Africa... Visited.

My travels in Africa look somewhat like a dot-to-dot. We were a little here, a little there, and a smidgen of time between the two. 

Who is we? Laura, a friend I trained with in the Philippines, came to with me. We visited three teams in four cities in addition to catching the sweet baby for whom we were originally summoned. Timing throughout the trip was perfectly ordained by God. 

Us with Sahara, the baby we caught, and her mother

As planned, Laura and I had the privilege of attending the birth of Sahara, born in the middle of a Saharan sand storm. Her birth was perfect and beautiful, and all of the things we asked God for were granted. Because we were so far from any decent backup care, we prayed for a complication-free delivery, and God came through.

Laura and I painting a house

In the next town we visited, Laura and I were able to help another family get closer to settling in their new house. We painted the entire inside of the house in two long days! We were so clearly able to see God's timing there as well, because the family was unable to hire local help.

One of the families we stayed with

Next, we stayed with a family who is doing language learning in one of the bigger cities in the area. While there, we met orphanage workers and other volunteers from several different organizations. We were also able to visit a premature baby to give additional care and support to that family. 

Evaluating a Premature Baby

Finally, we spent some time in a third city further south. There, we were privileged to give a health teaching in a settled Nomad village. We taught woman about some of the common complications surrounding childbirth, and we gave them some simple solutions. At the end of this time, we shared a Bible story with them. As the team is new there, and focused mostly on language learning, this was the first time a health outreach and spiritual outreach had been combined. What joy to be there for that special 'Grand Opening'!

Introducing Women's Health and Jesus in a Nomad village

Overall, Laura and I both came back with a desire to seek God as far as long-term work in Africa. We saw His hand of provision, protection, and planning throughout our trip, and we saw the great spiritual and physical needs that He has equipped us to address. We ask you to pray with us as we pursue a long-term commitment to working in Africa.

One Baby at a Time...

That's how I'm seeing the world. One baby at a time. When I left the Philippines and entered another season of waiting, I prayed that God would provide opportunities for me to serve His people with midwifery. A week after that, I had the privilege of attending the birth of my friends' firstborn son. Three weeks later, I was in Honduras for a birth.

December found me in Georgia with dear friends, welcoming their daughter, and January has had me working alongside a midwife in Kentucky. Has the Lord answered my prayers? You be the judge.


I received the message below from a patient in the Philippines. These are the sentiments that make my job worth it.

jan, 19 2013 ur my midwif of my child,, now my child is 2yrs old ,,thank u u are the 1 helping me in my labor,,

Laura is the other midwife in a headband.

And now, I fly again. To a new continent and a new country. To a family in Chad, who is bringing Jesus to their neighbors. To a Momma who needs a midwife for her 6th baby. The plan is that I will travel with a good friend who worked alongside me in the Philippines. We plan to visit several other teams in the country while we're there. Both Laura and I are praying about whether God would set either or both of us in a team there.

So I'm off to see another part of the world. Tour de Bebe. To see another set of prayers answered for myself, Laura, and the family to whom we are sent. 20 days from now, I will board a plane for 1.5 months of Africa. Blessed be the Lord, who fills my heart with desires, and then grants me the desires of my heart.

Next Stop Honduras...

My cute little white boy

There are so many ways my life could go next. This incredible, uncertain way of being is sort of frighteningly wonderful. Although I have no long term plans, I have graciously been provided another baby-catching opportunity. Monday, I fly to Honduras to assist in the birth of a little girl. Lord-willing I will stay three weeks with the family, helping them welcome their second child.

A little about the birth of this little boy pictured here. He decided to initiate me into Certified Midwifery by making his entrance into the world backwards, which rather surprised me. Then, to make life even more exciting, he delayed breathing for over 5 minutes. I don't think I have to tell you that a lot of prayers went up. As I pumped air into his tiny lungs, I just remember saying, 'God, you are the creator and giver of life, I cannot give life to this child. Please let him breathe and give life now!' The mercy of God toward us was overwhelming, and God did just that, He gave life to this cute little white boy.

