it. Thank you all for helping me do that! In the end I can truly say....there really is no place like home.
Monday, May 20, 2019
Koumba
For the last 16 years, Koumba has been serving in her village, bringing new life into the world as a midwife.
The thirty-nine-year-old estimates that in the years she’s been working, she’s helped to birth over 100 babies — some of whom she’s watched grow up and leave the village in search of higher education and job opportunities.
Her journey began when Guinean doctors from bigger cities came to her village with the goal of passing on medical training to several locals. She, along with two other women, received free training in the art of midwifery — a gift that she says changed the direction of her life. She went on to run a clinic, the only one in her village, where she became the go-to woman for all childbirth-related issues.
Koumba takes great pride and fulfillment in her role, and in her ability to pass on her training to the next generation of midwives. With six children of her own, it’s easy to tell that Koumba’s love for others runs deep and that she wears her compassionate heart on her sleeve.
“I don't really make any money, but I'm given a better gift. I help mothers give birth,” Koumba said. “When I see a mother holding her healthy baby, it's a very big blessing for me.”
But about five years ago, Koumba’s future took an unexpected shift when she noticed a lump starting to develop on her neck. It continued to grow, eventually evolving into a large goiter and constricting her airways.
Even with her years of medical experience, Koumba couldn’t access the surgical care she needed. Without an operation, she was fearful that she might be forced to face an early death. Her growing goiter made it more difficult for Koumba to do the work she loved as she grew tired and breathless more easily.
She remained endlessly positive in the face of her fear, a feat that she mainly credits to her husband.
“He would always tell me, ‘We’re going to be all right. God will help us. Don’t be afraid,’” she said.
When they heard that Mercy Ships was coming to Guinea, Koumba was confident that this was the answer to her family’s long-time prayer.
While waiting on the dock to board the Africa Mercy, Koumba was thrilled — but her joy revolved not around herself, but her fellow villagers back home.
“My whole village is praying for me — they all want me to get healed
"When I see myself in the mirror, I see peace. I'm so beautiful," she said.
During her time in the wards, Koumba would get up from her bed and dance — laughing and celebrating. The dancing never really stopped and her joy continued to shine throughout her time on the ship, culminating in a “thank you” speech on her last day.
"This surgery has brought me so much happiness,” she said. “I can move without pain now. When I go back to the village, I'll be able to work more than before… I gave help, and I received help. This is happiness."
Her whole village is waiting for her return, and Koumba’s not going to disappoint them. She’d planned her homecoming even before walking up the gangway. Koumba plans on buying a new dress and surprising everyone.
Once the dust settles around her big return, Koumba is looking forward to returning to her calling. She wants to continue bringing new life into the world, and while she works, Koumba says she’ll never tire of telling her story.
Written by Rose Talbot
Photography by Shawn Thompson
Edited by Haley Hoar
Used with permission from Mercy Ships
The thirty-nine-year-old estimates that in the years she’s been working, she’s helped to birth over 100 babies — some of whom she’s watched grow up and leave the village in search of higher education and job opportunities.
Her journey began when Guinean doctors from bigger cities came to her village with the goal of passing on medical training to several locals. She, along with two other women, received free training in the art of midwifery — a gift that she says changed the direction of her life. She went on to run a clinic, the only one in her village, where she became the go-to woman for all childbirth-related issues.
Koumba takes great pride and fulfillment in her role, and in her ability to pass on her training to the next generation of midwives. With six children of her own, it’s easy to tell that Koumba’s love for others runs deep and that she wears her compassionate heart on her sleeve.
“I don't really make any money, but I'm given a better gift. I help mothers give birth,” Koumba said. “When I see a mother holding her healthy baby, it's a very big blessing for me.”
But about five years ago, Koumba’s future took an unexpected shift when she noticed a lump starting to develop on her neck. It continued to grow, eventually evolving into a large goiter and constricting her airways.
Even with her years of medical experience, Koumba couldn’t access the surgical care she needed. Without an operation, she was fearful that she might be forced to face an early death. Her growing goiter made it more difficult for Koumba to do the work she loved as she grew tired and breathless more easily.
She remained endlessly positive in the face of her fear, a feat that she mainly credits to her husband.
