Through the Eyes of a Child

For people looking from the outside into the world of hospice chaplaincy for children, it would seem as though we had a rough day today.  A nine year old girl I had spent quite a bit of time with passed away today.  It's hard to describe the experience as a whole, but I'm going to do the best I can here.  To understand my point of view, you have to first understand where these children have been, as opposed to where they are going.  Through the grace of God, I do the best I can to walk along these children, their families, and their caregivers, comfort them, console them, and bring them whatever amount of happiness I can during the absolute worst times of their lives.  The pain and fear these children face on a daily basis continues to amaze me.  They face procedures grown adults would not be able to get through, screaming and crying all the way, but they get through them.  They endure countless surgeries, endless side effects, and medications that make them unbelievably sick.  More often than not, their parents stay in the waiting room, crying, knowing their children are suffering, but they can't bring themselves to comfort their children because they can't bear to see their babies in pain.  It is a daily struggle for all concerned, ending only when the Lord decides to call his beautiful little servant home.

So, this is what the child is leaving behind.  If I am sad when a child dies, it's only for myself.  I grow to love each and every one of these children as if they were my own, and every time one of them dies, a small piece of my heart that belonged to that child dies right along with them.  I can't adequately describe the experience of watching a child when he is having his first look at Heaven with his own eyes.  There is a look of amazement and peace, unlike he has ever experienced on earth.  And yes, I am grateful for that.  I'm grateful God's faithful little servant is finally finding peace beyond anything he could have imagined.  I'm grateful to be able to see the children in peace and contentment, instead of in fear and in agonizing pain.  I am grateful he is out of pain, and I'm grateful he doesn't have to be afraid anymore.  And I'm grateful knowing, time and time again, that there is a beautiful and glorious place called Heaven; knowing that, whatever I experience here on earth, will eventually melt away and I will be renewed in His love mercy and grace in a place so beautiful and peaceful I can't even begin to comprehend the extent of it.

Perspective

A few nights ago, I experienced one of the worst stomach aches I've ever had in my life.  I couldn't even stand or really walk without assistance.  Fortunately for me, my ever faithful house manager, Violet, was there to help me to the nearby hospital, where I was diagnosed with malaria and typhoid.  For a short period of time I was left alone, because Violet had to go back to the house to get some money.  During that time I was scared, alone, and in a lot of pain, with nothing to do but look at the ceiling.  Even during this time, my thoughts turned to my patients.  I realized this is what they must be feeling on a daily basis.  It was humbling.  As of late, ?I've been way too wrapped up in my own issues and difficulties.  Sometimes, when I'm in the thick of selfishness and self centerness, the Lord allows me to go through potentially dangerous situations far enough to get me humble, but not so far that I would experience the worst possible outcome of said dangerous situation.  I'm praying that one of these days

Wear the Yellow Tee Shirt

So, I have this yellow tee shirt in my closet.  I love it.  It's a little baggy, has some pretty funky designs...just my style.  But...I hardly ever wear it.  Why, you may ask?  I'll tell you...I'm a klutz and am afraid of spilling something on it.  A few weeks ago, I wore the tee shirt, and, lo and behold, I spilled something on it.  But here's the clincher...I washed it, and it became clean!

It made me think of how many times we miss out on incredible things because of what "might" happen.  I know, for me, nine times out of ten what I worry about never happens.  I can honestly say I didn't have any reservations or worries about giving up everything I own and moving to Africa.  Other people did, of course, but I was ready to go.  Now, if I had known then what I know now, things may have been a little different.  But, I thank God for my nativity.  At the end of the day, I love living here.  This is my corner of the world, and where I'm supposed to be.  If I had let the fear of others rule my life and my decisions, I might not have ever come (although God does have a way of making sure His plans are carried out, regardless of circumstance).  When I think of how much I would have missed out on if I had stayed in the states, it makes me shudder.  I would have missed out on learning some of the most important and meaningful lessons of my entire life.  I would have missed knowing some of my most closest friend whom I consider to my my second family.  I would have missed the indescribable experience of growing in God's love, mercy and grace, and sharing His love with others.  I dare say I would have missed the opportunity to find myself, and my place in the world.  Of course, bad things have happened to me.  But, at the end of the day, it doesn't matter.  The experiences I have had and am having every day easily trump any sort of hassles or troubles I might have to deal with.  I wouldn't do anything differently.  Don't be afraid to wear the yellow tee shirt.  Whatever happens, it's worse not to try.

Realities of Satan

"Satan was sitting in my living room!"  Sounds like a tabloid headline, huh?  I know, to some of you, what I'm about to say might sound a little crazy.  That's OK-I'm willing to be labeled a nut if it will get my story out there and help at least one other person.

I'm here to tell you, satan is real, and yes, he indeed was sitting in my living room.  Sometimes, my head moves forward before my heart.  A lot of the time that can be a good thing.  But sometimes, it can get me in a lot of trouble.  I met a woman last week, in a support group we both attended.  She chased me down after the meeting, and told me she was homeless and needed a place to stay.  In my heart, I felt I needed to pray about it.  But, my head won out over my heart, and sh came to stay with me that evening.

Almost immediately, two of my dogs became violently ill, and I had a bad headache.  I still hadn't equated it having anything to do with my visitor.  The longer she stayed, the worse things became.  First Samson got sick, then Boss.  The headaches were getting worse and worse.  I needed help.  So I did what I do best- I prayed and asked the Lord for guidance..  I found information online about a drug rehabilitation close to my home, and left to go look for it.  I spent about forty five minutes on the back side of a motor bike, going up and down the road, looking.  Finally, we stopped on the side of the road, and asked someone where it was.  He didn't know, but a man that was walking to work overheard our conversation, and told us it had been shut down.  He then told me that he and his wife operated a rehab, and asked me to join him to check it out.  

So, we went and chatted for a bit.  I found out his name was Benji.  I liked Benji right away.  He was easy to talk to.  He was kind.  He was real.  He spoke the truth, and was non-judgmental.  We ended up just sitting and talking for almost an hour.  He allowed me to freely talk about the cultural stress I had been experiencing, and I was very appreciative of that.

Eventually, we ended up back at the house to talk to my visitor.  During this conversation, a whole different side of her came out.  She was vulnerable.  She was crying.  She revealed some very difficult things she went through in her past.  She told us no one had ever trusted her or given her anything before.  I believed her.  Benji believed her.  We really wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, just as we had been given a long time ago.  After the meeting, we arranged home visits and I walked Benji to the stage.

She was a different person when I came home.  She very suddenly became non compliant with the treatment plan.  She was tearing down Benji, and she was tearing down me.  She looked me in the eye and told me I wasn't qualified for what I was doing.  She tried desperately to confuse me.  She twisted my words.  And she pointed out every single thing she thought was wrong with me.  She tried to convince me that only she had authority and she knew what she was talking about.  It was like I was in a trance.  I literally had to say to her I was no longer participating in the conversation, and I had to leave.  I received guidance from a loving and trusted friend, and I asked her to leave.  As we were walking down the road, she kept trying to confuse me.  She kept trying to go back because she claimed she forgot something.  In the mean time, i felt like I had the armor of God protecting me as none of what she was trying to do had any effect.  I could see the frustration in her eyes and on her face as she was realizing what she was trying to do was not working anymore.  I don't think Benji knows how much he helped me today.

