A Time For Everything

It’s somewhat surreal as I sit down here at home to write this final blog about the remainder of my trip. Due to the fact that the internet was down for our final week, I have had to wait until now to write about the rotation in the hospital and everything that happened during our last few days in Nigeria. So, hopefully I’ll be able to do a sufficient job of recalling all the events and lessons I learned, even though now that I’m back in California, I have a lot of different thoughts and emotions running through my head.

After a somewhat relaxing weekend following my return from camp, I started in Maternity for my final week in the hospital. Having spent basically all my time with Alisha by my side up until that point, it was weird walking to the hospital by myself, but I was just grateful that she was now taking anti-malarial medication and was somewhat on the mend. Not quite knowing where I was going or what I was doing, I entered into the Maternity ward, happened to run into Dr. Truxton, one of the SIM missionary doctors who has actually been at the hospital for the last 35 years. She directed me to the delivery room, and there I was introduced to some of the nurses. Labor and Delivery nursing is much different than in the states, as all the nurses in that ward are certified nurse midwives, and therefore they are the ones to do all the deliveries. The doctors at Evangel do not really ever deliver babies unless there is a complication of some sort.

When I first walked into the delivery room, there was a woman who had just delivered and was having a postpartum hemorrhage. It was a little bit of an extreme introduction to the ward as I walked in, this woman is bleeding all over the place, and one of nurses tells me to get a protective apron on before I came over to watch her try and stop the bleeding and repair a laceration on the woman…when you have to wear a white dress uniform all day you definitely learn to appreciate protective shielding. After the woman’s bleeding had stopped and she was all cleaned and sutured up, she was transferred to the next room over to recover, and the nurse midwife, whose name was Janet, took me on a tour of the ward. She showed me where everything was and explained how everything works, and honestly, from there on out, the day was really uneventful. I learned very quickly that things in Labor and Delivery are either crazy busy, or maddeningly slow. I think the most exciting thing that happened during the rest of that day was that a little baby boy peed all over my leg…awesome.

The following day was pretty much the opposite, and I learned very quickly that I prefer overly busy to slow and uneventful. Oh yes, and I apologize in advance for anything gross or uncomfortable I might address. Of course I’m not going to put in ALL the details, but this is the miracle of life we’re talking about here, and certain things just fascinate me, as messy as they might be. Anyway, when I first arrived there were two women who had been at the hospital all night, and although they were carrying term babies, they had not yet gone into labor, so they were given some Prostaglandin to speed up the process. While we were waiting for the medication to take effect, I got to change into some scrubs and watch a C-Section that was taking place. Even though I’ve seen a few while in my OB rotation in the states, they never cease to amaze me, and it was interesting to watch because it was done slightly differently than I had seen before. Based on what I had seen in the states, once the baby is out the doctors actually pull the uterus outside the body to sew it up, which was quite an interesting thing to see. It kind of looks like a little turkey or something plopped outside the pelvic cavity, with the little fallopian tubes as wings…yeah, you might have to be a nurse to find amusement in that mental image. Anyway, in the C-Section I saw in Nigeria they actually left the uterus inside as they stitched it up, and I wish I would have asked why, but I never got around to it, because right as I walked out of the OR into the delivery room, one of the other women was going into labor.

From what I could tell, Sarah (the woman going into labor) was all by herself at the hospital and did not have any family or friends there to support her, so I quickly went to the bedside and began assisting her with the long and painful process of labor. I would lift up her head when the contractions came and let her squeeze my hand when she needed to, but after about an hour of pushing things started to get a little crazy. It was Sarah’s first baby, and I don’t think she was taught beforehand when or how to push properly, so she had expended too much energy early on in labor, and therefore was having a hard time progressing. After a while it was decided that the a doctor should be called in because the baby had pretty much crowned, but the contractions were not sustained, and this woman was having such a hard time pushing because of her fatigue. I stood in the midst of madness as there were two doctors and three nurses (not including myself) surrounding her, the decision was made to start an IV line so she could get some Pitocin to increase her contractions, while at the same time it was decided to get out the vacuum extractor because the baby needed to come out sooner rather than later. There was pretty much only one helpful light in the room that was being turned back and forth between the woman’s hand, where the IV site was trying to be established, and her birth canal, where the vacuum extractor was attempting to be used. Neither of these approaches were successful for quite some time however, as Sarah had difficult veins, and I think they honestly tried to start the IV line at least five times, moving from arm to arm, and failing with each attempt. The vacuum extractor was also slightly defective, because it had this hand pump that would build up the suction, but once it was pumped up, unless it was held in a specific position it would lose that suction and you’d have to start all over.

