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.