Things immediately changed for the better now that she's gone.  My headaches are gone.  The dogs are as good as new.  Even Annabelle the goat is giving milk again.  It seems calm and serene in the house once again, and that's the way it should be.  After she left, i learned from my house manager than another woman who was visiting this week had only spent a few minutes with this woman, and she knew there was something evil about her.  I learned that this woman had screamed at my house girl, threatened to beat her, and threatened to hurt her if she told me.  And I'm sure there are things I still don't know about.  I'm going to have to rethink my strategy for admitting women to Sophie's Place.  I'm going to be needing people who have gone before me to advise me and guide me.  And I definitely still need people praying for me.  Without a doubt it was  very scary experience.  But I'm choosing to focus on the fact that, for satan to actually come into my home, I must be doing something very right.  I have to be going on the right path.  I learned today that God's grace, mercy and love is all I need to face my fears, and move forward in His plan for me to share His love, mercy and grace.

The Realities of Satan

"Satan was sitting in my living room!"  Sounds like a tabloid headline, huh?  I know, to some of you, what I'm about to say might sound a little crazy.  That's OK-I'm willing to be labeled a nut if it will get my story out there and help at least one other person.

I'm here to tell you, satan is real, and yes, he indeed was sitting in my living room.  Sometimes, my head moves forward before my heart.  A lot of the time that can be a good thing.  But sometimes, it can get me in a lot of trouble.  I met a woman last week, in a support group we both attended.  She chased me down after the meeting, and told me she was homeless and needed a place to stay.  In my heart, I felt I needed to pray about it.  But, my head won out over my heart, and sh came to stay with me that evening.

Almost immediately, two of my dogs became violently ill, and I had a bad headache.  I still hadn't equated it having anything to do with my visitor.  The longer she stayed, the worse things became.  First Samson got sick, then Boss.  The headaches were getting worse and worse.  I needed help.  So I did what I do best- I prayed and asked the Lord for guidance..  I found information online about a drug rehabilitation close to my home, and left to go look for it.  I spent about forty five minutes on the back side of a motor bike, going up and down the road, looking.  Finally, we stopped on the side of the road, and asked someone where it was.  He didn't know, but a man that was walking to work overheard our conversation, and told us it had been shut down.  He then told me that he and his wife operated a rehab, and asked me to join him to check it out.  

So, we went and chatted for a bit.  I found out his name was Benji.  I liked Benji right away.  He was easy to talk to.  He was kind.  He was real.  He spoke the truth, and was non-judgmental.  We ended up just sitting and talking for almost an hour.  He allowed me to freely talk about the cultural stress I had been experiencing, and I was very appreciative of that.

Eventually, we ended up back at the house to talk to my visitor.  During this conversation, a whole different side of her came out.  She was vulnerable.  She was crying.  She revealed some very difficult things she went through in her past.  She told us no one had ever trusted her or given her anything before.  I believed her.  Benji believed her.  We really wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, just as we had been given a long time ago.  After the meeting, we arranged home visits and I walked Benji to the stage.

She was a different person when I came home.  She very suddenly became non compliant with the treatment plan.  She was tearing down Benji, and she was tearing down me.  She looked me in the eye and told me I wasn't qualified for what I was doing.  She tried desperately to confuse me.  She twisted my words.  And she pointed out every single thing she thought was wrong with me.  She tried to convince me that only she had authority and she knew what she was talking about.  It was like I was in a trance.  I literally had to say to her I was no longer participating in the conversation, and I had to leave.  I received guidance from a loving and trusted friend, and I asked her to leave.  As we were walking down the road, she kept trying to confuse me.  She kept trying to go back because she claimed she forgot something.  In the mean time, i felt like I had the armor of God protecting me as none of what she was trying to do had any effect.  I could see the frustration in her eyes and on her face as she was realizing what she was trying to do was not working anymore.  I don't think Benji knows how much he helped me today.

Things immediately changed for the better now that she's gone.  My headaches are gone.  The dogs are as good as new.  Even Annabelle the goat is giving milk again.  It seems calm and serene in the house once again, and that's the way it should be.  After she left, i learned from my house manager than another woman who was visiting this week had only spent a few minutes with this woman, and she knew there was something evil about her.  I learned that this woman had screamed at my house girl, threatened to beat her, and threatened to hurt her if she told me.  And I'm sure there are things I still don't know about.  I'm going to have to rethink my strategy for admitting women to Sophie's Place.  I'm going to be needing people who have gone before me to advise me and guide me.  And I definitely still need people praying for me.  Without a doubt it was  very scary experience.  But I'm choosing to focus on the fact that, for satan to actually come into my home, I must be doing something very right.  I have to be going on the right path.  I learned today that God's grace, mercy and love is all I need to face my fears, and move forward in His plan for me to share His love, mercy and grace.

The Various Facets of Starvation

As much as I can figure, there are two facets of starvation.  The first facet, physical, we are all familiar with.  All we need to do is walk down the street, and we see several poignant examples of physical starvation in one city block.  The second facet of starvation is not so obvious.  It is one that is dangerously ignored with far too much frequency.  I'm talking about spiritual and psychological starvation.  Just because the belly is full, doesn't mean the same can be said for the heart and the soul.  How many times have you carelessly dropped a coin or two into a cup without actually getting down on the ground with the cup holder to pray for him or her?  How many times have you offered and unkind or harsh word for someone who hurt you, instead of prayer?  How many times have you clung onto past hurts, only to replay and act out those hurt feelings on other innocent people?

I'll be the first to admit, I have fell into this trap more times than I can count.  Very recently, someone I trusted hurt me very deeply.  Her behavior made me very angry, and bitter.  I wanted to hurt her, at least just as much if not more, than she hurt me.  There were many opportunities for me to do so, and I was chomping at the bit to just partake in one of them.  I'm here to say, I'm still struggling with this bitterness, and I'm still struggling with feelings of wanting to hurt her.  This bitterness and anger has been coming out sideways, onto innocent people who had absolutely no idea of my past hurts.  I'm living the greatest adventure of my life living in Africa.  But, it's also the hardest place I've ever lived.  I envy people who say its a breeze and don't seem to see or experience the issues I face.  Sometimes, I find myself starving for understanding, when all I can really do is accept the situation.  I find myself starving for acceptance of my behavior, and I have to accept that I am surrounded by people who can't sympathize or empathize with me because they have been behaving differently all of their lives.  I still have a difficult time wrapping my brain around the fact that scores of children are dying from common childhood illnesses that are easily cured in the US, because they are being denied medication simply because their parents can't afford it.  It's hard.  But, the beauty of the situation is this:  when I am spiritually and/or psychologically starving, when I feel lost, when I feel broken, I can turn it over to God.  No matter what I've said, done thought or felt, when I turn to Him, I am welcomed with open arms at His bountiful table, and I am filled up with His love, His mercy, and His grace.  Unlike the physical starvation that can never really be quelled, the cessation of spiritual starvation is immediate.  So, ladies and gentlemen may I have your attention please: STOP focusing solely on the physical starvation.  Focus instead on filling yourself up with the Holy Spirit.  Rely on Him for your daily recommended intake of doses of spirituality.  Don't just put coins in the cup.  Tell the person God loves them.  Don't turn away from your enemy with a bitter heart, and don't spoke to him or her with a harsh tongue.  Tell him you will pray for him.  Tell the people you're helping about God, what He has done for You, and what He can do for others.  If given the choice, I would rather be physically than spiritually starving.  Keep yourself spiritually satisfied in food of the Holy Spirit, and share Him with others.  Unlike earthly food, there is always more than enough spiritual food to share, and everyone who receives it comes away satisfied and full.

Martyrdom

When I first began my journey of healing several years ago, the word "martyr" was thrown around a lot.  I hated it.  I felt offended and angry when people referred to me as a martyr.  I refused, as they say, to see the forest for the trees and focused on how it hurt me, not on how my behavior was affecting others.

