moments like this

So I am nearly over my cold and feeling much better. I was a long week or so with just feeling blah. Not really horrible sick, just not healthy or feeling good. I am getting back to my routine of walking or swimming in the evenings and getting fresh air which has helped. It is just some little virus that has been making its way through the crew.

My week has passed quickly with many crew in and out of the clinic. My normal crew doctor has returned from her leave and things seem back to "normal". Interesting thought. Is there really a normal here? What is normal? Immediately I think of my nursing instructor who always told us normal is just a setting on your dryer. :)

Two highlights stick out to me this week.
1) I have been doing wound care for someone who smashed their finger pretty bad. It got infected and had to be opened and drained. The nail will likely come off and it has been very painful. This has been and ongoing process for about a week. It is headed in the right direction now. Caring for this person has been such a blessing. Everyday they come in, get the wound cleaned and dressed, and tell me how I have made them feel cared for. It is a reminder that most of the people here are not used to being treated with compassion. I  have not done anything super special. I have tried to treat this person as I would want to be treated if it was my finger, or my Mom's. I held their hand during injections and rubbed their back when pain was being inflicted. I gave pain medication where I could and love where I could not.

The reward has been marvelous. I have received the best payment. Every day this person takes time to write down a bible verse that speaks to the situation. As they are leaving the clinic they give it to me and the doctor and thank us for the care they have gotten. It is the best paycheck ever. The verses have spoke deeply into my heart and spirit.

2) The second highlight of my week was a couple of days ago. After work instead of heading straight up to dinner, I went down the hall to the hospital. There is a little girl there that I have been connecting with. I met her a while ago while visiting the hope center.This is where patients from far away live while waiting for their surgeries. She is about 6 years old and so sweet. We don't speak the same language but I have been stopping by to see her almost daily since she arrived on the ship. One day I walked in to the hospital to drop off my pager and she saw me across the ward. she sat up in bed and waved energetically. It blessed me that she remembered me. So this day I dropped of my pager and she was in the hallway just outside her ward. I sat down on the floor and was just trying to say hi. She began to put stickers on my arms and face and then she reached over and touched my hair. Then I touched hers, which is shaved close to the head. Then for then next 45 minutes, I sat on the floor while she played in my hair, twisting it and braiding it and having a fun time. For those few minutes it did not matter that we could not speak. She has recently had surgery on a very large tumor on her face and has a big scar on her chin and neck. she kept covering it with a cloth. she would use on hand for the cloth and one for my hair. I could tell she was self conscious about it. So I pointed to her scar and touch it lightly with my finger. she looked down. I lifting her chin and then took her finger and as I lifted my head to the sky, I placed her finger on the scar on my neck and traced it. She immediately understood. I too have had a surgery and understand her a bit. She broke into a large smile. The next thing I knew the cloth was on the floor and both of her tiny little hands were busy braiding my hair. We had a nice time. We sat there playing with my hair and listening to music on my phone and for a little while it did not matter that she was 6 and I was 49 or that she is from Benin and I am from America. For that short time we were just two girls having fun and loving each other.

These are the moments that make it all worth it. They are immeasurable. They are what you cling to when you think of the few things large or small that you must sacrifice to be here. The time with family and friends, the comforts of home, a nice paycheck. I miss those things, and wish I could have them here, but I freely give them up for moments such as these.

keeping it real.

So today is just an ordinary day. It is Saturday and I am sick. The bug going around has finally caught me and I have had a few rough days. Just feel weak and run down. No energy. scratchy throat and head congestion. Nothing too horrible. Small  fevers overnight. I only need to walk down the hall from my clinic to my room for a perspective check. I go right past the hospital and I am quickly reminded my problems is insignificant and minor. But up here on deck six, sitting on the couch, I am just me. Feeling blah, having no voice and I just want to sit around and do nothing.
However, move I must. Daily living calls. laundry must be done, cabin needs to be kept "ship shape", and I need to find  a screwdriver . I have a chair in my room that was delivered almost 2 weeks ago that still needs to be put together. Who knew it  would be so hard to find a screwdriver on a ship.
I know that they exist. I know engineering must have lots of them. It  is just the logistics of finding the right person at the right time to make it happen. silly huh?
So just an ordinary day.