So I’m standing there, half-amused and half-horrified by the scenario of this poor woman lying there going through labor, her baby is almost out, surrounded by medical personnel arguing about whether they should start the IV or just forget it and go with the vacuum extraction, getting stuck with a needle over and over again in one hand and then the other, with this strange device that keeps malfunctioning stuck in her vagina…oh yes, and of course she had already had an episiotomy, so that always adds to the fun. I guess that’s why God kind of repeated Himself in Genesis 3:16 when He said, “I will greatly increase your pains in childbearing; with pain you will give birth to children.” He wasn’t sure that just saying it once would get the message through. Well, the vacuum extractor ended up working before an IV line could be successfully started, so Sarah finally gave girth to a beautiful baby boy. Unfortunately, the pain of labor and delivery does not actually end after delivery, as most of the time the women have episiotomies and/or lacerations that need repair, and although I obviously can’t speak from experience, I would guess that the repair isn’t very comfortable either. Despite all the pain and discomfort however, I’d imagine there is not much that can be compared with the joy of bringing life into the world, and I reminded the women of that as I was assisting them through labor.

Once everything was all over, I could tell that Sarah was grateful for my presence and support during that whole process, and it was such a great feeling knowing that I was a comfort and support to her when she needed it. And one other exciting occurrence I forgot to mention was that earlier on in the day one of the nurses let me do a vaginal examination (VE) on Sarah to check her dilation. I had never done this before, and although I knew what I was SUPPOSED to be feeling for, I really had no idea of what it would really be like, so I couldn’t say what was actually going on in there, but practice makes perfect, and you have to start somewhere, so I was grateful for the opportunity to have that experience.

The following day was just as exciting, as I got to assist with two more deliveries. It was fascinating to be a part of this process and observe the way the nurses handle everything, because they are definitely not very into sympathy and gentle encouragement. Woman are expected to be strong and to know what to do and how they are to go through labor, so the nurses are pretty harsh with them. Although I’m sure this method has its merit within their mindset and culture, I was glad to be the one to provide a kind word, a hand and a smile, and leave the harsher encouragement to the Nigerian nurses.

The highlight of my day, my week, and actually one of the highlights of my entire trip, came on Wednesday when I went to visit Sarah and see how she and her baby were doing since the day before when I had helped her through her delivery. I walked onto the ward where she was staying, and she had a big smile on her face as I asked her how she was feeling and how her baby was. She looked 110% better than she had the day before, and she said she was feeling great. When I asked her if she had decided on a name for her baby she said, “No, not yet…but I think YOU should name him.” I was a little taken aback, and my first reaction was to say, “No, it’s your baby, I couldn’t possibly name him...you should be the one to name him.” But she insisted that she wanted me to do it, so I told her I’d have to think about it and get back to her. The rest of my afternoon was consumed by thoughts of baby names and trying to think of the perfect name for this woman’s baby. Most of their names are either tribal names (which I obviously would not know the first thing about) or Biblical names, so by default, I decided to go with a Biblical name. Also, the meanings of names are very important, so I wanted to make sure I knew the meaning before I decided on a name.

One of the names that I liked off the top of my head was Caleb, but since I found out through a Nigerian friend that they spell it Kaleb, say it differently, it is not a very common name, and I also didn’t know the meaning, I started looking for something else. When I opened up my Bible to see what I could find, I flipped right open to I Samuel and read the story of Hannah and how she prayed so fervently for a child, that when she finally had a baby boy she named him Samuel, which means Heard by God, saying “Because I asked the Lord for him.” Although a couple other names appealed to me, I didn’t look much further than that first passage, and even though I probably should have just gone with Samuel right off the bat, I am an indecisive person, and there is a lot of pressure having the responsibility of naming a child looming over me…I mean, I would hate for the child to grow up hating his name, or for it to be some awkward name that no one can pronounce right, SO I ended up deciding to give Sarah two options, Caleb (Kaleb) or Samuel, and let her decide between the two…and she chose Samuel. I can’t express what an honor it was to be a part of this process, and I hope I was able to bless Sarah and Samuel and much as they blessed me.

Wednesday was actually my last day in the hospital, because the rest of the week was filled with hanging out with people, taking care of business at the SIM office, debriefing, and getting ready to leave. Thursday was so much fun, as Alisha and I got to go to the market with Lyop (one of the “Aunties” from camp) and Nanfe and Nimchit (two girls that live on the Evangel compound that we had met through Lyop) to buy supplies for cooking our big Nigerian meal that night. We got them to teach us how to make Jelof rice, which is one of the very common dishes there, and I have to say, it was a fabulous meal, and such great fellowship. Alisha and I absolutely love those girls…they were so sweet, so much fun, and they made it so much harder to leave.