I cannot think of a better way to attend my first independent birth. God gave wisdom and helped me remember my training, but ultimately, He was the only one who could come through for this child. I have such a poignant example of how I need Him in every birth, in every situation. Even more importantly, I can so clearly see His faithfulness in being mighty to save. These are things that can so easily be taken for granted. He is the faithful God who keeps His promises and acts mightily on behalf of His children.

First white baby I ever caught

It is gracious of God to have me in this brokenly-whole sort of place. I see Him directing my every step. In some ways, coming back to the States makes me feel stripped of everything, lost, and broken. In other ways as I can look back and see where I've been, I feel so whole and confident in who He has made me and the things He is doing in me. And so I find myself both whole and broken in the same instant. While life goes on, I see how my whole story is very much a becoming-sort-of-thing rather than a being-sort-of-thing. Also, super yay for Honduras, because the thought of adjusting to another developing nation is in many ways less intimidating than adjusting back to the States.

So yes, God is moving and working in my life. Questions abound, as does His grace. He is daily guiding me and purging me, and I WILL see the faithfulness of God as these next steps continue to unfold. So many decisions and so many blessings all at once. And this heart is overwhelmed on both accounts. But I know in Whom I have believed, and I am persuaded that it's all gonna be worth it.

It is Finished...

It is finished. This journey to become a Certified Professional Midwife (CPM). I'm trained now, though still with plenty to learn. And what a happy thing! I'm done with my huge exam, done with my Philippine training.

"What's next?" You may ask. That is exactly what I'm trying to figure out. I desire to 'go into all the world'. It is merely a matter of when, where, how, and with whom. And God, in His perfect time and way, will reveal that. Until then, I'm here waiting. I'm rejoicing with my sister in her upcoming marriage, helping with wedding plans, and I caught myself a cute little white boy.

Yes, I'm knocking on doors, and yes, I have many huge decisions to make. And yes, I'd love to continue to have you lift me up in your prayers. Much love to all! I'll keep you updated as the next adventures begin to unfold.

On Final Days....

My final days in the Philippines were filled with such sweet sorrow. 'Babies' I welcomed, now children, walking, talking, so grown up! Friends and co-workers who have become like family to me, goodbyes... some that will never be 'hello's again in this life. On my last Sunday I wrote this:






Crawling to the throne of Jesus,
Lying at His feet in silent plee.
Surrendered, Surrendering, Empty.

Empty as I should be.
No plans, no control.
Offering me, it's all I have.
Waiting for His dreams to take root in my heart.

Lying prone, the ultimate surrender.
He may do what He will, I offer Him control
This prison of freedom to which I've succumbed.

And yes, its uncomfortable.
But oh! Such peace.
That His will may be my goal.

Then a wonderful visit in Manlia with these friends and their children. I jumping off point, a last, sweet farewell until the next country that brings us together. A Sunday church service. A heart's prayer in the form of a song.

Jesus at the Center
This has become my song and prayer for this next, uncertain season. Jesus, be the center of my life.

A Watery Adventure (part 2)...

This is about the people. Lovely, dark-eyed, people with skin the color of perfectly creamed coffee. People from two very different places, who live alongside each other, melding customs and ways. People who work together to make life happen.

The Kami are from Cambodia originally. They have long lived on and around the lake, drawing from its many resources for sustenance. The other group is the Vietnamese. They came here as refugees, but they've stayed and built a life here. Though the communities have remained separate, intermarriage occurs, along with the borrowing of various customs and skills.

And faith. Faith seems to be similar in both groups. Buddhism, ancestor worship, and a strong fear of spirits and ghosts. Everything is seen to have spiritual origins, and those who've preceded us in death are seen to greatly impact our lives. Altars are erected in even the smallest homes to appease these spirits. Life operates on a basis of fear. Consequences. Superstition.

But there is Hope, and it is being offered. Offered by those from the outside, working alongside these people, and offered from the inside, from those who've seen Hope and Life and Light.