It matters to them

So some days I catch myself wondering, does what I am doing here matter. Understand, I am not in the OR everyday, I rarely see the patients. My job here is to care for the crew. It is very similar to what I do back home. I currently work M-F with weekends off and feel quite spoiled So I try to evaluate my situation and make sure I am doing what I am supposed to be doing. The answer is clearly yes. Not just what I do, but each individual on the ship and on the dock. The men who work on the vehicles and the engineers who purify our drinking water. The cooks, the supply people and the people who clean the toilets and showers. Each one helps to make the whole possible. Today I was looking at photos that are from the screening that occurs at the beginning of each field service in each country the ship goes to. The need and desperation can be overwhelming. It is for these, the least of them, that we do what we do. It matters to them. Because I saw a cut finger, a stomach ache and a sore throat today, tomorrow, another handful of people will have a life changing encounter. I don't have to stand next to the surgeon to make that possible, and neither do you. To each of you that helped me get here, those who prayed while I was making the decision, those who gave, those who continue to pray and support me with notes from home, those who look in on my Mom, a deep and heartfelt thank you. It matters to me, and it matters to them.

Matthew 25:40
“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

He is Risen

The day began very early this morning. Before the sun was up. It is resurrection day. A day to remember, a day to rejoice. The crew gathered early on the top deck of the ship. As the sun slowly rose, filtered through grey blue clouds, a chorus of voices lifted up, to our Savior and King. Some were dressed in the Sunday best, some still groggy from sleep, appeared in their pajamas. Everyone with the same desire. To worship our Risen King. 2000 + years ago, everything changed. As 11 disciples huddled hidden away, wondering what to do next, death was conquered and victory obtained. This is why we gather. This is why we raise our voices and let them drift through the port and drift to the heavens. We join the angels proclaiming that Christ is risen, He is risen indeed. We joined our voices in English, French and Yuruba. We read together the story of the resurrection from all four gospels. Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. In between we sing, we reflect and we celebrate. A small taste of what is to come. people from different tribes, and different tongues gathered  together worshiping the true King.

The rest of the morning was just as  wonderful. Breakfast was next, filled with yummy croissants, fresh fruit and coffee or tea to your liking. Most of the crew on the ship was present, with the exception of a few who worked so others would not have to. People break off into smaller groups and conversation and laughter can be heard echoing around the middle of the ship.Then we are all off to the next celebration.

We gather again  in  the international lounge. The chaplains have worked to prepare messages for the crew to celebrate this day. We are reminded that the cross at the front of the room, like the tomb back in Jerusalem is empty. He is not here, He is  Risen. The words have been heard time and time again this morning. That we can walk and live in victory. I am undone by the picture of what he has done for me. How he reached down in to the pit where I lived, covered in mud and lost in darkness. How even there the depth of His love could find me and save me. How he lifted me up, covered me in His blood, and lifted my arms in victory. His sacrifice was ENOUGH. It is FINISHED. There is more singing and then we take communion together. It is so sweet. To think of how we are all bound together, around the room and around the word by One Man/One God. I think of my friends in Uganda, and America, Germany, Nicaragua, Honduras and New Zealand. Too many others to list, but everywhere today, we take communion together bound by the sacrifice made for each of us and all of us.

Down below decks, deep in the ship, the celebration continues. As I was walking in the hallway, the sound of singing and drums drifts up to the 5th deck. Down in the hospital the patients and staff that are working are also praising the King.  Even there, in the midst of illness and recovery the message of healing and wholeness is being proclaimed. There is joy and celebration even there this morning.

One of the best parts of the day was at the end of the second service. Somewhere around 20-25 people, one representing every language spoken by the crew today, was called to the front. One by one, each of them in their native tongue said "Christ is Risen, He is Risen indeed". It was such a neat moment to hear them go down the line, each proclaiming the Glory and truth of the gospel in their own language, even now I have goosebumps thinking of it.

All of this was followed by the most amazing family meal. The food services staff has clearly been working for days preparing for this meal. There was roast lamb, and turkey, vegetables and salads, anti pasta, and cheeses from I don't know where. Ornate baskets carved from watermelons filled with fruit and decadent deserts satisfy the sweetest sweet tooth. I hope to post some photos of it all later.

It has been one of the best Resurrection days I have ever celebrated . There has been so much joy, laughter and worship. I really wish there was a way for you all to know and experience it. But then one day we will if we choose too.  We are all offered to one day sit down to an even greater banquet. A banquet with the King himself. Today was just a shadow of what is to come, but what a lovely glimpse it has been.

Before and After

It is a busy week on board this week. Preparations for Easter celebrations and time to reflect on what the Lord has done and is still doing both in us and around us. I thought it might be a good time to share a few before and after photos. These peoples lives have been transformed from their time on the ship. Physically the changes are visible, but we also are here to for the change that is not visible. A change from lost to found, from death to life. This is what I ask you to pray for. For these and the thousands of others you will not see.
That they will see the light of Christ in those they encounter on the ship. That they will experience the unconditional love of Christ. That they will have hope. That their eternities will be transformed.
As you celebrate the resurrection this week, pray that lives of each of us will be forever changed by the empty tomb! He is Risen!
(photos used with permission from Mercy ships)

From Mercy Ships

The following story and photos are shared from Mercy ships with permission.