Lately, the word "martyr" has been coming up again.  Not by anyone else, but by the realizations the Holy Spirit has shard with me about my behavior.  For me, the term "martyr" has always been a difficult concept to understand.  I always assumed being a martyr was a good thing.  I thought that it showed a lot of love for people when you sacrifice your own personal peace and happiness for the good of someone else.  As of late, I'm beginning to realize that is not exactly true. I've been feeling "off" lately.  I still do the things I've always done, but not with as much enthusiasm or joy.  My work at the hospital has really been bringing me down.  In the past three months, we've lost six innocent children to a vile, ugly, disgusting disease known as cancer.  It's been hard.  It's been emotionally draining.  And it's been negatively affecting the way I've lived my life outside of the hospital.  I can't deny anymore that it hasn't.  When it came to my patients I have, in every sense, been a martyr.  I've needed to take a break from the hospital for a long time, but my perceived loyalties to my patients, my ministry, and my supporters has prevented me from doing so.  I've since realized these were only excuses, and the only real loyalties I have are to take care of myself so I can help others.    That said, I'm taking an extended leave of absence from the hospital for spiritual, psychological, and physical respite.  Satan has tried his best to convince me that he has won, as I am going to be spending time away from the hospital, like he's always wanted me to do.  But, the Holy Spirit, in His infinite and powerful wisdom, has helped me realize that satan has absolutely not won.  If I keep going the way I've been going, he will have won.  The depression, anger and burn out I've felt in regards to my work at the hospital was beginning to consume my entire life.  I wasn't focusing on other parts of my ministry I'd like to see build and grow, and I was neglecting my other responsibilities.  It wasn't just affecting me; it was affecting others who depend on me and the services my ministry provides.  it's been a tough month.  However, I'm looking at it in a positive light.  As with any difficult situation, the lessons come with the experience and living.  Many times, we go through difficult situations because we can't learn what we need to learn any other way.  There's much to be learned in experiencing this situation.  I need to take care of myself before I can take care of anyone else.  If I ever feel like I am doing something out of obligation and it is damaging me in some way, I need to step away and take a break.  I need to start practicing what I preach and realize it's OK to take respite when things are rough.  For these lessons, I am truly grateful.

Wanted to Believe......

This past weekend, I visited the children in the cancer ward.  It was the first time I had visited since little Pendo passed away.  I wanted to believe that it wouldn't be a problem for me going back.  In fact, I didn't have any negative feelings going to the ward at all.....

Then I got there.  I acted my usual silly, goofy, funny self, loving on the kids, playing with them, and showing God's love for them.  But something was a little off that day.  I had brought a volunteer with me, and while I was giving her a tour, I went by all of the places Pendo and I shared our time together.  Although in my mind I know she has gone, I could see her in her bed, fighting for her life.  That day another one of my little ones was having a difficult time, undergoing painful and frightening treatments.  I'll be honest, as I was holding him and comforting him, the one thought I had was: how much longer can I do this?  How much longer can I stand idly by and hear their screams, and watch them die?  How much longer?

The quick answer is: for as long as I have to.  This is hard.  I know too darn many of these children.  Even though I know to be with the Lord was ultimately what was best for them, I miss them so much.  I feel like I am forever in various stages of the grieving process.  Just when I think I have it licked, another child dies.  It's a difficult, never ending cycle with no beginning and no end.  I just thank God that I have a strong support system of therapists, fiends, and chosen family to support me through the difficult times through prayer and fellowship.  God knows I can't do this alone.

I Chose to Live

I don't remember much about the day I had my accident; mainly because, through the grace of God, I was unconscious through most of it.  The only information I have of the incident is what has been relayed to me first hand.  I don't remember what season it was, but I do remember it was a cold night in Indiana.  Armed with my little chihuahua in my backpack, I was riding my moped without wearing a helmet.  Apparently, I attempted to drive through a yellow light that has just turned red as I was going through the intersection.  A woman driving a mini van on the opposite side of the intersection didn't see me, and proceeded to continue on through the green light after coming off of the highway.  I t-boned her on the passenger side of the vehicle.  My head hit the window, and I blacked out instantly.

The next thing I remember was sitting in a field with my father, Peter, who had died of cancer several years earlier.  The field was on a cliff, and it was overlooking the largest and most beautiful lake I had ever seen.  For a while we didn't speak; we enjoyed watching the sunset in the silence and tranquility of the moment.  My father looked more peaceful than I had ever remembered him to be.  He still wore the same glasses he had worn almost his entire adult life, but only so I would be able to recognize him.  He had no need for them where we were, other than for me to know who he was.  He looked at me and told me I had a choice.  I could stay where we were and be with him and God, or I could go back to where I had been.  He told me God still had a lot of work for me to do.  But if I chose to stay where I was, that was alright, too.  I could stay and be welcomed without anger, disappointment, or malice.  I asked him, if I returned, how it would be for me.  I didn't want to live in a vegetative state, mentally incapacitated, or paralyzed.  Dad said he couldn't tell me how it was going to be for me.  But no matter what happened, I would still have the ability to fulfill God's purpose for me and share God's love, mercy and grace with others who desperately needed it.  I loved my father very much and missed him terribly.  It would have been so easy for me to choose to stay with him and be with God.  But in my heart, I knew the right decision to make.  From personal experience, I knew what it was like to be redeemed in God's love, mercy and grace from the absolute pit of self-pity, depression, and emotional hell.  The only way I knew to thank God for saving me was to honor His request to be His vessel in doing the same for others.  I embraced my father, savoring the moment of feeling small again in his loving and protective arms.  I whispered that I would see him again, and I made my decision.

The doctor couldn't believe he was talking to me.  I hit my head twice; once on the window and once on the pavement.  In both instances, I hit my head on the spot where a head can be hit with no lasting or permanent affects.  I had no broken bones, or internal injuries.  I wasn't paralyzed.  The only lasting effect was a few staples in my scalp.  I still carry the scar to this day, and I don't mind.  It's a permanent reminder of the day the Lord blessed me with a choice.  When times are especially hard, it's there to remind me of the decision I made and motivates me to continue moving forward.  I am convinced that if I had chosen to stay with my father, I wouldn't have lived through the incident.  But that's not the decision I made.  I chose to honor God, despite my fear of the consequences of my actions.  I chose to live.