This little fella was about 8-9 months old. His momma didn't want him, and twice, she attempted to abort him. After the second attempt failed, she accepted her pregnancy and is now raising her little boy. He is jolly, though slightly delayed in physical development.

And this couple. A school teacher and his wife. Our hosts for out time on the lake. This beautiful couple are parents to two, and gracious in hospitality. Both are hard workers. Their love of God shows on their faces, and through every action. It was an honor to get to know them.

Every morning around 7 am, between 30-70 kids show up for school. They sit on the floor with open notebooks, all ages and grades together. They teach each other and are taught by Anhai, the school-teacher above. The chatter and energy of these kids was what we woke up to every morning.

And smiling faces greeted us with hugs and carefully drawn pictures. They taught us to count and identify colors in their mother-tongue. They showed us their mad boating skills. And they invited us to join them in the myriad of games that seem to be universal to school-aged children around the world.

I so enjoyed these beautiful people. Hospitable, friendly, and so sweet. The types of things that communicate beyond language barriers. Together we enjoyed rice and fish for every meal, and together we squatted at the barge's edge and washed dishes right into the lake.

I spent quite a bit of time with these women, as we worked together on bringing maternal healthcare to the village. We learned from each other.... customs, ways of thinking, and care techniques. We combined our knowledge and offered it in a place where medical care is sketchy at best. We talked about strategies and opportunities. We used the opportunities that arose, and offered care where we were asked to.

What a beautiful opportunity we had, crossing cultures, languages, and boarders. We saw opportunity and need. Together, these ladies and I reached out to their own in the ways we were able. Three languages, three cultures, three groups of people came together for 9 days, and we worked together to offer hope.

Now what?

I go to seek a great perhaps....

I really like that quote, because it is just what every missionary does. It is not the perhaps of God's sending, or of his ability to remain faithful to those He's sent, but the perhaps of just what, exactly, may come of that single act of obedience. GO.

Perhaps it will result in the saving of many souls, and perhaps it will primarily contribute to the saving of our own. Instead of the images of revivals and church planting that frequented my daydreams, I find myself pitifully pleading God for His continued grace and sustenance. I find a new relevance in the verse that talks about 'working out my salvation with fear and trembling". And I increasingly realize the degree of grace necessary to not only sustain mission workers, but also to produce fruit through them.


Perhaps it will be a clearly marked path, and perhaps we will feel as though we are following God with a blindfold on. "Marco"... "Polo"... "Marco" .... "Polo".... Wait, how did God end up way over there? I was so sure I was following Him when I headed in this direction. But perhaps, if God had made that path clear to me from the beginning, I would've dismissed it. Maybe I would have shrunk away in fear, or maybe I would confidently have stepped out, unaware of my human frailty. So I see His plan is perfect, even when our resultant paths look a little jagged.

These are not my feet

And then there are the times. The times we just have no clue which way our path will next veer. When we feel a bit lost, and excited, and afraid, and eager. It is hide and seek, but we've yet to find. Those crazy moments when we realize that all we have been working toward for weeks, months, or years has been accomplished and we do not yet know our next goal. That panic-y feel when we must recreate our normal.

I find myself in this position over the next few months. I'm seeking a great perhaps. As this season of my life begins to wind down, my heart is dreaming, my feelers are out, and I ask myself... "Now what?" It may be a bit premature, but my heart is seeking a new dream to chase. 5 months from now I will get onto an airplane back to the US, back to a great perhaps. I'm I am asking for the nations, but I'm not sure which one yet.

I am praying for direction. These feet want to go, these hands want to serve, and this heart wants to love. Perhaps God will act quickly in cultivating a new dream in my soul, or perhaps He will lead me into another period of waiting. Either way, I'm determined to be content. Now what? Now I am determined, by the grace of God, to live well no matter what the path before me may be.

In the Month of February...

