On My Crazy Yesterday....

Sabrina and I

My yesterday lasted 21 hours. Actually, it is still going. This is pretty common for my crazy midwife schedule. Some of the happenings within that 21+ hours, however, were not common. Not common at all. Let me tell you a bit about it.

I woke up at 11 am. Now this might seem like excessive sleep to you, unless you know that I didn't go to bed until almost 3 am. I was switching my sleep clock from day shift to night shift. I ate breakfast, made a grocery and market list, and balanced the house budget before heading off to a mandatory, organized, group learning session at the clinic.

One of my patients had been texting me all night and into the morning, showing signs of early labor. My mind was well occupied because of that and planning a visit to another patient that I'd transported the morning before. It had been a traumatic transport... a girl I really took time with, but who was not progressing normally in labor. I was going to visit her at the hospital, and I wanted company. I texted a few girls and organized the trip.

My patient smiled at me from bed 100...not the highest bed number in that single room, by a long shot. Beside her in the same bed another mother, baby, grandmother, and father sat, admiring their own new little one. 2 patients/families per bed is pretty standard in that ward. We held the baby, photographed the baby, kissed the baby, and asked questions. She expected to be discharged soon, and to leave the100+ degrees, 300+ patients, and assorted nurses and cats in the room. It was a happy ending to a story with a scary climax. We had transported her into a busy ER where we witnessed things that will not easily be processed or forgotten.

Sabrina and her momma

We prayed over the happy new family and headed out of the hospital. On our way out, a woman greeted me in the foyer. I engaged her in conversation and found that she was there with a family member who had been in a tricycad accident. I prayed over her and her family, asking God for healing, provision, and that His love would be known to them. After a quick discussion amongst ourselves, we girls decided to visit another ward to pray over some patients. We were not quite prepared for what awaited us.

As we approached the gymnasium that served as a mixed ward, a colorfully dressed older woman came up to us and asked for money. She became very angry when we told her we had nothing to give her. We asked the security guard permission, then proceeded into the gym. The first woman we prayed over was very thin and fragile. She was suffering from breathing, heart, and gastrointestinal issues. We next talked to the daughter of an old man. He had suffered a stroke or aneurism (my Visayan was not good enough to tell which) and completely unconscious. We again prayed over him, and for his family.

Isabelle pointed out another patient. A 'human form' that we could not distinguish as man, woman, or child. I don't think she could've weighed more than 40 lbs. Her body wasted from ulcers, the stomach acid had turned her teeth into mush. She coughed constantly, a thin, dry cough that took all her strength. I went to her side and asked if I could pray for her. She summoned all of her strength, and in a very quiet voice, told me her story. She has two kids, a 7 and 11 year old. She was dying. Her head turned and she spit out a few of her teeth. She continued to whisper her requests to me, and I leaned my ear to within inches of her face, trying to understand the quiet, foreign words that tumbled from her dry lips. Could I pray for her family? Her kids especially. And for healing for her body?

I took her frail hand in mine. I prayed over her, begging God for miracles. My broken Visayan, mixed with English as I poured out my heart.... our hearts. To see her healed. That God would have mercy on her family. By the end of my prayer she lay, eyes closed, breathing heavily. Our 10 minute interaction had worn her out. My heart was full... Like a sponge sodden with water, and threatened to seep from my eyes. We stood, blessed her and her family, and made our departure.

Silently, we made our way to a grassy area behind the hospital. Our hearts were too full for words, and as we sat in silence, tears spilled down our cheeks. It was all too much to take in. After a while, we prayed together and debriefed. A large, black billy goat meandered by on the grass behind us. And then we were ready to go. To find some food and, hopefully, the elements of communion. As we walked toward the exit of the hospital, the colorfully dressed woman spotted us again. She spoke harsh, hate-filled words that, although foreign, chilled our bones and unsettled our spirits. I silently prayed against those words, and against any curse or spirit behind them.

Our spirits began to lighten as we ate sticky rice, cassava cake, and RC cola from a little stand outside the hospital. The little children played shy, waving at us from behind the legs of their parents. After returning our empty RC bottles, we went to a bakery for bread, and found grape Gatorade. Lest you find me sacrilegious for thinking that  sweet bread and Gatorade could function as bread and wine, allow me to assure you of a strict dearth of grape products in the Philippines. Even my church uses grape koolaide for communion (Yes, I'm drinking the koolaide). We went back to my house and had a very sweet (no pun intended) communion together.

Night shift started slowly. I transported a labor who was too late in her pregnancy to deliver safely at Mercy. When I walked back in from my ambulance ride I was called into a cubicle to take over a labor. You cannot possibly imagine my shock when I saw who my patient's companion was... the brightly dressed woman with whom I'd had the tense encounter at the hospital earlier. My breath came in much shorter increments and I cried out to God in my heart, asking for wisdom, spiritual protection, and grace to handle whatever lay ahead. I quickly explained the situation to my supervisor in hushed tones. She confirmed that there was a spiritual darkness here.... she got a headache the instant this woman arrived. We set to work, knowing a new baby was not far off.

Melissa and I

I checked the laboring woman's progress. By normal standards she should have been 1-4 hours from giving birth. Again, not a normal day. She was from a people group who are amazing birthers. They seem to defy all anatomy and give birth quickly, exhibiting almost no pain, and NOT following any suggestions of well meaning midwives. 9 minutes later, a screaming baby girl was laid on her stomach. She told me that I would name this baby.... Also common amongst this people group. As morning dawned, I tried to decide what name I should give.

I suggested 6 or 7 different names for the darling baby girl. For some reason, the older, colorfully dressed woman kept on suggesting 'Melissa'.  Maybe God had allowed this reunion for a reason. She treated me kindly now, and smiled at me. Just before 6am, as we prepared to go off shift, the name was settled. Melissa.... My third namesake in a month. And as I wearily climbed into bed this morning, I saw God's hand in my every move or the day. I saw clearly that my entire day was crafted by God, ordained that I would share His love abroad. I saw that although I could not give financially to this woman, I could give my love.... His love to her relative, and I watched that transform an angry, dark woman into a more gentle person, soothed by His grace.

Melissa, her momma, and I

I do not know what God will do for the patients at the hospital. I do not know the fate or future of any of the people I met yesterday. But I watched God work, and I have confidence that He will complete the good thing that He has started. I feel like Peter and John in Acts 3:6 "Then Peter said, Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have give I thee: In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth rise up and walk." May God's life and light flow through me to bring His glorious gospel to the Nations.