Holding my Horses...

I'm kinda going crazy here.
Allow me to explain.
It has been a month since I saw a birth. Now while that may not seem so huge for you, it is VERY dramatic for me. I mean, it's pretty much like being a baker, but not being allowed to touch flour. Or being an engineer and never seeing blueprints. It's like being being a clown with no balloons. Like being a salesman with nothing to sell. Or like trying to be a Flamer with no flame.
Wait what??!!
What is a flamer anyways?
Let me tell you, I had the same question.
It was a Monday morning, and things were going as usual at the clinic. I was on prenatals that day, doing vitals, educating women about health, measuring fundal height, asking questions, and filling out forms. One woman came in with her paper work, and I couldn't help but notice that her husband was a flamer. A welder? A fireman? I began to ask questions.
Again and again she repeated herself and tried to explain. Suddenly, it dawned on me. In Visayan, F=P, vowels are a little wishy washy, and silly them, they don't have the wonderful silent 'p' we have in English. (note the dripping sarcasm). There it was. Flamer = Plumber. Clearly!

So back to the going crazy thing. I am surrounded by birth, pregnancy, and newborns. I take care of women at various points in their pregnancy. I work multiple shifts per week in a maternity clinic. I read about birth and pregnancy every chance I get. I give baby baths, and breathe through contractions with women, I clean up blood, amniotic fluid, and everything else that the body can excrete, and I sterilize and fold and stack and stock. Between my travels a few weeks back, and a series of slow birth room shifts, it has been a month since I actually witnessed a baby being born. So I'm holding my horses here. Trying to trust that these unanswered prayers are for a reason. Trying to be content in the ways I DO get to serve.
And waiting.
It's been a struggle, honestly. My friends are all far beyond me in experience, and I don't step foot inside the clinic without that yearning. My heart wants to question why 8 babies are born one morning, and that night, when I'm on shift, there are none. Sometimes I feel like asking God if He can hear me. Often my throat chokes up when we transport another woman to the hospital, or at the end of another uneventful shift. And though I'm happy with all my dear friends who are bubbling over with the joys of being part of new birth, sometimes I have to leave the room.
I have to speak to my heart.
Heart, I say, you must be content. You serve a God who IS GOOD. A God who hears and ANSWERS prayers. But you have given Him room to work as He sees fit. Now, my heart, rejoice in the Lord. Honor God for His great kindness toward you. The timing is not for you to know. This is what you must know: His faithfulness is everlasting. His mercies and justice are beyond our ability to comprehend.
So I'm trying to rest, and let God work.
I'm pretty sure my heart needs some fixing.

On Confessions...

Here is where  I live. Down the street from the vacant lot where this little group of kids was picking fruit one day.

This little doll has some greenery that will probably grace the soup pot tonight. Kids that have only ever lived hand-to-mouth... In a much more literal sense than Americans do.

I walk past this beautiful flowering bush that is situated right across from... well... the gate. I guess its true confession time.
I live in a gated community.

You can see the guard house on the right here, and the really nice condos on the left. Where houses like this and cars like this also live.

And honestly, although my standard of living is much different from some of my neighbors', I feel so rich.

Because I even within our gates, I walk past other neighbors. These are houses, and people live in them.

Some of my neighbors are not even human. One day I took my camera around the neighborhood to see the sights.

This fellow lives just two blocks from me. I encountered him one morning on a run.

And even within the walls of my community, there is the banana grove, and that random dirt road that wanders off mysteriously. Of course, I followed it. There at the end stood a little tin shack. Home for somebody.












The planks that are a bridge stretch over the puddle, and the typical 'slippers' sit outside waiting to take their owner for a walk. Right down the road is this cute little goat. I may buy him in chunks one day at the market.

And then, on the other edge of the community, there is the wall. Topped with barbed wire, it keeps the rich in, and the poor out. Yet here is the inequality and injustice, displayed for all to see.

Life from the other side of the fence.

When I climb my water tank in the back yard, I can see it all. I can see over the walls into a different way of life. And what floors me every time is that I live in a good neighborhood. The people whose lives I can peek into, many aren't even poor by Filipino standards.

But I'm glad to have them all so close. It is good to see the poverty and pain. To daily be reminded of how blessed I am. To reevaluate priorities with a bigger picture in mind. These things that are so important to us... earthly possessions... they have no eternal value. It is such a good reminder that my treasure lies elsewhere. A good chance to reflect, and make sure it stays that way.

Mommy Brain and God

I realized today, at a random moment in time, that I've been acting a lot like a busy mom of late. It's not that I have so many children to take care of, or that I have been overly domestic, it's because I did that thing that busy moms do.

Only I did it to God.

I looked out the window this morning, when I woke up, and saw the neighbors, harvesting a rice patty by hand. As I climbed down the creaky bunk-bed ladder and shuffled into the kitchen, I set goals in my head for all the things I would do today. I further stewed over my grandiose plans as I stirred my 3-in-1 and scrambled some eggs. Today would be a productive day.

And it was.

But at some point, between the paper I wrote and fetching myself some lunch, I walked through a doorway and realized that I was loosing track of the point. Just like the busy mom whose day is so filled with laundry, dishes, meals, and chauffeuring that she doesn't actually spend time with her kids, I have been so busy serving God, that I forgot to know Him. Like the mom who cannot find her child in the grocery store, I sometimes find myself on the mission field, still looking for God.

It's possible, you know.

But it's pointless. Yeah, sure, I'm living on the other side of the world, volunteering my finances, skills, and my life for God's kingdom, but sometimes a lot of times I actually am losing track of Him. It's not that I'm neglecting scripture reading or prayer, but that I'm so busy pursuing His work, that I forget to pursue God. Not just going through the motions, but knowing Him.

It's like mommy brain for Christians.

I'm going to need a lot of wisdom, actually. Wisdom to avoid repeating this mistake. Frankly, I don't know how to avoid this pitfall. I don't know how to keep my focus corrected. The service aspect is so tangeable. And seeking God? Not as much. But although I don't know how, I'm determined to find out.

Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened. Matthew 7:7-8

I Don't Know Why...

For some reason, I find it difficult to write about the things in life that impact me the most. Maybe that is why you hear about culture and food, activities and new sights. Maybe that is also why you DON'T hear much about birth and people groups, malnourished children and some of the things that are going on in my heart.

Maybe that's why the recent silence.

I'm sorry.
I know I've promised so many of you that I would keep up with you through this blog. Yet my heart doesn't always have words.

Maybe that is why I'm sharing pictures of starfish and snorkeling instead of the faces that call out to me every day. I cannot always find words, even to tell God what is in this full heart.

It is overwhelming to look out over the mountains that surround me, and to think of the hundreds of villages nestled in their rocky embrace. To think of all the work to do, and all the souls that have not heard. Or to walk through the city, passing house after house, alley after alley, and realizing how many people live right under my nose every day.

Sometimes I see it in their eyes.

They look at me, and its as if their eyes are asking me... won't you tell me? Are you the one who will show me light and life?....And I don't know the balance. I don't know how to spread my life around between personal time with God, learning, volunteering at the clinic, and time reaching out to my co-workers, the people we minister to, and our neighbors.

So I'm sorry for the silence.

Will you please pray with me? Pray that God will give this heart wisdom and words to speak. Pray that I will be a wise steward of my time and energy. Pray that I will know how to act on the compassion welling up within me.

I know He will.