We actually spend most of Friday with Lyop and Nanfe as well, as they were the ones who braided our hair. Alisha and I had picked out extensions the day before (golden and brown for Alisha and red and brown for me), and then on Friday we officially became Nigerian. Although we were warned that it might take all day, it actually took about four hours to go through the whole braiding process, with a few breaks for food and photoshoots in between of course. Even though it was slightly painful, and a little weird getting used to at first, I have to say I’ve thoroughly enjoyed having long, red, braided hair, and it’s fun because they say it should last about two weeks…it was also interesting because we couldn’t tell as we walked around town the next couple days if we got more or less weird looks from the Nigerians for being “Baturi” with braided hair…I honestly think it made us stand out more.

Just as Friday night was our penultimate night, Saturday was our penultimate day, and I have to say, I started to feel the reality of the fact that I would be leaving soon, even though I was pretty much still in denial. Saturday flew by as Alisha and I visited all the different wards of the hospital, gave them all thank you notes, and visited for a little bit. We then had a final lunch with Tim and Dan before bidding them farewell as they took off for the airport. It wasn’t THAT hard of a goodbye, because they are actually going to visit us some time in early September as they will be traveling through the LA area, so that should be really fun. Later on that afternoon we did some last minute souvenir shopping, went to a salon with Nanfe and Lyop to get our nails done, and then had a final dinner with the Ardills. They are such a wonderful family and it was so great to be able to talk to Dr. Ardill about our trip and our thoughts on Nigerian nursing, getting his opinion and advice on things. Before we knew it we were packing up our bags and crawling into bed, getting underneath our mosquito nets for the last time in only God knows how long.

Sunday also flew by, and basically all we did was go to church and then do some last minute things around the compound, getting ready to go. Our driver picked us up around 2:00, we had a four hour drive into Abuja, and thus began our long journey home. From there it was basically a lot of flights, waiting for flights, interesting conversations on flights, and trying (and usually failing) to sleep through flights. We did have an interesting run-in with security at the airport in Abuja before leaving the country, but all was well once they searched our bags and concluded we were not dangerous criminals. In fact, most all of the male personnel we interacted with in the airport asked if we wanted to marry a Nigerian, which is actually a normal occurrence, but I’m sure the hair didn’t help the situation…in fact, one of them said to me, “I think you should marry a Nigerian, because I like your hairstyle.”

One difference in the trip back was that we stopped in Charlotte, North Carolina, for a day to go through a debrief at the SIM headquarters. Although we were pretty tired, and wishing we could be done traveling at that point, it was really great to see the headquarters and meet all the people at SIM who had been involved with our application process and all the details of planning and taking care of our trip. SIM is such an incredible organization, managed by such an amazing group of believers, and it was very beneficial to have that time to talk with some of the personnel and see first-hand how the organization is run.

After the day of debriefing in Charlotte we had about a five-hour flight into San Diego, and I have to say that everything felt a little surreal as I landed, got off the plane, went down the escalator toward the baggage claim, and found my family waiting at the bottom with a “Welcome Home Allison” banner, smiling, ready with a camera and open arms for me to be home. Alisha’s mom and younger sister were there as well, so we all exchanged hugs, took a few pictures, picked up our luggage, and headed out to our cars. Even though I’d been trying to prepare myself mentally to leave Alisha, it was definitely hard watching her walk off with her family. I knew it wouldn’t be THAT long until I would see her again, two weeks at the most, but when you’ve spent six weeks with someone by your side nearly 24-7, two weeks can seem like an eternity…I almost cried as we drove off.

It has now been two days since my return, and even though I have already begun wrestling through so many issues and lessons learned during my trip, God has just begun the process of truly impressing them upon my heart, fitting them into the context of daily life, and establishing a mindset of missions, service, and others-centeredness. It is going to take time, thought, prayer, sacrifice, humility, and daily surrender to allow everything I’ve experienced and learned to take root in my life. I know that it is going to take a while to adjust mentally and to find the balance of what mindsets I need to allow to stay the same, and what mindsets I need to change. I feel that my greatest struggle is going to be when it comes to judgment toward America and the American people. This judgment isn’t an outward emotion, or even a conscious inward emotion, but rather more in my subconscious, and something that I want to make an intentional effort to avoid. It is true that we are an incredibly blessed nation, and along with that a very materialistic nation, but I have no right to self-righteously look down on anyone for enjoying the blessings this life has to offer. As it says in Ephesians 4:2, “Accept life with humility and patience, making allowances for one another because you love one another.” I need to accept and understand that God works in everyone’s lives in different ways, and different times, and the greatest way I can show His glory and share His love is not by condemning, but by accepting people where they are at…by sharing my experiences and my excitement for what He has done in my life, not even necessarily expecting them to understand or join in that excitement, but seeking to exude a passion for missions and a joy of service that is contagious.