A man's heart deviseth his way: but the LORD directeth his steps.... Proverbs 16:9 Well hello there, friend of mine!Update on Liiiiiifffeeee (which, as you may be able to discern, excites me.) Lord willing, my February looks full. For the first few days I will be scrambling through some academic material and extra shift work in order to free up the remainder of the month. Besides that, I am learning about Primary Health Care and Counseling. Scheduled shift work added in, I could keep myself plenty busy. Yet there is something happening that excites my little heart far more. My sister is coming to visit! Jonathan, for my brother For two lovely weeks I will give her a taste of all that my life contains over here on this distant isle. We will laugh and play and catch up on everything, and no doubt there will be tears at our parting. You, dear readers, will likely be regaled with both written and a pictorial documentation of this exciting event. And so, in this short month of February, I shall likely be quite the busy bee. Alas, were it only for the 6 classes, full work schedule, and visit from a foreign land, the danger of boredom might loom over me like an impending rain shower. Fear not idleness, my friends. The second half of my February promises to keep me occupied as well. Over this summer, many of you listened to my excitement over the possibility of reaching out to a neighboring country. Well, the time has come. On February 20, I leave for two weeks on a Lake in Cambodia. Go ahead and click on that, its a slideshow created by a few who went this fall. It should give enough details for now. Though the itinerary for this trip is still under construction, I anticipate a time of both giving and receiving as I will be working alongside an established ministry. There will be much to learn from those who are already on the front lines, already plowing the un-plowed soil of hearts who have never heard. Please, dear ones, keep this in your prayers. Girls who have already been bring back reports of immense spiritual growth and challenge, as well as fruitful ministry. Words cannot express my excitement, and my heart can scarce contain it. 8 weeks old now So as I fly through my busy February, please keep me in your prayers as I continue to remember you in mine. Life doesn't slow down, I'm just learning to hold onto my hat. The light at the end of the tunnel is visible. In 3.5 months, the academic portion of my work here will be complete. About 3 months after that, my time here will come to a close. Beyond that, I have little visibility a present. This heart of mine prefers a bit of planning, but oh! The character that can be built in the times of waiting and praying. Bless you, and join me in blessing our Father. With love, Missowissa

How Do I.....

Hi, I'm 27, and I'm not fully grown. Nope, I don't have lots of physical growing to do, I have a list of things I'd like to learn. Wisdom doesn't grow on trees, but it does grow in the hearts of those who submit to and fear God. So I'll just make this an open discussion.

How do I go about becoming fully consecrated to God?

Yeah, pray more, read more, spend time with God.... but at what point does full consecration occur? I mean, we still really live in this world, and some of our thoughts and actions will necessarily facilitate basic survival. We are also called to reach the lost, which obviously necessitates a lot of time spent pursuing them. Also, God created many things for us to 'richly enjoy'. He created smiles and laughter and recreation. He designed our bodies to need rest. My mind doesn't have a good grasp on an accurate balance for this conundrum.

How do I change the world?

Some of you will automatically say that changing the world is a human-centered goal. But I'm pretty sure Jesus did it, and I'm supposed to be like Him. Where to start? What to do? I see plenty of needs, plenty of opportunities, and I have some ability to respond. But what is right? Is there really one specific set of actions that is designated exactly for me, or should I look for need and go work where I see God working? I'm a bit afraid to take hasty action, but I may be more afraid of doing nothing at all for fear of doing the wrong thing. Again and again Jesus 'was moved with compassion' and then acted. That is the main thing we're told of His prompting. Compassion alone offers a pretty broad spectrum of ministry opportunities. How does vision become focused?

How do I go about making and keeping good priorities?

To put others first seems to be a good priority until the moment you realize that in so doing, you've reduced your devotion time to a chore. On some level, serving is LIVING the heart of Jesus and I have found it to be a very real way of worshiping God and understanding His grace toward me. Yet at some indistinguishable junction I seem to cross this invisible line between sacred worship/sacrifice and distracting busyness. Inevitably, the less of Him you have, the less you have to share.

How do I feel the weight of compassion without being crushed to pieces by the sorrow all around me?