Christine

The house seems to be a little more quiet and empty without Christine.  There was a lot of time, money and effort involved in having Christine in my home, but I wouldn't trade the experience for anything.  I miss her.  It broke my heart having to return her to her home in the slums.  The anger, guilt and grief were so acute that it was difficult for me to function.  All I really could do was pray.  I prayed for a day or two about the situation, and asked others to pray for me and for Christine as well.  I actually had contemplated bringing Christine to Sophie's Place to live until she died.  Ultimately, the Lord helped me come to the decision to continue giving Christine hospice care in her own home.  It wasn't an easy decision to make.  It would have been so easy for me to just swoop down like a superhero, gather her up and bring her here.  But in my heart, I knew that was not what God wanted.  I didn't know why God didn't want that for her.  For a while, satan was beating on my ego and trying to convince me that the reason God didn't want her here was because God felt I couldn't handle it, or because I was selfish and didn't want the responsibility.  I do admit that part of my decision was based on the fact that it would be very difficult and risky for me to have a Kenyan die in my home.  Part of me was afraid of the ramifications and backlash.  However, as always, God's amazing love and grace helped me see the bigger picture beyond myself and my circumstances.  Once again I have humbly learned, it's not all about me.
Christine is now going to have a myriad of women, all different ages and different walks of life, bringing all different kinds of gifts and talents, surrounding her, loving her, praying for her, and supporting her.  Women from all over the world will come to share God's love, mercy and grace.  If I am to be completely honest, I don't believe Christine could have received the full magnitude of benefits from the experience if she had stayed at Sophie's.
Every single encounter I have with a dying person brings with it a wealth of knowledge and insight that is more valuable to me than any other gift I have ever received.  I was so angry when the hospital refused to admit Christine.  I knew God had a reason, but I couldn't see it.  Now I know.  Her body was not meant to be healed; it was her heart and her spirit that needed the healing.  Whatever God chooses for Christine, she will know she is loved.  She will get to experience God's unconditional love in such a way that she couldn't experience any other way than where she is right now.  Christine taught me that we are never alone in our desires to share God's love, mercy and grace to help heal each other.  We are all part of the healing process.  Loneliness and aloneness are very potent and very dangerous tools of satan to deter us from God's plan.  Not only because the task before us might seem daunting and insurmountable.  But also because, in taking on the task ourselves, we readily dismiss the God given gifts and talents of others when we try to do things on our own.  By ignoring the gifts and talents of others, we prevent the Holy Spirit from displaying its full potential of unconditional love, mercy and grace.  Not only for the affected person, but also for the many people involved in the caring and sharing.
This week, the enemy socked me in the stomach with guilt, shame and remorse.  He tried to beat me down.  And he tried to beat Christine down. But, at the end of the day, God's love, mercy and grace won, as it always does, and we are all stronger for the experience. We are all precious in the eyes of the Lord.  To believe anything else is not God's will for us.  Nothing, nothing done in God's favor is ever done in vain.  Absolutely no amount of giving, big small or in between, is ever wasted.  It may not be God's will to heal Christine's body.  But He is healing her heart and her spirit through the unconditional love, mercy and grace of an amazing group of women we are so blessed to have on this earth.
   "Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised,"
-Proverbs, 31:30

Not So Brave......

My friend's daughter and I went to go visit our little Pendo yesterday.  Pendo had not been doing well for several months, and over the past few days she had declined pretty rapidly.  As we were walking to the hospital, I mentioned to my friend's daughter, Morrie, how the walk to the hospital to find out if a patient has died is one of the worst walks I'll ever take.  It's never a pleasurable thing to see if you will be walking into a room to find a suffering patient, or an empty bed.  We found Pendo's bed empty.  I didn't even need to ask the nurses; I knew she was dead.  Although I am grieving the absence of this beautiful and spirited child, I am so grateful that God answered our prayers and that sweet baby isn't suffering anymore.  The progression of her illness and death was by far the worst I have ever seen; even worse than my father's death.  I remember the day Pendo and I met.  She was fighting to get out of the cancer ward, and eventually she was fighting me as I held her and prayed for God to give her peace.  At that moment, I saw all of her fear and anger leave her, and it never returned.
During the last few months of her life, she was in a tremendous amount of pain.  I couldn't touch her anywhere on her body that didn't make her wince in agony, and eventually it was difficult for her to even lie in bed.  The only place I could touch her that didn't cause her pain was the top of her head.  I swear, I must have rubbed a bald patch on the child's head!
The thing I'm most grateful for is that she died feeling and knowing she was loved.  I didn't see her the day she died.  I was thinking about going that day, but I was so emotionally and spiritually tired that I had to stay home and rest.  I did manage to see her the day before she died.  She was in and out of consciousness, and wasn't aware of her surroundings.  She was also hallucinating, much in the same way my father was shortly before he died.  Shortly before I left her, God blessed Pendo with a very brief moment of clarity.  She emerged quite suddenly from wherever she had been.  She was conscious and aware of her surroundings, and was able to ask for water and juice.  I used those moments to tell her over and over that God loved her, her friends and family loved her, and I loved her.  I'm so grateful the last thing I said to her was that I loved her.
It's funny.  Despite the fact that my heart is sad today, I am able to rejoice in all the blessings God provided wrapped up in my experiences with the little girl.  And even though I am sad, I can still fell God's love all around me.  His love is a warm and comfortable blanket for me today.  I can be sad; I don't have to be happy all the time.  I can feel my feelings and be comforted by God's grace and mercy.
So many people tell me I'm an angel and I have a lot of strength to minister and assist children who are sick and dying in making their transitions from this earthly world into the waiting arms of the Father.  But oh, if you could just know these kids.  If you could just understand their courage.  They are the strong ones.  At the end of the day, I get to come home to a comfortable house, a full, hot meal a warm, soft bed, security.  The kids have to live day in and day out not knowing if the friends they are playing with today are going to be there to play with them tomorrow.  They are the ones who have to endure painful and frightening medical procedures all alone, with no comfort or support.  They are the ones who have to listen to the screams and cries of their friends as they go through the same.  They are the ones who have to see their friends lying dead in their hospital beds, and they are the ones who have to watch their friends being wheeled away, covered in a sheet.  They are the ones who have to worry and wonder every single day if they are going to be the next ones on that stretcher.
I'm not brave for working with these children; it is God's calling for me so my love for them and desire to support them comes easily and naturally.  I am the one who is so incredibly, incredibly blessed for knowing them.  I learn so much from them.  They readily give the purest and most unconditional form of love.  If I had one tenth of the guts that these kids have to endure what they go through on a daily basis and still have the ability to laugh, smile and find the joy in living, I most certainly would have accomplished so much more with my life than what I have accomplished up to this point.  My life changed forever when these kids came into my lives.  It continues to change my life for the better, every moment I know them.  I love these kids with all my heart, and I want to thank you for loving them, too.

Crying's for Girls!!!!!

Crying is for babies.  Crying is for people who are weak.  You don't want to let anyone see you cry because people don't like to be burdened with other people's problems.  Buck up.  Be strong.  These and other anomalies have been reiterated to children time and time again.  When I was a kid, one of my favorite things was the record, Free to Be...You and Me.  I remember one song in particular.  It was sung by Rosey Grier, who, along with being an ordained Christian minister, just happened to be a very talented football player.  The guy was huge, outside as well as the heart he carried for children.  The song was called, It's Alright to Cry, basically portraying that message.  It's alright to cry.  It's alright to let go and just let God.  How did we as a society stray so far from this concept in less than thirty years?  How did we convince ourselves, and then our children, that we must allow emotions to stay and fester inside of us causing so much damage, rather than spend an hour or so having a really good cry, thereby take a huge step in the healing process?  I'm not ashamed to admit this: I cry at least once per week.  Not because I'm depressed, or a cry baby, or a sad sack, or any other name that you might want to throw at me.  I cry because, plain and simple, my field of ministry is emotionally taxing.  And let's be honest, living in a foreign country can be emotionally taxing, too.  So my way of coping with the stress is to cry.  I don't need to be comforted.  I don't need to be told everything is going to be alright.  I am already comforted by the act of crying, and I know that everything will be alright because I have given it to God.  Don't ever be afraid to cry.  God counts and collects each and every one of our tears and gladly takes our burdens as our own, so that we may show His love, mercy and grace to those who need it.

Facing Your Fears (Even in the cold!!!)

It can be a huge misconception that the weather in Africa is unbearably hot most of the time.  We only have  have two seasons here: the rainy season and the dry season.  It does get hot, yes, but when you wake up in the morning, inevitably you are almost always faced with a cold day.  I'm not talking about a little chilly....I mean it's so cold you can see your breath.  I try to leave the house around eight o clock in the morning, right in the thick of the coldness.  Although the coldness can be more than I can bear at times, especially living in the hills, during the dry season I never bring any sort of jacket with me.  I rely on the fact that, within an hour or two, the sun will brighten and warm everything around me, and I won't need it. And 99.9% of the time, I am right.  The sun comes out, everything is warm, and I don't have the extra load of carrying around something I don't need.

