Small Things with Great Love

I’ve been in Dilla, Ethiopia for about three weeks now. It’s been a beautiful time, but a little more challenging than I anticipated. Honestly, I think I was a little nonchalant in my mental/spiritual preparation for this mission, because it was “only” ten weeks and the last time I was on foreign missions was for a full year.  Rookie mistake.

When Sr. Antonieta (the same sister/doctor that I worked with in South Sudan) asked me to come to Dilla to help with a clinic they were trying to open, I knew there was a possibility that the clinic wouldn’t be open yet, even though I came over a year after Sr. Antonieta. The physical buildings and the whole organization of the clinic required a lot of work. At this point, the clinic is ready, but we don’t have enough staff. We have posted notices for what we are looking for, but have received little to no interest. So the clinic remains closed, and I would be absolutely shocked if it opened before I left in August.

So, what does that mean for me? Basically, I don’t have a set daily job, which means every day looks different doing whatever tasks the sisters need (the sisters also have a college and two kindergarten schools.) This was really hard for me at first because I felt like I was not truly being helpful and I started to questions why I even came here at all. Then, one day, I spent about an hour ironing curtains for the hall in which the college graduation was taking place and I couldn’t get Mother Teresa’s words out of my head, “Do small things, with great love.” Small things still require GREAT love and that great love is what brings glory to our Lord.

Those small things, humble my own heart, quiet my own pride so that I can make this mission truly about what the Lord wants to do through me. It’s not about what I can do for the people. It’s not about coming home with incredible medical stories and a long list of all the lives I impacted.  It’s about supporting the sisters and the long-term work they do here. It’s about listening to the Lord’s call daily, and obeying Him even when His call is so very different from my expectations.

Humility is a difficult thing to appreciate. It’s hard to see how becoming little can be so great, especially in a society that values power and self-gain over almost anything. Ultimately though, I know that there is a God infinitely greater than me. Only when I humble myself and allow Him to work through me, only then can greatness come.  He wills nothing but good for my life. I place all my trust in Him and as challenging as it is, I ask Him to make me small so He can be glorified.

Life and Its Value

This weekend is the March for Life in DC. Hundreds of thousands of people will gather in DC to stand for the most fundamental right that the world has to offer, the right to life. Every single person on this Earth deserves that right, from conception to natural death.  This is not a political post. I am not writing about what I think the laws in America should or should not be.  I am not even writing about America specifically. I am writing about what I think are the consequences of misunderstanding the value of life. I am writing about brokenness. I am writing about things that I have witnessed in this world that have completely and utterly broken my heart.

This is an honest post and a vulnerable one. There are things that have weighed on me since my return to the states and I’m not even sure how I should put them into words. This is not something that is easy for me to write about. To begin, I have to describe some things that I saw while I was in South Sudan.

As some of you know, South Sudan has been in civil war since it became a country 5 and a half years ago. I won’t dive into all the details of the politics of the country, but all of the fighting is based on tribalism.  There are many different tribes in South Sudan and each one wants to have power over the other. The crimes that are committed each and every day are atrocious. I heard about them happening all over the country the whole year that I was there, but everything really hit home during the last month of my mission.

The war came full-fledged to Wau on Friday evening June 24, 2016. A storm was brewing in the sky that night and the sound of thunder battled that of gunshots. As I sat behind my locked door in my locked compound, I wondered what was happening to the people outside. The people I had grown to love, whose only protection was a hut made of mud and grass.  They all had to flee from their homes, anyone who was not from the Dinka tribe. They became displaced, they lost the right to have a home in their own country and many of them lost their lives. We had 1,000 refugees staying at our school. I spent the next 3 weeks with them and it changed my life forever.

I saw suffering on a level that I had never imagined seeing. I saw people experiencing the loss of what little they had, living in complete uncertainty of what would become of them, their family and their country. This uncertainty continues today. Over half a year later and most of these people are still unable to live in their own homes. The country is broken and the people live in agony.