“Did you swallow a tennis ball?” the kids in the neighborhood asked David. But he didn’t respond.
“I don't know why … I just didn't want to insult back,” he explained, with a gentle smile that seemed to lie subtly behind every expression – even when recalling hard times.
And it hadn’t been easy. At the age of five, a small mass began growing and hurting. His parents tried various treatments, but, because money was scarce, they had very few options, none of which worked. By the time David was 10, his tumor had dramatically increased, driving the family to the local hospital for help. It was there that the hard news set in. "After we paid $50.000 CFA (around $85 USD) for the analysis, the doctors told us surgery would cost $300,000 CFA (around $508 USD).” There was no moving forward. “As his parents, we did everything we could, but we had no money to pay for him to have surgery,” they explained.
And so, David adjusted over the next two years. He tried to avoid some of the shame of the public eye, which saddened Diane, his mother. “He couldn't go out with me like his brothers … he spent most of his time at home,” she said.
But then Diane heard about Mercy Ships. "On the ship's arrival day, I was near the sea and saw the ship entering the port." From there, she set out on a mission to get help for her son. Along with thousands of others also in need of surgery, Diane and David waited in long lines for a chance to be seen by someone from Mercy Ships. Returning every day for six days, even sleeping outside in the rain at times, their persistence paid off, and David was approved for free surgery onboard the Africa Mercy!
Little did David know of the transformation that was in store as he boarded the ship. He was joined by his mom, who stayed by his side until it was time for the doctors to operate. A few hours – and many prayers – later, the mass had been removed, and he was recovering well. Soon after, David’s bandages were changed by caring nurses, who handed him a mirror. For the first time in eight years, David got to see his boyish face without the tennis ball … and was amazed: "When I looked in the mirror, I saw that I was more handsome!" he exclaimed.
In-between visits to the ship for check-ups, David put together drawings of his time spent onboard and explained the penciled self-portraits. "I drew me before and after I had the surgery. I am now a handsome boy," he said once again, even more confidently this time.
David returned home for good, quite different than when he left. But what did those neighborhood kids make of his transformation? Diane witnessed their reaction. “I had been waiting for this day for so long, and now it has happened. When we came back home, our neighbors saw him and they were all excited. They hugged him and were overjoyed to see him without the tumor. Now that they see his happiness, they will want to find out more. They must know that in this life God will someday provide the helping hand,” she said.
David was excited to be back at home with his family. His brothers and sister were eager to hear more.  “Where is the tumor that you had on your neck?” they asked.
And he had the perfect answer, “It’s gone.”

Story by Windsor Marchesi
Edited by Nancy Predaina
Photos by Justine Forrest & Miguel Ottaviano


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Twelve-year-old David spent eight years carrying this mass, unable to get treatment because his family couldn’t afford surgery. He endured hurtful comments like, “Did you swallow a tennis ball?”


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David’s mom loves her son dearly. She heard Mercy Ships had arrived in Benin and brought her son to see if help was possible. They waited in line for six days, hoping and praying for a chance for free surgery.


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Dr. Gary Parker, volunteer surgeon onboard the Africa Mercy, checks in on David after surgery – and finds him recovering quite well!


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David’s bandages were removed – and for the first time in eight years, he got to see his face – without the tumor! He said, “I am handsome now!”


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David is the best big brother!


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The ability to be “care-free” – some take it for granted, others don’t have a chance to know it at all. David’s tumor is gone – and it’s a freeing experience.


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An amazing transformation!