I long to empathize with people and to help bear their pain. The ugly side of pain is that each of us has about as much as we can handle. To take on that of another can be crushing. Also, there is no use in a person who is completely immobilized by the crushing weight of sorrow. How old will I be before I finally learn the balance between feeling enough and feeling too much? How much grace is required to lift someone up and take part of their burden simultaneously? At what point have you done all you can, and when is it necessary to become refreshed in your own heart? Can anyone actually give me practical advice on what it means to 'Cast my care upon the Lord"? 

How do I release others from expectations?

I would love to believe that I am strong and wise and not one bit petty. The ugly truth, however, is that I still have some very immature emotions and expectations of those in my life. Somehow, even from the other side of the world, I still manage to feel entitled to a certain level of friendship. I feel hurt over things that are unintentional, and I have unrealistic expectations of friends and family. How do I stay close to people, offer them all of who I am, and still release them from expectations? How do I adjust to a long distance relationship with every person who has been any significant part of my life?

How do I balance faith and action?

Why are some types of action considered compatible with faith, and others are viewed as its antithesis? Why is it alright to work as a means of providing for yourself, but not to make needs known when paying work is not an option? Why is the admission of unfulfilled desires akin to a statement of faithlessness? Where is the balance between relying on God for the future and proper stewardship of all He's given us? Is it possible that this balance is delicate, situational, and personal? Could God really be pleased by different combinations from different people at different times?

As you can see, I have a lot of growing up to do. I lack answers to most of my questions, and I question the answers I do have. At times I feel closer to God now that I don't know completely what I believe than I ever did when I thought I had it figured out. Possibly this is just where He wants me.... depending.

On Continuity...

Continuity.

It's a word used to describe the type of care we give to some of our patients.Sometimes we adopt certain patients and really give them all their care. Some are because we need the experience, and some we adopt because they need us. We come in for every prenatal visit, and we spend weeks glued to our cell phones, just waiting to hear that they're in labor. And the last 8 days have been rather... well....

Crazy.
 
They told me I was when I took 4 continuity patients in the middle of September. But either I needed them, or they needed me. Maybe both.  And although their due dates spanned 19 days, they all gave birth within 8. I'll have to tell you the stories over the course of 2 posts, because it'll get rather long. First, let me tell you about Claire, the cute little girl in the picture above. 

 

Long.

That's how her labor was.... really, really long.  She had a good attitude, and we spent a lot of time walking, swaying, and sitting on an exercise ball. Finally, after 12 hours of hard work on both of our parts, she had to be transported. Her body was just not progressing as quickly as it needed to, and she was now outside of the normal time limits for giving birth. The hospital was now a better option for her, as they could handle out-of-normal births.




Sad. 

The feeling rushed over me as I prepared papers for transport. As I crawled into bed around 4 am, I prayed that God would watch over her and her baby.  I slept deeply, only to wake up to a text at 11am. "Maam, my panubigan is out na. I think paglabor ko".

Upset.

Because her bag of waters had already ruptured, she was on a 12 hour timeline to give birth at our clinic.  Since she hadn't texted me right away, we only had 6 of those hours left. For a first baby, that's pretty fast. I knew her chances of getting transported were pretty high. Just 8 hours after my last patient as transported, I was prepared to feel devastated. But the shift was busy. Crazy busy. And one of the babies was born with some of its organs in the umbilical cord. Like the one in the illustration here. My supervisor let the mother kiss the baby, then she and I jumped into the ambulance within seconds of the birth and rushed her to the hospital, praying for all we were worth. She hung on for 4 days and one surgery, but she's gone now, leaving her family with a gaping wound.
Determined.

Both of us were. I rushed back into the clinic and my patient was still there, dancing with her husband. Slow dancing. He turned on music for them. Tenderly, he swept the hair back off her forehead and kissed her gently, murmuring in her ear. I recall the day she came into prenatals and giggled as she smoothed out a paper on the bed next to where I was writing. Her marriage certificate. "This past July, ma'am." She was shy, but so happy. And I knew I just LOVED her!