How many of us are carrying around things we don't need?  Things we are afraid to give up because of what "might" happen?  There is a lesson I seem to be in constant need of reminding.  First and foremost, my mind has the uncanny ability of immediately jumping to the worst case scenario, the magnifying it times twenty.  And things are never as bad as they seem.  Secondly, the things I'm carrying around that need to be laid at the feet of God are not the things I need.  I may think I need them but, when I am finally ready to lay my burden down, God shows me that the things I thought I needed were things I never needed at all.  In fact, these things were hurting me instead of helping me.

There is a major part of my life that has left an important piece of me broken. It has prevented me from fully sharing His love, mercy and grace He has been so desperately trying to give to me all these years because it has prevented me from fully receiving it. I have clung onto this part of my life for so long, it's become like a security blanket.  I almost don't know who I am without it.  Through my journey of healing, change and growth, God has, in His ever kind, loving and gentle manner, shown me the things I need to give to Him.  This part of my life has festered in my soul for years, preventing me from changing and growing in my faith.  Over time, I have used people, places and things to balm the wound, but it has never truly healed because I never wanted to give it up.  That is the only true way for the soul to heal: you must give all of your wounds over to the Lord.  All of your pain, all of your hurt, all of your anger, all of your resentment must be given over to Him, fully and completely without reservation or hesitation.  That is why Jesus died on the cross for us.  He gave us the incredibly selfless gift of not only dying to pardon our sins, but also to take all of our hurt and pain upon Himself.  He gladly takes anything we want to give to Him; but therein lies the key, we want to have to give it to Him. He won't take anything that isn't offered to Him. Even though it is incredibly scary, I'm finally ready to give all of my hurt and anger to Him.  I'm ready to lay it down at His feet and be done with it.  I know what harboring resentment and anger and hurt can do.  I've seen lives destroyed because of it, and I refuse to allow satan to destroy my life.  Whatever happens to me from letting go of the anger and resentment cannot be any worse than harboring it inside.  

Now, here's the thing; just because I don't bring a jacket with me, I always bring an umbrella.  Even if there isn't a cloud in the sky, an umbrella is always by my side because you never know when it might rain.  The same can be said for laying down your burdens.  When you finally let go, you need to take with you the shield of the Lord to protect you.  The desire of the enemy is to destroy anything that is a pathway to God's love, mercy and grace, including God's children.  Plain and simple: we just can't completely and fully give ourselves to others and be clear pathways of God's love, mercy and grace if we are harboring things inside of us that are preventing us from receiving God's love in the first place.  I tried that for years, and I know others who have as well.  Please trust me when I tell you, it simply can't be done.  We can have all of the best intentions in the world; but if any one thing inside ourselves is preventing us from receiving the complete splendor of God's love, mercy and grace, how can we expect to be able to fully extend it to others?  It's like giving someone an expensive present with the part missing that needs to be there to make it work,  and expecting the person to fix it himself before he can use it.  There is a woman in my life who has walked closely with me on this journey of healing this part of me.  On Monday, we are going to light a fire and put all of my hurts, angers, and resentments into it and finally put this part of my life to rest, once and for all.  It's funny;  I thought I'd be too scared and stubborn to want any part of it.  But even though I've clung to this part of my life like a security blanket, I honestly and truly couldn't be happier to throw it away, once and for all.

"The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer, my shield and the horn of my salvation,". Psalm 18:2  That's all any of us really need to know.  

Going Home

I've been in the states, saying with my family in Massachusetts, for about a week now.  As time goes on, I'm realizing one of the biggest reasons I had to come back is because I had to make sure my tie living in the states in really over, and, if it was, I had to officially close the chapter on that part of my life.  It is over, and that's not a bad thing.  If I hadn't found my place in the world, a place to belong, a place to give to others, a place where I can be myself with no restrictions, boundaries, or expectations, I would have a much harder time with it.  But, praise God, I have a place in the world where I can not only have everything in the world I want and need, but I can also help others get what they want and need, too.  Nothing can be taken at face value; if it is, so much beauty is missed beyond the outer appearances.  We are capable of change, and of growth.  We don't have to just "settle" for anything.  Just because we say goodbye to one chapter and move onto another, doesn't mean we leave people and places behind.  They will always have a special place in our hearts and in our memories, and they will remain there forever.  OK, enough of the "fortune cookie" banter...time to get up and seize the day! (had to get one more in....)

So, here's the run down....

So, when I go back to the states, I'm going to be making a presentation about the ministry before returning to Kenya.  Many of you have been wondering what the ministry is all about, so I thought I'd share the transcripts of the presentation for anyone who is curious.  Enjoy and be blessed!

                                                Project Agape Love

Shortly after I returned to Kenya in February of 2012, I began volunteering as a hospital/hospice lay chaplain for Kenyatta National Hospital, Kenya’s largest government hospital, located in Nairobi.  After volunteering for several months, I began to take notice of a few things.  Due to a limited budget, patients were not receiving toiletries from the hospital.  They were simply given a basin of water every day to use for their cleaning and toileting needs.  Although their lack of cleanliness and their inability to properly take care of themselves was contributing to their depression and lack of self esteem, there was also a far more serious consequence taking place.    Subsequently, many patients with compromised immune systems due to AIDS and other catastrophic and chronic illnesses were dying because they were receiving illnesses from other patients, and also suffering from cross contamination due to improper hygiene and lack of sanitary living conditions.  Moreover, children who were patients of the hospital were living their lives void of any sort of amusement or comfort.  They were experiencing painful and traumatic medical procedures without any form of support.  They were being subjected to hearing their friend’s screams during these procedures, and watching their friends die around them.  Their parents and other family members are only allowed to visit during visiting hours, so most of the time the children were living these experiences alone and frightened.  Eventually the Lord helped me come to the decision that I could not volunteer at the hospital anymore without doing something to try to address these and other issues. 

 In October of 2012, I started a ministry called Project Agape Love.  The main focus group of the P.A.L. ministry is people of all ages who are in the process of dying, have life threatening illness or terminal illness, or are chronically ill.  In addition, P.A.L. also offers support services for family members of people who are sick and dying, and instructs patients and their families in ways to help and support each other, in addition to receiving support services through the ministry.

Project Agape Love is a holistic ministry focusing on the promotion of physical, mental, and spiritual health and wellness.  From personal experience, I know that when one of these areas is negatively affected, it has the very real potential of negatively affecting the other two areas as well.  The goal of Project Agape Love is to effectively minister to all three of these areas, thereby offering a holistic approach to healing.  In the past, the ways we have been addressing these three areas have included:

1.      We have had volunteers from all over the world help the ministry by organizing donations and visiting the hospital.  These countries include Korea, England, USA, Canada, Kenya, and Australia.

2.       Delivering healthy treats, such as bananas, to people who have been critically and severely burned to a point where they cannot do anything for themselves, and they need to be hand fed.  We also help feed them their meals.  Due to time constraints and the extensive patient to nurse ratio, often times patients are given their trays and simply left to fend for themselves.  For many of these patients, feeding themselves is an impossible task, as their bodies are so severely burned they might not be able to move, or their hands and arms are bandaged in such a way that they are rendered useless.

3.      Delivering toiletries including, but not limited to, soap, toothpaste and toothbrushes,  shampoo, and lotion to government hospital patients who do not receive these items from the hospital while they are patients.  The hope is that in receiving these items free of charge, it will not only promote self esteem, but also promote physical well being, thereby preventing the contraction of secondary infections.