As I wrap up this final blog it is difficult to know what to say. I feel there is so much more I want to share, and yet I don’t have words to express it all. As much as I would love to still be in Nigeria right now, I thank God that He has a plan bigger and better than my own, and I know at the moment His plan involves me finishing school. I hope and pray that as I start up this fall semester, He will continue to work mightily in my life, using me to minister to and bless people around me. I want to be more intentional in my spiritual growth and more active in my seeking out opportunities to serve Him while at school. I want to continue working through and wrestling with issues of life, death, suffering, sacrifice, and service, never becoming complacent or comfortable with the way things are. I want to be a vessel of God’s grace and love no matter where I am, and I want to live in a way that brings Him pleasure. These past six weeks have taught me countless things, but one of the most important being that this life is short, and my God deserves every fiber of my being, every breath that I take, and every thought that enters my mind, to be glorifying to Him. He is faithful. He is victorious. He is patient. He is gentle. He is powerful. He is everything to me, and I am so grateful to be His child, and to have experienced what I have over the past six weeks…God bless Nigeria and its people…and God bless you for your prayers and support…they have blessed me more than I can say.

Holding Baby Samuel

Shopping with Nanfe and Nimchit at the market

Lyop and I...about to enjoy our amazing Nigerian meal

About half-way done with the hair...

All finished! Nanfe is the hair-stylist extraordinaire...I love this girl!

David was one of the ICU nurses...and I think Alisha and I would agree he was probably our favorite.

Being silly with the girls...we only spent about a week with her,
but I miss Gemma already.

One final photoshoot in our front yard...

The sunset on the way to the airport...God's glorious goodbye

One last hug at the airport...I couldn't have asked for a better traveling companion, friend, encourager, adventurer, and sister in Christ to share this journey with

To all of you who have been so faithful to support me with your thoughts and prayers:

“I thank my God every time I remember you.
In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now….”
~ Philippians 1:3-5 ~

Maranatha, “Come, O Lord”

Wow, what a week. As usual, so much has happened, and as I sit down to try and gather my thoughts, to present an accurate representation of everything God has been doing, I am overwhelmed…He has definitely been busy here.

Shortly after posting my entry last Saturday Alisha and I headed off to camp for the week. Bags packed, buckets in hand (for the bucket bath of course), and ready for action we arrived at the ECWA Camp Youth Alive (ECYA) campsite and began getting settled in. We started with registration for the campers and talked to them as they arrived, asking them if they had asthma, allergies, or any other conditions we should know about. There were about 60 campers, all between the ages of 12 and 15, and it was fun to see all their faces as they filed in. After registration Alisha and I took our things to our room. We would be living in the “director’s house” for the week, which was basically where all the administrative staff was staying. This included the assistant director, camp manager, sports coordinator, all the cooks, the Gills (a family from New Zealand who came out to help with the camp), and Alisha and I, the camp nurses. Although our house was a little farther out from the main hall and all the huts, it was nice because we had our own bathrooms, so we didn’t have to walk out to a washhouse. Actually, Alisha and I were spoiled, because we got to have a room all to ourselves, and it was the one room with a bathroom in it. There was another bathroom in the house that everyone else shared, and although we felt bad about having a room and bathroom all to ourselves, I have to admit that we enjoyed it.

At camp, every minute of the day is basically planned out for the kids, and consequently for the staff as well…and they were pretty long days. We would wake up each morning at about 5:40 and around 5:55 the staff would stumble groggily into the main hall for group morning devotions. After devotions a whistle would be blown (a very loud whistle), which was how they would signify transitions between activities throughout the day, and next “Capers” would begin. Capers are what they call chores, so the campers would do certain tasks (such as sweeping out the main hall, cleaning the bathrooms, cutting weeds around the huts, etc.) while the staff supervised. Immediately following Capers was “Bath & Dress” time, which is pretty much self-explanatory, so all the campers and staff would bring their buckets to the kitchen to get some hot water to bathe with and then head out to the washhouse. I have to admit, bucket baths isn’t my specialty, and washing my hair is kind of a pain (they don’t really wash theirs because it’s always in braids, which you’re not really supposed to get wet), so I was lacking in the hygiene department this week…but hey, it’s camp, what do you expect. Anyway, after bath and dress was “Morning Watch,” which is when all the campers and the staff do their individual devotions. Although I was always tempted to just go back to sleep during this time, I avoided that temptation and found that it was refreshing to have this opportunity to give the day to the Lord and really focus my thoughts on Him. Honestly, this individual time with God always seemed to end too soon, and the whistle would be blown, signifying the next event, “Flag raising.” This was definitely a unique part of the day that took a little getting used to at first, but that after a while it was something I came to enjoy. After individual devotions the girls would all walk single-file o the flagpole and line up on one side of it, while the boys came from the other side and did the same. Everyone would then be called to stand at attention, with their Bibles in their left hand, and the color guard would then march in with the Nigerian flag. Thus the ceremony would begin, the flag would be passed off to someone who would raise it up on the flagpole as we all sang the Nigerian anthem and said the pledge to the Nigerian flag…neither of which I knew, but I lip synched them anyway. After the flag was raised we were told to stand at ease, the assistant director would greet us, read a passage of scripture, and then have some of the campers pray. After this was done and any other announcements were made, the color guard would march back out and everyone was dismissed for breakfast. By that time we were all more than ready for it, because when you wake up at 5:40 and breakfast isn’t until 8:50, it give you a lot of time to look forward to the meal.