Loving.


It was the feeling in the cubicle. Between her husband, the other midwives and I, the woman was well cared for.  The supervisor gave her more grace with the time than expected. Her husband held her, pushed with her, and encouraged her after every contraction. We told her she could, and then a look of confidence would come over her face, and she would try again. And as her baby was born, the whole room erupted in praise to God, congratulations, and cheering. The baby took a bit to start crying, and again, cheers as the first sweet cries were heard. The dad held his cell phone up to let the caller hear the baby.

Intense.

That's how  the whole shift was. Intensely happy, intensely sad, intensely fearful, intensely loving. It was intensely busy, intensely tiring. And all in all, it was intensely wonderful.

How Can I Explain....

How can I explain....

I gently lay my hands on a full rounded belly, trying to ascertain the position of the little one inside. In response to my touch, the baby kicks. It's like a conversation with a miniature person I have not yet seen, and who has no power of speech. My eyes meet the eyes of the mother lying before me, and we share a sweet smile.

How can I explain....

I look through the chart. Her 'Risk Status' tells me that she has already been with multiple partners. Her Gram Stain results tell me that one of them has left her a nasty infection, and her doctor referral tells me she's been treated. I look at her. She tells me that she still has symptoms, in spite of her treatments, and that this pregnancy is uncomfortable for her. And she's 15 years old.

How can I explain....

I place the fetoscope on the belly of another young mommy and it sounds like there's more than one heartbeat. My hand rests lightly on her belly, beside the bell of my fetoscope and I feel it too. Then I come to realize... I'm hearing and feeling the hiccups of the itsy bitsy human inside.

How can I explain....

 I greet a tiny mommy, not even 5 feet tall. She doesn't look as young as the others, yet I gasp when I read that this is her 11th pregnancy. Her beautiful tummy does not even exhibit stretch marks. I could've believed this was her first baby. And it seems the whole family lives off an income of $5 per day.


How can I explain....

 I glance around the room filled with 60 pregnant women, listening as their voices combine in a praise song. Beautiful, Filipina voices singing in their native tongue. Singing songs they've learned in this place I work. This place that exists for the very purpose of bringing others to sing with us in honor of our God.

How can I explain....

I cannot help but love every moment of my life. How can I explain it? These amazing experiences all happened within the space of one day, and yet every day holds these sorts of emotionally charged occurrences. And try as I might, I really cannot explain it. I cannot explain the intensity of joy and sadness in this life I live. And through it all, the intensity of my wonder at the greatness of the God I love.

Why Not Me?

Why not me?

I have asked this question, or some version of it throughout my life. I think it started as a kid, when I wasn't allowed to do something, or go somewhere. When my older sisters were allowed to do something exceptionally wonderful, or my younger siblings were still young enough to participate in a certain coveted activity

Why not me?

I have asked this question when I watched people I love going through horrible, difficult things, yet my life was untouched. When friends hurt so badly and all I could do was offer my tears, hugs, and support. And when I faced situations to which there was no good answer.

Why not me?

I have asked this question when I watched other follow their dreams, travel the world, and share the gospel while I sat at home, learning to be content with local ministry. When I had unfulfilled longings and desires that seemed so good to me.

Why not me?

I have asked this question when I saw someone blessed, but not content with their blessings. When friends despised their life situations I craved so badly, and when my blessings would have been their desire.

Why not me?

I have asked this question when I read scriptures about people doing miracles, seeing God's power, and saving souls. When my life didn't display the power I see promised in the Word, and when I had compassion for people whose lives I wanted to impact.

Why not me?

I have asked this question in my prayers and journals as I seek God to use me in bigger, bolder, and more impacting ways. When I knew there was more and I wanted it. When I wanted healing hands and supernatural words for others.

Why not me?

Now it is a prayer, an anguished plea, a hungering desire. God, I see all this lack, pain, and darkness in the world. I see souls who need Jesus. I see heartache and bitterness and hopelessness. Who will go? Who will love them? Who will tell them about Jesus? Who will bind up their wounds and bring the salve of love to their broken souls? Who will set the captives free?