4.      Children who have been critically burned, are living with HIV, AIDS, cancer and other catastrophic and chronic illnesses have received stuffed animals, books, and other toys.  The toys serve not only as entertainment, but also as a tangible way for the children to remember God’s love for them. 

5.      Bananas have also been delivered to several meetings of a support group for women living with HIV and AIDS.

6.      July 16^th 2012 will mark the opening of a holistic respite center named Sophie’s Place.  The goal of Sophie’s Place is to promote spiritual, physical and mental health wellness.  The services of this center will be available for women living with HIV and AIDS, cancer, and other catastrophic and chronic illness, and are living in unsanitary and unsafe conditions.  Currently, the center will be run from my home.  The women will be coming on Wednesday and Thursdays, one at a time from 9am to 4pm, to experience individualized care.  She will be receiving three organic, healthy meals prepared by an organic chef, and tea will also be available in the afternoon.  She will have her own private bedroom for sleep or meditation, which is called “Mama D’s Corner”.  The activities from which she can choose to do during the day include, but are not limited to:

a.       Lying in a hammock or on the grass

b.      Reading the bible or choosing a book to read that promotes healing from the Peter W. and Mark A. Johnson Memorial Library.

c.       Planting a flower or tree in a friend’s memory in the Rollins and Rupert Robinson Memorial Garden.

d.      Listening to relaxing music.

e.       Talking to me one on one.

f.       Taking a walk in or sitting in nature.

g.      Receiving a massage with scented oil or lotion.

h.      Having the opportunity to bathe in clean, warm water with scented soaps.

i.        Having nails painted.

In addition to these services, she will also be learning skills she can use to get her through difficult times in a healthy way.  Project Agape Love has partnered with Living Positive Kenya to initially provide these services to\ a pilot group of fifty women living with HIV and AIDS.  Each woman will have the opportunity to come to the center twice per year, with possible small, weekend retreats also available.

Some of the things for which we need donations:

A.    Transportation- Transportation to and from the center is going to be free of charge.  $30  per week should suffice for this.

B.     Food- I have received a very generous donations of services provided for an organic chef to prepare meals.  However, this is not completely free as she will be preparing the meals at cost.  $20-50 per week is enough to buy the ingredients needed for meals.

C.     Books- I like to spend approximately $15 dollars a week building the library.  In addition, books of any kind are also accepted.

D.    Lotions/ soaps etc: Approximately $15 dollars a week is needed to provide lotions and soaps.

In addition to Sophie’s Place, I will also be continuing the ministry at the hospital, and will continue needing donations for that.  As always, we appreciate all of your help and support.  It does my patients so much good to know how many people love them and support them.  We wish you all health and much happiness.  Be blessed!

There's got to Be More to Life Than This......

.....while I was living in the states, that is the thought I had, constantly.  There has to be more to life than this. While I was talking with a mentor yesterday, I realized that for the first time, I haven't had that thought once since moving to Kenya.  A woman shared with me a story yesterday. It was a parable from the book The Dream Giver.  A man named Ordinary lived in the land of Familiar.  Every day was routine.  He would go to work, go out for drinks with friends, the come home.  One day, he found a white feather, and he didn't know what to do with it.  His father told him that he had once found a white feather, and hadn't done anything with it.  The white feather was a his dream.  His father told the man to do something with the white feather, for him.

I truly feel like I have found my white feather here in Kenya.  It's an incredibly scary and daunting thing, putting down roots in another country, thousands of miles away from everything comfortable and familiar.  After this furlough to the states, I don't know when I will be able to go back.  I know it will not be at least for several months, as I will have to save up again.  And if things go sour here, I stand to loose so much.  My ministry, my friends, my dogs, my home, basically, the life I've worked so hard to create for myself.  These thoughts and fears have been running through my mind constantly.  Initially, it would be easier to just stay in the states, and let's be honest, probably a lot safe, too.  However, sometimes "easier" and "safer" isn't always "better".  I've always loved the underdog, and stand up and cheer when the rise from adversity.  For me, the movie Rudy is the best example of that.  One of my favorite quotes from the movie is when he is leaving his best friend's funeral.  He tells his fiance that he's going to south Bend, to try to get into Notre Dame and play football, or he will never be good enough for her, or for himself.  Long before I knew I was going to be moving to Kenya, my dream was to open a no cost hospice/respite center.  Through His unimaginable mercy, grace, and love, God has presented me with the opportunity to live my dream.  God never gives us anything unless we ask for it, and He never forces anything on us.  He gives us opportunities, and then gives us the option to either take those opportunities or ignore them.  The one thing I know is this: Despite all of my fears, reservations, and concerns, if I don't use this opportunity the Lord has provided me to the best of my ability, and carry it out as far as it possibly can go, I will never be good enough for myself.  I will never be good enough for anyone else.  I will spend the rest of my life wondering if I could have done it, if I gave up too soon, if I gave into fear.  And even though life in Kenya can at times be uncomfortable and sometimes even downright scary, I realized I can't live the rest of my life wondering.  God gave me this incredible gift of a passion for loving people who are sick and dying, and having the opportunity to do so.  It is my responsibility to use this gift to the very best of my God given ability.  Anything else is simply unacceptable.

Such are the Dreams of a Corporate Woman

So last night I had a dream.  I dreamed I was back in the office again, working at a computer and making a comfortable living.  I'm going to be very honest here.....at times, the thought of going back to that lifestyle appeals to me.  I've always found myself successful at jobs where I know the rules.  There's a right way to do something, and there's a wrong way to do something.  There's never really any sort of panic involved in having to put out little fires every day.  It's routine.  It's predictable.  And, let's face it, in a land of constant unpredictability, expecting something and it actually being the way you expected it sounds pretty good to me.  Especially on the days where there isn't any power or running water.  But I also know that lifestyle of predictability was sucking the life out of me.  I was excelling at my job, I loved my co workers and they loved me, I was making enough money to live a very comfortable lifestyle and was even in the process of taking classes to get a promotion.  But I wasn't happy.  The things I deal with on a daily basis are hard.  People get sick and die.  Extreme poverty unlike I have ever seen is constantly and endlessly abounding.  There is an merciless amount of corruption, greed, and violence.  Without a doubt, this is the most difficult place I have ever lived in my entire life.  Yet, the remarkable thing is, despite this, I have never been happier. Living in God's purpose makes all of the other things look like gravy.  Yes, going through these thing is difficult.  Sometimes, it's so difficult I find myself longing for an airplane and a ticket back to the states.  But then I think of all that I would miss if I chose to go back to being safe.  I would miss working in God's purpose for me.  I would experiencing all of the miraculous and wondrous ways He manages to untangle even the most seemingly impossible problems, in ways better than I ever could have imagined.  I would miss finding out who I am capable of being, not by my possessions but by my character.  I would miss seeing God's love, mercy and grace transform seemingly helpless individuals into givers of light.  I would miss the glory of God in all of its amazing and incredible splendor.  And for me, being "safe" is not worth sacrificing even one of those things, let alone all of them.  The rewards I reap here far outweigh any sort of uncomfortable situation I might experience.  Some people think i'm crazy for wanting to live my life here.  And I can understand that.  From an outsider's point of view it may seem like a very dangerous and difficult place to set up shop.  But the way I see it is this....how can I even think of living anywhere or doing anything else?  Nothing is better than today....nothing is more perfect than this moment.

Karibu Sophie's Place!