Although wary at first, I came to truly enjoy food at camp. I have to admit that their meals are all very heavy and starchy, but I can’t say there was really anything I didn’t like eating. There was this okra soup that was pretty slimy, but once you got past the sliminess of it all it actually tasted pretty good. So after breakfast, each hut would go off with their hut leader to have “Bible X,” which was their group Bible study time (I don’t know if you’re noticing this, but they spend a lot of time having devotions and reading the Word…which is so awesome). There are ten huts total, five for the girls and five for the boys, and most of them are named after fruits of the spirit, with a couple other random names thrown in…the girl’s huts were Peace, Patience, Faith, Hope, and Love, while the boy’s huts were Endurance, Gentleness, Boldness, Kindness, and Warrior. At breakfast I would go around and collect the keys to each of these huts from their leaders, because during Bible X it was my job, along with the two “Hut Chiefs,” to go around and inspect the huts for cleanliness. I thought I knew the definition of clean and had a generally good idea of what organization looks like, but evidently I didn’t…these huts were insane. They stacked all their mattresses and had basically one big, perfectly-made bed in the middle of the room, they had all their bags organized in one corner, their shoes had to be lined up in a certain way against the wall (and they would get points off if the types of each shoe were not grouped together), there could be nothing in the windows or on the floor, their surrounding environment had to be free of weeds and any trash, and any slight deviation resulted in deducted points…can you say boot camp? I can, boot camp. Well maybe it wasn’t THAT bad, but it was definitely different than any camp I was a part of as a child. However, despite the foreign and strict expectations and the harsh grading system, I soon adjusted and actually enjoyed nit picking the cleanliness of each hut.

As soon as Bible X was over everyone would meet again in the main hall for a morning session, which involved singing “choruses” and having a speaker come to preach to the kids. Let me just say, I wish we sang choruses like they do…it was incredible. Everything was acapella as one staff member would lead the camp in song and all the campers would join in with these beautiful, powerful voices, harmonizing and clapping out fun syncopated rhythms. These “choruses” were not just a part of the morning service however, they were sung throughout the day…on the way to flag raising, while waiting for meals, during activities, at the night service, and basically any other time when they could be singing, someone would bust out in song. If I was ever not in the main hall when they were singing choruses I could still hear the songs, because their voices would radiate all throughout the campsite, and it always brought a smile to my face because I knew it was bringing a smile to God’s face as His children joyfully sang praises to Him.

The theme of the camp this week was “Maranatha!” which means, “Come, O Lord,” so each of the speakers that came somewhat directed the focus of their message on this topic. It was so inspiring to hear all the messages about being ready for Jesus’ coming and having encouragement to live as if He could return any minute. It is so easy to lose the excitement and anticipation of Jesus’ return amidst the demands and monotony of every day life, so it is always good to be reminded of the fact the He IS coming soon and we DO need to be living in a way that reflects an anticipation for God’s kingdom.

After the service each morning the campers split up to participate in different activities, and this is where my day would get a little bit stressful. But before I get into that let me set things up a little. During staff training Alisha and I were asked to be a part of leading an activity for the campers. After examining their gifts, talents, and interests, everyone picked an activity they would want to do with the kids, such as baking, dancing, singing, hiking, playing soccer, etc., and Alisha and I decided our best option would be teaching piano. I have taught piano before, so even though we had very little resources, I assumed everything would be fine and we could basically improvise to give these kids a foundational understanding of theory start to build in them a love for the instrument. We were told we would have two keyboards to work with and that there would be no more than four kids, two with each of us, which seemed pretty reasonable. Well, Alisha ended up not being there to teach, which I will explain shortly, and there was actually only one keyboard to work with. On top of it, although there were only four students, as promised, two were beginners, one had taken a year of piano, and the other had taken two years of piano, so they were all essentially at different skill levels. SO, there I was, one teacher, with one keyboard, four students at different levels, and an hour to try and keep their ever-wandering attention on learning this instrument. Patience is a virtue. Although I don’t believe I could have ever “lost my cool” with these campers, I definitely came close as I tried to work with each one, meeting them at their level, allowing them to play as much as possible on the keyboard, and attempting to drill foundational theory into their heads. Needless to say, I would often lose their attention as I focused on one camper and they would go off running around and doing other things, but I just hope in the midst of it all they had a little bit of fun and were able to actually “Learn ‘D’ Piano” as our activity was titled.