So, what does this have to do with being pro life? People have asked me what I think needs to be done in order to bring stability to South Sudan. What policies can be put into place? What can the UN be doing? What is our responsibility as the international community? I think there is a lot that can and needs to be done to aid these people, but I won’t go into all of that now because I realized that the true problem is so much deeper than a corrupt government. There is no understanding of the value of human life. For many of them, if a person is of a different tribe they are not a true person. They have no worth. A young boy can be used as a soldier to gain military power, a girl for sex, a man killed for a bicycle and a woman killed for collecting firewood.   

Until they understand the importance of life in all forms, no matter the tribe, they will not live peacefully. Until they understand that the power to take away life should not be in the hands of humans, there will be war.  This is a deep-rooted moral issue and it is creating tragedy after tragedy.  It’s tearing people apart all over the world.

I am pro-life. Being pro-life means respecting ALL life; being pro-life means understanding that a life of an American doesn’t hold more value than a life of a foreigner; being pro-life means accepting people of all cultures; being pro-life means speaking up for those who have no voice. I want more than a change of laws, I want a change of hearts.   My prayer, more than anything else, is that people may come to know the importance of life and the one who gives it.                                                                         

The Living Church

I want to let everyone know that I did not give up on my blog. I had started to write a couple of posts, but a lot happened and they became somewhat irrelevant. Now, I am to the point were I have so many different thoughts I want to share that I don’t even know were to begin. I hope to eventually write a few posts about the end of my mission, my travels, and the transition back to America, but for now I will start with one short story.

I was very lucky to spend a weekend in Rome during my post-mission travels. (Shout out to Marta for going with me!) Rome might be the most beautiful city that I have ever visited. Every corner is full of culture and history, but my favorite thing about the city is all of the churches. There are the landmark ones that we planned to visit and they, of course, took our breath away, but I was amazed that even the small churches that seemed so simple on the outside were just as extravagant on the inside. I saw my favorite saints in priceless art. I saw years of hard work to create these places of worship. I saw sculptures that my hands could never dream of creating. I cannot even describe the beauty of these churches.

They were unlike anything I had ever seen, but they weren’t my favorite representation of the church that I saw that weekend.  As Marta and I were leaving one of the churches, I saw a young woman kneeling down with an elderly homeless woman. She had both her hands on the woman’s shoulder and was praying over her aloud as the woman smiled softly. It was simple, yet so powerful. This was it. This was the most beautiful image of the church that I saw. I love the symbolism of my church. I love that there are images from 100s of years ago that still resonate in my life today.  I love that I have such incredible places to worship. Yet, what I love even more than all of this is the living church.

I see such beauty in God’s people living the life that He has called them to and that is a life of love. It is a life of humbling oneself and knowing where one’s worth lies. This is what God asks of the church. He asks us to love His people, to love all those around us. There is a lot of hate and negativity in the world. Nothing hurts me more than when this hate is claimed to come from “Christian” values. Devaluing a person, for any reason, is never something that God asks of us. He is asking us to show acceptance and support to all of His people, especially those in most need.

Watching a poor woman get prayed over was the reminder I needed as to what God wants of His people. He wants witnesses. He wants the living church to have a presence in all corners of the world and in all populations. He is asking me to be His hands and feet, whether in South Sudan, Rome or Tallahassee. I must show the beauty of the church, especially to those who might not see it otherwise. 

UnBULLievable

Today I will share with you a story. It’s one of those “only in Africa,” one of a kind experience kind of stories. It’s a story of confusion, fun, surprises and joy.

It all started with a donation. Sr. Thuy was at the school when a parent came to visit. He was offering to donate, what she understood, to be a ball for the children to play with. She graciously excepted, thinking how lucky they were because they had just broken their last good ball. Later, when they were trying to figure out when he could bring the donation by, one of the other teachers said, “Sr. Thuy, you know he wants to donate a BULL, not a BALL,” and that’s how we came to have a pet bull for one week.

We accepted the bull to provide a meal for the children as a gift. We had to keep him for one week before we prepared the meal. He was a very gentle bull. We made the classic mistake or naming our food, but I have no regrets. Chol the bull became our friend, but we also weren’t sad about the fact that he would be eaten. Feeding over 1,000 children isn’t such a bad fate. We kept him in our compound tied to a mango tree. Someone had to go to the market every day to collect food to keep him full and happy.