“He would always tell me, ‘We’re going to be all right. God will help us. Don’t be afraid,’” she said.
When they heard that Mercy Ships was coming to Guinea, Koumba was confident that this was the answer to her family’s long-time prayer.
While waiting on the dock to board the Africa Mercy, Koumba was thrilled — but her joy revolved not around herself, but her fellow villagers back home.
“My whole village is praying for me — they all want me to get healed
"When I see myself in the mirror, I see peace. I'm so beautiful," she said.
During her time in the wards, Koumba would get up from her bed and dance — laughing and celebrating. The dancing never really stopped and her joy continued to shine throughout her time on the ship, culminating in a “thank you” speech on her last day.
"This surgery has brought me so much happiness,” she said. “I can move without pain now. When I go back to the village, I'll be able to work more than before… I gave help, and I received help. This is happiness."
Her whole village is waiting for her return, and Koumba’s not going to disappoint them. She’d planned her homecoming even before walking up the gangway. Koumba plans on buying a new dress and surprising everyone.
Once the dust settles around her big return, Koumba is looking forward to returning to her calling. She wants to continue bringing new life into the world, and while she works, Koumba says she’ll never tire of telling her story.
Written by Rose Talbot
Photography by Shawn Thompson
Edited by Haley Hoar
Used with permission from Mercy Ships
Thursday, April 18, 2019
Valerie & Edith
So I have been in the states for almost two weeks now. Time is going by so quickly. It has been a time of blessing. Time spent visiting churches and small groups. Being welcomed by so many and feeling loved. Indulging in a few of my favorite foods. Today I was able to enjoy the simple pleasure of mowing the grass. A first in quite some time.
Although I am here in Virginia, a large part of my heart remains in Guinea. Over there the opportunity to help others continues. Facial tumors are being removed, leaky bladders are being repaired, and heart and souls are being transformed by the love and compassion of God. It is Easter week. A time to reflect on Christ. On who he is, why he came, and what that means to my everday life. And what that means for yours as well. Who do you say he is?
I hope this week you spend some time answering those questions in your heart. Do you know how much his coming really meant. Do you know the transformation power that is available to us because of his choice? I pray you do. I know that today, in Guinea, because of Christ and he command to love others, there are some that do. Sometimes one of the stories here really just hits you a little harder than some of the others.
This is one of those stories. I am thankful for the video to help you see better than my words could. clink on the link below for a short video.
Thank you to all of you that help make this story possible .
Video used with permission from Mercy Ships.
Thank you for your ongoing prayers for me as well. I love you.
Although I am here in Virginia, a large part of my heart remains in Guinea. Over there the opportunity to help others continues. Facial tumors are being removed, leaky bladders are being repaired, and heart and souls are being transformed by the love and compassion of God. It is Easter week. A time to reflect on Christ. On who he is, why he came, and what that means to my everday life. And what that means for yours as well. Who do you say he is?
I hope this week you spend some time answering those questions in your heart. Do you know how much his coming really meant. Do you know the transformation power that is available to us because of his choice? I pray you do. I know that today, in Guinea, because of Christ and he command to love others, there are some that do. Sometimes one of the stories here really just hits you a little harder than some of the others.
This is one of those stories. I am thankful for the video to help you see better than my words could. clink on the link below for a short video.
Thank you to all of you that help make this story possible .
Video used with permission from Mercy Ships.
Thank you for your ongoing prayers for me as well. I love you.
Tuesday, February 26, 2019
Julienne
The story of Julienne
Thank you for being part of her story.
this video used with permission from Mercy Ships.
Special thanks to the talent that made it possible for us all to see part of the story.
Saturday, February 16, 2019
Hope
So, I was not sure what I wanted to blog about today. How real should one get? How much of yourself to you expose? But then we are called to share life together. To be real together.
As wonderful as the ship is, we are flawed, broken people. Forgiven, but stilled flawed. We will never do everything right. We bump up against each others edges. We irritate, we comfort. We learn from each other. We fall short. There will never be enough time, enough ships, enough people or enough resources to meet all the need. Because of that, it is important to be able to think about hope.
Many of our patients spend a large portion of their lives in longing. Longing to be whole. Longing to be included. Longing to not be rejected, or despised. For different reasons, many experience isolation due to their medical problems. People tell them they are not welcome, they are cursed, that they or one they love should just die, or worse be killed.