"Then Jesus said, 'Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28

For about three months now, I have felt the Lord calling me to expand my ministry.  Some of you many know that my ultimate goal for the ministry is to provide hospice services for women who are dying of AIDS and other catastrophic illnesses, are homeless and have been abandoned by their friends, families, and even their churches.  However, I am also a realist.  God has shown me time and time again that I must learn to crawl before I learn to walk.
That said, when I return from the states in July, I would like to forge ahead with the opening of Sophie's Place.  Sophie's Place is named for my great grandmother, Sophia Dietrich, and my grandmother, Juliette Sophia Dietrich Robinson, two Christian women who were the kindest women I have ever known.  It only seemed fitting to name this place after them.  The intent of Sophie's Place is to provide women with an opportunity to have respite from their household responsibilities and rest from the burdens of their illnesses for two days per month. The plan is for one woman at a time to come to my home at nine o'clock in the morning, and leave at four.  During this time she will have the opportunity to have three full, healthy meals and choose from a wide variety of activities including:

1. Having her own private bedroom for rest and contemplation.

2. Lying in the hammock or on the grass.

3. Reading from the bible or from a wide variety of books.

4.  Listening to relaxing music.

5.  Receiving a foot massage with lotions and/or scented oils.

6.  Watching a movie.

7.  Going for walks or meditating in nature.

8.  Spending one on one time with me, talking about hopes, dream, fears, or anything else.

9.  Each woman will receive her own journal to take with her when she leaves.

10. Possible pet therapy

As you may imagine, this is going to take some money.  However, not nearly as much as you might think.  The first priority I have is a need for a one time $50 donation to buy a mattress, bed frame, blankets, pillows and sheets.  Believe it or not, $50 will buy all of that.  I'm going to be needing weekly donations of $20 for transportation to and from the center, and a weekly donation of about $40 for food, soaps, lotions, etc.  And really, that's about it.  If you'd like to help out,it would be such a blessing and I would love to hear from you. Be blessed!

                                                       Karibu Sophie's Place!

Caleb

Little Caleb.  And when I say little Caleb, I mean little Caleb.  He was one of the littlest guys in the children's cancer ward.  He was always a silent warrior of neuroblastoma.  I never heard him complain, and I never saw him cry.  His eyes always held a gentle, sweet sadness.  Any questions you asked him always got the same reply: "Caleb".  How are you today?  Caleb.  Would you like a sweet?  Caleb.  The thing I remember most about Caleb is that, despite the fact that both of us could not understand each other's language, it didn't matter.  The love we shared easily broke through all communication barriers and we knew what we were saying.  His little body fit so easily into my embrace.  He allowed me to hold him for hours, singing to him, rubbing his back, kissing his cheek.  He silently and completely absorbed all of the love and comfort I could give to him.  He would wrap his little arms around my neck or my waist and hug me just as long as I was hugging him.  Caleb taught me that love doesn't need to come with a price tag, or grandiose gestures.  Sometimes, a simple hug and holding onto the ones who mean the most in our lives do just fine.

Loving Unconditionally

I met a new friend this past week.  Her name is Carly*, and she's from the US.  When I first met her, I thought she was very nice and gracious (she introduced herself and then immediately invited me to lunch), and she reminded me a lot of me when I first came to Kenya.  Very naive, VERY excitable, a little immature, and thinking I didn't need any sort of instruction whatsoever with living in the culture or living among Kenyan people.  She asked to accompany me to the hospital, so I invited her to go with me yesterday.  While we were in the hospital, I saw her change before my eyes. I wanted to make sure she wouldn't have a lot of surprises, so I talked with her about the things she may see and experience before we went.  The very first thing we did is something I do once or twice a week: we hand fed bananas to people who are so severely burned, they can't move.  Up until that moment, Carly had been volunteering in an orphanage.  Don't get me wrong; orphanages are great and of course they are necessary.  However, I feel that in some, they might not offer the true depth of the difficult reality of the plight of Kenyan people.  When faced with the bare bones of the harsh and brutal realities of Kenya staring back at her, I saw her change.  It was a surprise, but also such a delight to see.  She found an inner strength inside herself that she never knew was there.  She was compassionate, loving, kind and humble.  She no longer felt like she knew everything, and she asked a lot of good questions.  Most importantly, she showed the patients that, despite their situations that cause most folks to turn away in fear, underneath the burns and scars they are actual people who deserve to be loved, cared for, and treated with the same respect as anyone else. Throughout the six and a half months since its beginning, P.A.L. has hosted many volunteers from all over the world.  One of the joys for me is to see these beautiful transformations in people who come into the hospital one way, and emerge at the end of the day transformed.  I can talk about the hospital and my patients until I am blue in the face (seriously, I really can!), but it's like describing a color no one has ever seen before.  You can't know the true depth of what it actually means to share God's love with people until you've actually rolled up your sleeves and done it.  Until you've continued praying or comforting someone in pain among the screams, moans and cries of the other patients.  Until you've continued praying for someone despite having any number of bodily fluids unexpectantly being spewed across the room, and experienced God's protection being safely out of harm's way.  Until you've actually seen before your eyes the love of God fill a person's soul and relieve them from agonizing, unrelenting pain they had been experiencing moments before.  Until you see the beautiful joy and elation in their eyes when you tell them they aren't hurting anymore because you employed the simple solution of asking the Lord for help and He answered your prayer.  Until you feed someone who can't feed themselves.  Until you go to wherever a person is, be it on the floor, in a chair, on a bed, or in the street, and hold that person who feels completely unloveable and have their tears soak your shirt as you tell them they are loved, and loved unconditionally.  I really could write about this forever, but my depictions mean nothing unless you experience it first hand.

Feeling unconditionally loved by God and by others is all I could ask not only for my patients, but for everyone.  At the end of the day if people's interactions with me allow them to feel loved and worthy of love, it was a very successful day.  Apart from the fact that I have been passionate about the medical field my entire life, I think another reason why I am so passionate about my patients and am willing to dedicate my life to sharing God's love with them is because I know what it feels like to feel unloveable.  I also know what it feels like to experience unconditional love and the incredible changes in one's self than can come about from experiencing that.  I feel like I can do absolutely anything.  No dream or desire is too big for me and God to fulfill.  I want nothing more for my life than to help others feel this way, too.  There's an old adage we are fond of saying around here: Give a man a fish, and he will eat for a day.  Teach a man to fish, and he will eat for a lifetime.  I don't necessarily want to make other people's dreams come true.  I don't have the ability to do that, nor do I claim to. What I want for my patients is for them to know they have the power to make their own dreams come true.  I can only imagine the amazing, glorious changes this world would experience if everyone felt their big, beautiful dreams could somehow come true.  I've seen so many lives changed for the better because people believed they could make their dreams come true.  The common denominator in all of this is that we share unconditional love with others because we first experienced God's unconditional love for us.  When I think of how much  the Father loves all of us and the amazing things that love can do, it brings tears to my eyes. If we allow its natural flow in the order of our lives, the power of unconditional love has infinite possibilities.

*Name changed to protect privacy

Only the Strong Survive.....

DISCLAIMER: This entry is about a traumatizing incident involving a newborn baby boy.  If this subject matter offends you or makes you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.  Thank you.