The plan was for the children to enjoy their meal on Friday, April 21. We didn’t have much time and had quite a few details to settle. The dispensary staff was also going to help with preparation and cooking since we are right next to the school and had a good area and kitchen to prepare it in. We had a staff meeting on Tuesday to  get advice on the best way to go about this. Eventually it was settled that the meat would need to start being prepared on Thursday evening.

We hired two men to come slaughter the bull at 7 PM on Thursday. Somehow I ended up there while it was happening and I realized that I had become a stronger person in my time here. I never would have thought that was something I would witness. 4 of our cleaning/cooking ladies from the dispensary came to prepare and cook the meet. I worked with them until midnight cutting the meat. I figure if the whole nursing thing doesn’t work out, I guess I could find a job as a butcher (here’s to hoping that nursing works out.) Sr. Antonieta and the ladies stayed up the whole entire night cooking. Everything worked out great and the cow fed all of the students and the staff of St. Joseph’s and the Dispensary staff.

The children were SO excited to get food. One student who is in P-8 thought it was a miracle because after all of his years at St. Joseph’s, this was the first time they got a meal. They all ate and enjoyed so much. It was a lot of work for one meal, but that meal meant a lot to the kids. I’m so grateful for the father who donated the bull, for the sisters and for the staff who helped make this happen.  It was such a unique experience and one that I will never forget!  

A Lesson in Love

I realized that I haven’t really written a lot about my time at the dispensary, even though that is the biggest part of my mission here. I think part of what kept me from writing about my experiences there is that it is so hard to describe what a day is like there. It’s easier to write about the children at oratory or the celebrations we have or the trips around the town.

I am so glad that I can use my education to serve the people here, but it is in no way without its struggles and frustrations. As all of my nursing friends can attest, it is not easy to be a new nurse. There are so many new things to learn and so many new ways to apply the things we have been taught. Add to that a third world country, lack of supplies and technologies and a language barrier and it’s a wonder I consider myself a functional nurse at all. As with many things about moving to Africa, it was an adjustment, an adjustment that revealed many of my weaknesses.

My biggest strength during nursing school was my communication with my patients. If nothing else, I could almost always make my patient smile through kind words or patience in my speech. Here, I very rarely have a patient who speaks English. The language barrier is my most frustrating struggle. I long so deeply to be able to comfort patients with my words, to kindly explain to them where they need to go after seeing me, to explain to a child that my stethoscope won’t hurt them.  I long to understand their full stories instead of getting the roughly translated version, to hear their concerns, to listen to their histories.  I want to be able to explain to them that every fever doesn’t necessarily mean malaria, that it is a good thing when the test is negative, that every cough doesn’t need an antibiotic.

I often have patients that I know need more care than what I can offer. Patients that I know don’t have the money or the access to the care that they truly need to get better. I have patients that have been shuffled from facility to facility getting prescription after prescription that may or may not help the underlying problem.  It is hard because these patients are really trusting in me and there are many times that I feel like I am letting them down. I have limited knowledge, limited experience and limited courage.

Through all of these struggles and frustrations, every day brings beauty, even though I am limited, even though I am not enough. This is because I have a God who is enough, who is limitless. A God who shows me how to love, who teaches me patience and who provides true healing. I am just an instrument in His divine will. I am learning more from these struggles than any triumphs because I am learning the most important lesson of all, that I should never rely on my own self. God is teaching me to find new ways to share His love with my patients. There are many ways to show kindness, patience and joy without any words at all.

After five months of being here, I truly believe that God has used me to bring joy to the people here. He has used my broken Arabic, love for children and limited medical knowledge. I am not afraid to love these people. I am not too proud to try using my Arabic, even though half the time they laugh or think that I am still speaking English. I am not embarrassed when every eye in the dispensary is on me as I teach a couple of toddlers how to play patty cake. My favorite moments of each day are when I have a few spare minutes when I can go around and greet everyone and try to make the babies laugh.

I am a nurse in South Sudan. I write diagnosis and give prescriptions. I have treated hundreds of malaria patients. I have had a month in charge of the Tuberculosis program. I am a nurse, but first I am a daughter of Christ. I want all of my patients to be healthy, but I need them to be loved.  In the grand scheme of things, the love of Christ is stronger than any medicine I could ever give.