As wonderful as the ship is, we are flawed, broken people. Forgiven, but stilled flawed. We will never do everything right. We bump up against each others edges. We irritate, we comfort. We learn from each other. We fall short. There will never be enough time, enough ships, enough people or enough resources to meet all the need. Because of that, it is important to be able to think about hope.
Many of our patients spend a large portion of their lives in longing. Longing to be whole. Longing to be included. Longing to not be rejected, or despised. For different reasons, many experience isolation due to their medical problems. People tell them they are not welcome, they are cursed, that they or one they love should just die, or worse be killed.
Enter Jesus
From the moment they arrive it is our goal to introduce our patients to one who knows exactly how they feel.
3 He was despised and rejected by mankind,
a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.
Like one from whom people hide their faces
he was despised, and we held him in low esteem. Isaiah 53:3
a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.
Like one from whom people hide their faces
he was despised, and we held him in low esteem. Isaiah 53:3
Long before the first cut of the scalpel, or the first bandage change, our patients begin to experience the love of Christ flowing through these flawed vessels. Through the broken cracks, the light shines through. For most, it is a light they have never seen. It is surprising, unexpected and even hard to believe. They experience someone looking them in eye, reaching out to touch them, kindness, compassion, and yes even love. Often they become aware Slowly the guard comes down, hearts open and smiles appear. Slowly hope is born. Hope for something different. Hope for a different look. Hope for a different walk. Hope for a different life. And sometimes by God's grace alone, hope for a different eternity.
Hope is so important. Not only for our patients but for us as well. It is likely that each of us have something we are hoping for. It may be a new job, a spouse, a child or something only known to your and God. I want to encourage you to keep hoping. God has not forgotten you. This week I am studying in Genesis and have been reminded that Sarah waiting 90 years to be a mother. Even years after God promised her motherhood she waited. She got tired of waiting. She tried it her own way with not the best results. In the end, God was faithful. Friends, do not give up, and do not try to resolve it your way. Trust God. He has a plan. You are part of that plan.
I was reminded this week of my own deferred hope. Something that has been making my heart sick. Waiting for years for someone I love to choose to follow God. To surrender to Him, to see His way is the only way worth walking. How I long for it, and wait, and wait and wait. All the circumstances around me say it will not happen. But God. He reminds me of hope. He renewed my hope this week through a friend who has been waiting on the same desire. We spent an afternoon sharing our hearts, our fears, and our longings for our loved ones.Years of wishing and wanting and disappointment. Both feeling a bit sad and maybe a little hopeless, a little sick. But then God......in the way only He can, shows up. Just a few hours later, about 12 to be exact, she was able to share with me that on that very night, her loved one stepped into the kingdom of eternity. The walls came down, the seed sprouted and belief and faith were born in a new heart. Praise God. I am so thankful. Thankful for the joy that my friend and her loved one can now share. Thankful for her hope fulfilled. Thankful that another soul knows the one who made them. And I am truly thankful that the Lord let me have a glimpse and a reminder that it is never too late. That He is on the throne. That we can put all our hope in Him. I will keep praying and keep hoping.
Praying for you and yours.
Saturday, January 19, 2019
No pictures please
This week has been crazy busy. Lots of people with colds and sinus stuff. Not surprising as it is the time of year that the Harmattan is blowing. Fortunately we don't get it here very bad, but there is a lot of dust in the air and it is dry season as well. Many suffering from allergies as well. My real challenge has been all the other crazy things that have coming through the clinic. It has kept us on our toes to say the least.In the last couple of weeks I have been dealing with many strange things. Wounds that don't want to heal , that seem simple but just don't heal. Infections that are resistant to medications, broken bones from sports injuries, torn muscles in healthy young people,someone who was hit by a motorcycle and stroke like symptoms in a young healthy 30 year old. There have been many other strange things as well. I ask for your healing prayers for all of these and more. I also ask you to pray for me and the Crew Physician Alex as we strive to care for all of these in a challenging environment that sometimes lacks the tools we are accustom to .