So today, I was on my way to volunteer and give donations for an organization called Living Positive Kenya.  I was feeling pretty good, because I love these women.  They are all HIV positive, but they are happy, loving, kind and, most importantly surviving AND thriving.  I had to be accompanied by one of the ladies because I still did not know my way.  Shortly before we reached the building, my escort said to me, "I have to tell you there is a dead baby on the side of the road up ahead.  We have to use this road because there isn't any other road to use,".  She was so used to situations like this, it was like she was telling me about the weather.  I've heard of hundreds of these unfortunate babies born to mothers who couldn't take care of them and are dumped. But I had never seen one.  I asked her if she was sure the baby was dead.  She didn't know.  She also didn't know how long he had been there.  Apart from the fact that there really was no other way to travel than straight ahead, I also have medical training as an EMT, so I was praying I wasn't too late to save the baby's life.
I was too late.  Without going into all of the details, it was obvious to me from the moment I laid eyes on him that he had been dead for quite some time.  He was also lying in a garbage bag, tossed aside like discarded trash.  I cried out and stepped back so quickly I almost tripped over my own feet.  My reaction was automatic.  Throughout the two and a half cumulative years that I have been a hospital and hospice chaplain in Kenya, I've seen many, many people who have passed away.  Some were even babies.  But I had never seen anything, anything like this.  I was shaking, and I felt sick to my stomach.  I was advised to leave quickly before the police arrived, lest they think I had been involved in this baby's death in some way.  I said a quick prayer for the beautiful baby boy with the full of head of gorgeous, curly black hair, and went on my way.  About a half hour later I returned to see if he had been removed, and he had.

I promised myself from the beginning that I would be honest, so here it is: God has been whispering to my heart all day of the plight of the baby's mother.  How scared she must have been. How young. How inexperienced.  How desperate.  And I hear Him.  But I still can't help but feel angry, and even a little unsympathetic.  No matter what the circumstances, I can't wrap my brain around any form of justification as to why someone would do something like that.  Something is telling me that this baby's mother was very afraid that if she abandoned this child even to a reputable organizations that deal with this very problem, she would have been thrown in jail or forced to pay a bribe.  She wanted to see her baby be put in the arms of Jesus quickly rather than slowly, and with pain.  The possibilities are endless.  I named the baby Matthew, which means "gift from God", to remind myself and others that every single child is such a beautiful and precious gift from God, and, as such, they need to be loved and nourished and cared for.

After praying for bay Matthew, I proceeded to the center, gave out my donations, sang and prayed for the women there, and even gave a couple of the massages.  That is what we do.  We experience the situation, feel our feelings and process our emotions, cry if necessary, and then we move on.  I know it may make us appear to be cold and callus, but that is what we have to do to survive, and that is what we have to do to continue sharing God's love, mercy and grace with others who need it.  If we give in to chronic despair and depression in every situation that is handed to us, we will not be able to do God's good work, and satan will have won.  I cried with the program director after seeing baby Matthew. And I cried again in the bathroom of a medical clinic.  And I'm crying again right now as I am writing this.  And that's OK.  Through the tears I am still working for the glory of God.  Through all of the horrors and depressive circumstances I still believe we can and are changing the world one person at a time.  As long as there are people in the world who need God's love, mercy and grace, we will be there, regardless of circumstance.  This sin't just about feeding people, or loving them, or praying for them, or donating to them.  It is about finding a strength within you that you never knew you had, and using that strength to empower and change others.  Rest in peace, beautiful baby boy.  I will continue to share God's love, mercy and grace in your honor and memory.  You are loved.

Simple Pleasures

Earlier this evening, I was lying in my hammock, watching the sunset, and it occurred to me: God gave me such an awesome life.  Here I am, at the beginning of what could potentially be a very stressful time for me in planning my trip home, and through the grace of God, I'm calm.  I can enjoy this beautiful day the Lord has given me.  It wasn't so long ago, that wasn't the case.  It's taken me a long time to get adjusted to this new way of life.  I'm not just talking about living in a completely and thoroughly different culture, although I still find myself adjusting to that.  I'm talking about a life that did not include unmanageable amounts of stress and confusion each and every hour I was awake.  I used to thrive on drama and stress; now I really don't want any part of it.  I've lost some people in my life because I didn't want to deal with the constant drama.  However, I've also gained some pretty awesome people, too.  People who thrive not on drama, but serenity and peace.  Don't get me wrong; there are still times when my inner drama queen rears her annoying self, especially when there are constant stressors that trigger her appearance.  However, thankfully, those times are fewer and farther between (although these past few months have been a beaut and a half.  But, by God, I'm still standing).

I never, ever tire of the amazing love, grace and mercy of God.  He never ceases to amaze me in His love for  all of us.  Even in the sick and dying, He is able to give them joy, love and comfort.  Someone once told me that peace is always present, and can be found in any situation.  Sometimes it can be harder to find than others, but it is always there.  Sometimes, like in my living situation, you need to be proactive.  God was patiently waiting to give me everything I could ever want in a living situation in Kenya; however, I had to first be willing to want it for myself, too.  I had to love myself enough to believe that I deserved to live in an environment that is clean, safe, beautiful and quiet.  Once I let go and accepted that fact, everything else seemed to fall in place pretty quickly. Roughly two days after I started looking, I found the house of my dreams in the lower end of my price range, in a beautiful, quiet location.  Amazing.  The healing power of letting go.

Forest for the Trees....

It's difficult being a patient in the critical care burn ward.  Apart from the fact that they are in severe, constant, unyielding pain, often times their most basic needs fail to get met because their several different medical needs are time consuming.  So, one of the things I do is try and make sure their meals don't go cold and they get some hot food into their bellies.  Inevitably, every single time, the patient I am feeding gets frustrated with me because the portions on the spoon are too small, or I am not feeding them fast enough.  They all have their favorite foods.  Some like porridge, some like meat.  And when their favorite foods hit their mouths hot instead of cold, they can't get it into their mouths quick enough.  I always urge them to take it slow for a couple of reasons.  First, for many of them, their faces are severely burned so their mouths don't work as well as they did when they weren't burned, and I don't want them to choke.  But also, I am trying to urge them to savor the pleasurable experience of eating the hot food; something very rare in their lives.  I want them to notice the texture, the smell, the flavor, everything about the experience.  I want to also teach them that they can trust me, and I will be right there by their side until their stomachs are full and can't eat another bite.

I was thinking today how similar that is with me.  So often, I find myself only looking ahead at the goal.  I don't take the time to really notice all that is around me on the journey.  I remember, as a child, one year my parents drove us kids up to Disney World.  I was so excited with the anticipation of going to my favorite theme park that I didn't notice all of the wonderful things to see along the way.  It was only when I was older and made the same journey did I really notice the fun things to see.  I want to digest so much of the experience at one single time, I essentially choke and fail to really notice all of the beautiful details.

I ministered to a young man today who had been burned in his home by a couple of thugs.  They didn't take anything, they only burned him.  Presumably, they didn't steal anything because he made such a racket as he was being burned, but we will never know.  Today I managed to show up in the ward during the time when the patient's dressings were being changed.  I've always managed to enter the ward just before or just after, but today I was spot on.  His burns were horrific.  He was crying and moaning in pain.  He felt the thugs should have just killed him, and he felt the nurses didn't care for him because they were refusing to bandage his wounds.  This was not the case. The nurses have to be organized in their treatments, so they treat the patients according to their room location.  Unfortunately, this man's room was the second to last in the line.  I rubbed his shoulder, prayed with him, and sat and talked with him when he asked me to.  Before I left the ward, I checked in on him again.  The nurses were finally in his room, and he had a look of peace on his face for which I was very grateful. 

This is what God wants for us: He wants us to enjoy the journey.  He wants us to soak up every single detail, not just the end result.  When we are in pain or we don't understand why God is allowing us to experience something, we can have faith in knowing that everything will be OK.  Just hang on and have faith,a nd savor the journey. The salve, the balm, the good stuff, is just around the corner.