How beautiful

Its evening time here in Benin. The work week has ended for most of the crew. Following a nice dinner at a local Schwarma shop I find myself sitting in the coffee shop much like home. It is in the center of the ship on deck 8 and most evenings is the center of activity. Currently I am sitting on a comfy cough in the southwest corner of the room. The center of the room contains an open atrium down to the next level where the actual coffee shop is. the atrium is square and you can look down in the center. across from me a group of crew members are celebrating Fred's birthday. There is much laughter drifting across as the teach each other to dance with Michael Buble' plays on someones phone.It reminds me of Debi and Geoff and Dancing Girl back in the day. A familiar sense of Deja vu'.
Across the atrium on the other side is the Internet cafe. A group of about 20 computers set up for the crew to use. I hope to spend some time their tomorrow and download some of the photos that are there for the crew to use. photos of areas we may not get to go and of patients we are asked not to photograph. This will allow me to share more of what is happening her. I am thankful that they have set this up for us.
Then across the room from that is another seating area with table. It is mostly empty now, but a little while ago it was filled with more crew members exciting talking with a local tailor. They had been to the fabric market and now discuss the items they wish for her to create. She is quite talented and will transform their vibrant fabrics into amazing dresses, scrub tops, laptop covers, purses and who knows what else. The tailor comes once a week and there is never a shortage of clients waiting anxiously for her arrival.
Back on my side of the room the dancing seems to have ended. The cake has been eaten, the dances have been taught and the party seems to be winding down. A few other crew drift in and settle at a near by table and begin to play cards. It is fun to watch all the small pods of people from all over the world being bound together by their common goal to help and serve others. Little pods of family forming.
Again it feels familiar and my mind wanders to those I am bound to. Those I have danced with, played games with, broke bread with, and served with. My heart is warmed and at the same time I miss them. Wish them here.
And now another conversation is heard. One of my African brothers sharing the gospel with a group of young people gathered at a game table. His enthusiasm is contagious. Here is a man who loves the Lord. He speaks with love, with kindness, with grace and with a matter of fact attitude. Isaiah 52:7
"How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, "Your God reigns!" What a wonderful way to close out the day. I'm going to stop typing now and just listen as this man as he pours out his heart about the God he serves. 
Until later....May you continue to seek Him and hear His voice.

The point of no return

This weekend was a roller coaster of emotions. There were high highs and low lows. The weekend began Friday night. I had been invited  to  join  7 other crew members for a weekend away. We split the cost of an air b and b which made it very affordable  to spend a weekend at the beach in a town  a few hours from here.
The first leg of the journey was a bit of a low when we exited the port to find our transportation  waiting for us. It was a 6 seat vehicle for a total of 10 of us including our driver and tour guide and all of our luggage.
That began a long process of trying to obtain another vehicle. the next four hours were filled traffic jams, vehicle break downs, being separated from the other vehicle and worrying if they were left behind. Eventually we made it to our destination and it was all worth it. We stayed at a VERY nice beach house with a private courtyard and pool, right on the ocean. The next 36 hours were incredibly relaxing and a chance to be refreshed. We had wonderful food prepared for us by 2 local men and had a nice time bonding as crew members.

Sunday morning we departed early and stopped at another town along the way. The next four hours were spent touring the site of a former Portuguese slave station. It is estimated that over 2 million slave were forcefully process through here and sent to their future of suffering through this town. We had opportunity to tour the museum and walk where they walked. See relics that have been found. Items like the small pipe that would be traded for 5 slaves and the irons that were used to chain them together in  long lines as the march them from one station to another.

We saw the station were they would have their teeth check and the place where they were branded with hot irons. We saw the location of the dark rooms where they were chained in darkness to prepare them for the voyage over the sea and pit where they were tossed like rubbish if it was determined that they were not healthy enough or strong enough to make the voyage.

Through out the day my emotions were building. I could feel it but was determined I would be strong. My spirit was also in distress as we listened time and time again to the tour guide tell us of how voodoo ruled this culture then and how it does now. How snakes, twins and dwarf's are worshiped and  how human sacrifice was a large part of the history.

It was hot. the sun was high above us and we drove from one spot to another. each time you got out of the vehicle the hot air hit you like a wall. Each time we returned to the un-airconditioned care our snapping point inched a little closer. Finally we arrived at the sea. The 7th and last stop the slaves would make . A large archway has been built to memorialize what happened here.It is called the point of no return. Because once the slaves left this spot they never came back.

As I walked through the hot sand to stand beneath the arch, my heart broke. I thought of the people who were forced from this beach onto a boat and then onto a ship to never see their homes again. To never see their parents, their husband or wives, their children, their neighbors. I was overcome and wept. How could such evil be done. How could someone ever think it is okay to do that to another human being. It is beyond me. I prayed. a lot. For them, for me, for the world that we live in where this could happen. A world in which Evil is real, even celebrated and worshiped. My heart was heavy.

Nothing can every undo what occurred here, in other parts of Africa and on the shores of other countries. All the memorials can not change the part, but I do think it is important to remember. If we could only learn from it. If we could only turn away from the darkness and run into the light. That is my  hope. And that is what I will live for. So that one by one, be it here or at home, I may help someone know that there is a different answer. That there is light. John 8:12
That there is love. John 13:34 John 3:16
That there is compassion and there is forgiveness.Ephesians 4:32 My one comfort is that one day it will all be set right. One day my Lord and King will return. He will right every wrong and wipe every tear away. Revelation 21:4 Evil has already been defeated. He knows it, I know it. So I offer my pain and sadness to God and ask him to help me to be a light in a dark place, where ever  that is that I may be today.