Lunch followed activities, and then came one of my favorite times of the day, “Rest Hour.” This title is a little deceiving, as it was never really a full hour, and most of the time it was not THAT restful, but I was still grateful. Some days I managed to take a little 15 or 20-minute nap, but others I would just read or journal. The whistle always blew too soon however, calling everyone to the next activity of the day, “Carnival Time.” This was always a great part of the day when a couple of the camp staff would entertain the campers, telling jokes and having them participate in silly games. Although I didn’t understand everything (because some of it was spoken in Hausa), I always loved hearing the camper’s laughter…such a sweet sound. After Carnival Time was “Craft Time,” and the staff was nice enough to let me join in and do a craft as well. The craft I chose was making a clock in the shape of Africa. First of all, let me just say that their crafts are hard core…they are not like the dinky little “make a picture frame out of puzzle pieces” crafts that most American children grow up with. These crafts are meant to help the campers develop skills they can use later on in life as a trade or way to help their families out and bring in some sort of income. So for this craft, the kids started out with some plywood, then they traced the shape of Africa, cut it out with a saw, drew designs, and then used glue and different shades of sand to “color” their designs. At the end, a hole was drilled in the middle so that the clock pieces could be attached, and VOILA! An African clock, in the shape of Africa.

The day then continued on with outdoor games. Let me just say, kids have way too much energy. After getting out all their yelling, screaming and running around, everyone came in for dinner, followed by the evening program, nighttime devotions with each hut, and then bed. Considering the night program finished around 9:30 or 10:00, I would go back to the house, possibly chat with some of the Nigerian staff, journal for a while, and then finally go to bed around 11:00 or 12:00…by that time I was usually rather exhausted. As I said before, they were pretty long days.

Aside from all the planned out activities, I WAS there as the camp nurse, so I spent a lot of my time talking with and caring for different campers, giving out medications, cleaning little cuts, and assessing each situation. Praise the Lord there were no serious injuries or ailments while I was there, only minor sicknesses and conditions. Honestly, the majority of people just had headaches, some accompanied by a cough, with a few cases of “runny stomach” (which as you might guess would be diarrhea), heartburn, and a couple fevers. There was one boy who got a bad rash on his legs, another boy who got kneed in the head playing soccer (yeah, there was a nice sized lump there), one ear infection, one eye infection, and a couple of other weird cases, such as a girl not being able to swallow. There were actually two cases of malaria during the camp, one in a camper and one in a staff member, and through it I learned that malaria for them, and malaria for a “Baturi” like me, are quite different. Their reaction to malaria is not really severe at all, in fact malaria is quite common, and basically presents itself as a fever, headache, and weakness, possibly with night sweats or dizziness as well. It comes and goes pretty often and is easily treated. Overall, even though I was kept very busy and it seemed there was always someone who needed something, I was so grateful there were no serious problems during the course of the camp.

When I say I was grateful there were no serious problems during the course of the camp, I really do mean that, but only in the case of the campers. Something happened that Alisha and I didn’t expect…Alisha got sick. It started off on Sunday as a migraine, so she mostly rested at the house and tried to avoid light and noise as much as possible. Her “taking it easy” didn’t help with her ever-growing tiredness however, and what was thought to be just a migraine led to a fever, dizziness, constant fatigue, continued headache, and overall weakness. She stayed in bed most of Monday and Tuesday, trying to get up a little on Monday, but finding that it drained the little energy that she did have, leaving her worse off than before. I would bring her meals and Ibuprofen throughout the day, but she seemed to not be getting any better, and her symptoms were starting to look frighteningly like malaria. So, despite her stubbornness and desire to stay at camp, she went home Tuesday night so she could see a doctor and figure out what was going on. Although of course I wanted her to feel better and was glad for her to go home to get some rest and proper treatment, I was of course very sad for her to leave. Not only is there the fact that I love being with her and experiencing everything with her, it was her birthday on Wednesday! She was being sent home on her birthday!