Why not me?

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.

On Acquiring a Namesake....

It was her fourth baby, so she was almost professional at this whole birthing thing. Three little girls, and this one was a surprise. She was hoping for a boy. They both were. But then, so was my Daddy and I surprised him.







She took a brief interlude from her pacing to lean on the counter as another contraction rippled across her belly. Her breathing normalized and she gave me a wry smile and stood upright. "Do you have a name for your baby?" I was trying to help her focus on the goal, rather than the present pain.

"Arnold" she stated. I lifted my eyebrows, silently asking if they had a reason for this name. "It is the name of my husband." Oh, of course. And if its a girl? "I don't know!" She laughed, shrugging her shoulders. "Oh, then you can name it after me if it's a girl, ok? Joke lang!" We both laughed this time, being silly together.

"Baby out!" I flipped the baby right onto her mother's belly. She had already started crying.... Good baby! Her mother and father held hands, looking adoringly into each other's eyes, awed by the tiny little life just given them. "Lalake or Babae?" I asked, re-positioning the baby so they could determine gender. "It's a girl!"



About an hour after the birth, when baby was breastfeeding and mother was all settled, I sat down with the family. I began to ask questions for the birth certificate. Religion, age, date of birth for the parents.... and finally, what is the name of your baby? The couple glanced at each other, and the mother quickly rattled off our little conversation at the counter. The father turned to me. "What is your name?"
Melissa. "Full name?" Melissa Lynn.
"Melissa Lynn" the father was testing the sound of it in his mouth. "Melissa Lynn" a grin grew across his face.  "Sigi" He indicated for me to write that down on the birth certificate form. Really? Are you sure? I was just joking. "Melissa Lynn" It's good. His statement was so final. The mother smiled at me and nodded her head. And in that moment, I acquired a namesake.

 The rest of the night, every time I stepped in to check on mommy and baby the dad would look at me and grin.... "Melissa Lynn". I made this sweet little girl a headband to wear. I prayed over her, that she will grow up to be a godly woman. I wonder if one day she too will catch babies. I thanked her parents for honoring me, by bestowing my name on their new little one. I even considered warning them that a "Melissa Lynn" might be a handful to raise. And I smiled a lot that night at all four of our new babies, but a little bit extra at my Melissa Lynn.

My Only Desire...

My only desire is to bring Him praise.

This is what I sing. It is what I tell myself, and it is what I tell Him. I wish to believe this about myself. I wish it to be true.

But it isn't true.

When I'm perfectly honest with myself, I see that I have so many desires. Many of them fall in categories like "good", "noble", or  "harmless". And to be perfectly honest, many also fall into categories like "selfish", "prideful", or "fleshly". My lips sing that I want nothing more than to know Him, but my actions tell a different story.

I want pure motives.

Honestly, though, I have a hard time knowing where the boundary is. Sometimes I want things, but I'm really not sure why. Is it because it sounds exciting or fun? Is it because I know it is the heart of God? Is it because I will be well esteemed for making that choice? Is it so others will know God? Is it a desire due to the changes God has worked in my heart?

Oh God! Search my heart!

  How often am I telling myself God is my everything, but when I evaluate my desires, I realize that so many of them are only my own.I don't even know the difference. And I know, that even if I start something with good motives, my heart can be swayed. So again and again I ask God to purify my heart. To give me clean hands, and a right spirit.

Do I love the work of God?

Sometimes I catch myself being interested in someone because they are interesting. I find myself taking time to know someone because  they have a tragic story, or an interesting life. But do I care about their souls? Is that my motive? I realize again and again how human I am. How incapable I am of doing good, apart from God.

How much I NEED Him.

I realize that the more I make God my only desire, the more I will have to give to others. The sooner I crucify my flesh, the more the life of Christ will be evident and desirable in my life. The more God directs my passions, the sooner my motives will be corrected, and my heart set straight. And so I sing again....

Be my Only Desire.