On a higher note this week I had a very unique opportunity to go and tour the American Embassy here. Due to our government shut down it was a scaled down version with no parties or frills, but I enjoyed it very much. A group of about 40-50 of us took 1/2 a day off and caravaned to the Embassy. Security was high and impressive as we passed through multiple layers of security to enter the compound. For obvious reasons I will not share the details of that.
Our host we very welcoming and apologized for not being able to host us properly due to the government shut down. We did however get to hear from many of the different people working there, and learn about what they do and why they do it.
We heard from representatives from the Military, CDC, USAID, Security, and others. All in all about 10 different agencies that interact within the embassy. We learned more about the history of Guinea and how young the current government is and how well it is doing in spite of challenging circumstances. It was very encouraging. We learned that the some of the doctors and nurses that were trained by the US and others during the Ebola Crisis here, are now in Democratic Republic of Congo helping and teaching others with the current Ebola Crisis there. It made me proud to know that America has been part of helping there.
It was also nice, if even for a few hours, to feel like I was home. Inside the Embassy it felt like you were in America, with all things familiar. The building itself, the light fixtures, the furnishings, the carpet, all felt familiar and did not look or feel like what you normally see here in Africa. I was also proud to note that it was all done in simple taste, not over done or showy. We were allowed to see the office of the American Ambassador who did not happen to be there, and even His office was very simple and humble. It made me proud in a place where government power and money is often abused and used for ones own interest.
Different things stood out to different people as we chatted about it after our visit. Little things that looked like home. Art on the walls. Marines in uniform standing their posts. carpet on the floors. Pictures of America on a wall in the back of the room. A bathroom sign with a wheelchair and braille on it just like home. Pictures of the president and vice president hanging the wall. And of course, flying high in the center of the courtyard, flapping perfectly in a gentle breeze, the American flag. That was one of my good moments too.
Sadly due to security we were not allowed to take pictures, so you will just have to imagine. But it was a neat trip and I feel honored to have been allowed such a privilege.
Until next time, thanks for your prayers and support. Keep praying. This surgery block will be large head and neck surgeries and plastic surgeries. Pray for the surgeons, the patients and their families.
On a higher note this week I had a very unique opportunity to go and tour the American Embassy here. Due to our government shut down it was a scaled down version with no parties or frills, but I enjoyed it very much. A group of about 40-50 of us took 1/2 a day off and caravaned to the Embassy. Security was high and impressive as we passed through multiple layers of security to enter the compound. For obvious reasons I will not share the details of that.
Our host we very welcoming and apologized for not being able to host us properly due to the government shut down. We did however get to hear from many of the different people working there, and learn about what they do and why they do it.
We heard from representatives from the Military, CDC, USAID, Security, and others. All in all about 10 different agencies that interact within the embassy. We learned more about the history of Guinea and how young the current government is and how well it is doing in spite of challenging circumstances. It was very encouraging. We learned that the some of the doctors and nurses that were trained by the US and others during the Ebola Crisis here, are now in Democratic Republic of Congo helping and teaching others with the current Ebola Crisis there. It made me proud to know that America has been part of helping there.
It was also nice, if even for a few hours, to feel like I was home. Inside the Embassy it felt like you were in America, with all things familiar. The building itself, the light fixtures, the furnishings, the carpet, all felt familiar and did not look or feel like what you normally see here in Africa. I was also proud to note that it was all done in simple taste, not over done or showy. We were allowed to see the office of the American Ambassador who did not happen to be there, and even His office was very simple and humble. It made me proud in a place where government power and money is often abused and used for ones own interest.
Different things stood out to different people as we chatted about it after our visit. Little things that looked like home. Art on the walls. Marines in uniform standing their posts. carpet on the floors. Pictures of America on a wall in the back of the room. A bathroom sign with a wheelchair and braille on it just like home. Pictures of the president and vice president hanging the wall. And of course, flying high in the center of the courtyard, flapping perfectly in a gentle breeze, the American flag. That was one of my good moments too.
Sadly due to security we were not allowed to take pictures, so you will just have to imagine. But it was a neat trip and I feel honored to have been allowed such a privilege.
Until next time, thanks for your prayers and support. Keep praying. This surgery block will be large head and neck surgeries and plastic surgeries. Pray for the surgeons, the patients and their families.
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