She was tested and it ended up that she didn’t have malaria (thank the Lord), but she does have some sort of virus, which unfortunately there is no way of treating. The good news is that she was able to come back for a little while on Wednesday to hang out and say goodbye to everyone, so I did actually get to be with her on her birthday…and I have to say, the most glorious part of that day was sitting outside with her, soaking up the warm African sunshine, and eating the peanut M&M’s we had brought from home and been saving for over a month…talk about self-control. I do not know why God works the way He does, and although I was not planning on being “camp nurse” by myself, and of course Alisha was not planning on being sick, I believe that God uses what we don’t plan for or understand to grow us in incredible ways. The means and measure of that growth is not always evident, but I know it is there. As I listened and talked with Alisha while she struggled though her frustrations, my heart broke for her and her pain over longing to serve and be healthy enough to take part in and experience this ministry. I saw her anger at why God would allow this to happen, why He would bring her out here and then render her “useless,” and although I saw in her bitterness, frustration, and stubbornness, I also saw in her a grace and humility that I don’t think she recognizes yet. Her going through this whole ordeal and working through these issues helped me to think through them as well, because honestly, if I were in her position I would react in the same exact way. Through her struggles I’ve begun to learn valuable lessons such as God does not need me to get things done…I have no strength on my own…often being still and silent before the Lord is the best way to glorify and honor Him…I am part of a body, and sometimes certain parts of the body need to rest and let the other parts do their job…and last but certainly not least, God loves me for who I am, not for what I do.

I wrote a little something a while ago called, “Child of Grace,” and since I sometimes seem to be able to express myself better through more than just plain text, I thought I’d share it with you, because it deals with some of the thoughts, feelings, and lessons I’ve been learning lately:

There comes a place when nothing can allay my restlessness,
A place where mind and body don’t agree,
When devastating silence somehow forces me to hear,
And once I close my eyes, only then I truly see.

There enters in a thought that slowly permeates my mind,
A subtle truth that somehow lingers on,
When people fail to meet my subconscious expectations,
And joy seems so far off, its fragrance almost gone.

There manifests a hope that seems alluringly to rise,
A breath of sweet security near by,
When perfect love becomes an achievable desire,
And worth is in my being, not in how hard I try.

There is a peace in letting go of everything I am,
A life that can be found in death to self,
When certainty’s replaced by a willingness to serve,
And passion in not felt, it’s lived and carried out.

There found in You is all the strength that I would ever need,
A wholeness that is felt in just one place,
When pieces start to crumble under weight I cannot bear,
And I am overwhelmed, I look into Your face,
For in Your eyes I’m what I long to be, a child of grace.

So although I greatly missed having Alisha by my side, camp in a nutshell was quite amazing. The staff was an absolute blessing and joy to be around, the campers were sweet, the days were fun-filled (although long and exhausting), and as ready as I was to come home, take a nice shower and sleep in past 6:00am, a huge part of me really wanted to stay. I was greatly blessed by the experience, and I hope that I was a blessing to everyone around me. Speaking of blessings, when I did finally get home Thursday evening, Alisha had written this beautiful letter to me saying how blessed she is by me and being my friend…I won’t go into everything she said, but it really touched and humbled me, and I couldn’t help but cry as she shared her heart with me…and of course she started crying toward the end of it…so there we were, just sitting on the couch, crying together…we are such girls, but I’m so glad.

Due to the inability to properly celebrate Alisha’s 20th birthday on the actual day, this weekend was somewhat dedicated to its celebration. The guys were sweet enough to bake a cake for her after dinner Thursday night, on Friday I put up some birthday decorations and a poster I’d made for her before the trip, and then Saturday we had some friends over for a little birthday dinner…and of course I had to make another cake for her, because everyone deserves at least two cakes on their 20th birthday. I know it wasn’t the ideal birthday scenario, but I just hope she knows how loved she is…because it’s a lot.

One new exciting development is that another short-term medical student just arrived and will be living with us for our last week and then staying in the apartment for another five weeks after we leave. Her name is Gemma, she is from Northern Ireland, and she is actually friends with Tim and Dan from their school. She is such a sweetheart and Alisha and I are already loving her company. Oh yes! And another exciting development! As of yesterday morning my computer charger was completely useless, therefore rendering my computer itself useless as well. I had gone to see one of the SIM staff that is in charge of all the technical and computer work to see if there was anything that could be done, but he said there really wasn’t, and hopefully if it was under warranty so the company would replace it, which was honestly the answer I was expecting. However, after I got back from hearing that news, Dan asked if he could mess with the cord a little, and I figured sure, why not, it’s already broken and useless anyway, go for it (I didn’t really think he would actually fix anything). So he busts out his little pocketknife, some foil, and scotch tape, and inside I’m kind of rolling my eyes, but after he finished and asked if he could try it out, he plugged it in and it worked! I was amazed, and oh so grateful…all hail Dan, master computer charger fixer (or something like that).

Well, coming to the end of our fifth week, I don’t even want to think about the fact that there is only one more left. I pray that these last days would be just as stretching and eye-opening as the rest of our time and that God would continue to get the glory through everything I say and do. I am praising God this week for ECWA Youth Camp Alive, for the incredible staff and all the campers who were saved or rededicated their lives, as well as for the fact that none of them had any serious injuries or illnesses. I look forward to the last week in the hospital, hopefully working in obstetrics and gynecology, I’m sure it will be a great experience…and as usual, God is so faithful!

PRAYER REQUESTS
-For Alisha’s health, she is not getting much better and it has been a week now. She barely has any energy, and if she so much as walks to a neighbor’s house she is exhausted and needs to lie down. I know she is frustrated and in pain, so pray that she would be able to regain enough strength to spend some time in the hospital this week before we go.
-For the senior campers at ECWA Camp Youth Alive this week, that God would work in mighty ways and bring more of His children to himself through the program there.
-For Gemma as she settles in and adjusts to living here, that she would be rested and prepared for her experience.

Silly camp nurses...waiting for campers to arrive.

CRAZY DAY!! Ha, I love having an excuse to look ridiculous...

"Craft Time" African clocks...I was so proud of myself for sawing that out all by myself.

Gorgeous Nigerian sky...it is always so beautiful here.

The camper in the middle was named Delight...I just love that, they have the greatest names.

Serving up a spaghetti dinner with Rene - now that's a lot of noodles!

Treating a rash on one of the camper's legs.

Although I would much rather NOT be awake at 5:45 in the morning, I guess this sunrise does make up for it just a little bit.

Uncle David, or shall I say "King David," which he transforms into while wearing that outfit...this guy was so hilarious.

Happy 20th Birthday Alisha!

Those who cannot help themselves… A Blessing in disguise

Blessing. This is one of those words so often thrown around and used in various situations, but what does it really mean? I know I use it fairly frequently, but I don’t think I have ever stopped to think about its implications…until now. According to dictionary.com, one of the definitions for this word is, “A favor or gift bestowed by God, thereby bringing happiness.” I could not agree more with this definition having now come to the end of another week, as I have literally seen it come to life.

Being on the pediatric (or “paediatric” as they spell it here) ward this week definitely had a different dynamic than any of the other weeks we’ve spent here. First of all, the week started off unexpectedly because I had somewhat of a cold, so I actually stayed home Monday morning to sleep in and rest, while Alisha went to the hospital. I have to admit I hated having to miss out on a day of experiencing and learning new things, but it was good for me to take it easy…especially because the last thing I wanted to do was get one of the already immunocompromised children sick. Monday turned out not to be as relaxing as I’d imagined however, at least later the evening, because something happened that no one would have ever expected. A young man named Nathan, from a team that had just arrived from North Carolina that very morning, was climbing down from a tower at his compound, which proved to be unstable, and the structure fell on top of him breaking both his legs. He had an open fracture of his left femur, meaning the break had broken the skin, and a convoluted fracture of his right tibia (or “shin” bone). As soon as we found out he had been taken to Evangel, Alisha, Tim, Dan and I all went down to the “emergency room” to see what was going on and if we could help in any way. Nathan was only 15 years old, he had been in the country less than 12 hours, and having broken both his legs he was showing such incredible strength. To call him a “trooper” would be an understatement. Thankfully there was a doctor on the team who accompanied him to the hospital, along with his older sister Katie, and we all waited around as he got x-rays and the next course of action was decided.

God is so good, because it just happens that an orthopedic surgeon from the states was visiting and would be able to operate and externally stabilize Nathan’s injuries. He would have to be flown out of the country as soon as possible to receive further treatment, but Nathan was able to go into surgery that night. Also, although the surgeon had gastric enteritis and was somewhat “under the weather” (he actually had to receive an IV line to boost his fluids after completing the surgery), by the grace of God he was visiting when the accident happened…God’s timing is so great, I love it. To make along story short, a lot of planning, logistics, and craziness took place in the next 24 hours, but it ended up that the organization Nathan was with had evacuation insurance, so he was going to fly down to Johannesburg, South Africa, in an air ambulance. His dad would meet him there, he would receive the needed surgery to internally stabilize his injuries, and then he would return to the states after having some time to rest and heal. Praise be to God, we received word tonight that he was safely flown out, has received the necessary surgery, and is recovering well so far.

Amidst all the excitement and insanity of that accident, things in the hospital of course carried on as usual, and Alisha and I got to experience some of pediatrics, which might not have been what we expected…but God often chooses not work within the limits of our expectations. Having been in the hospital for about three full weeks now, I still can’t say I understand the whole doctor, nurse, patient, family relationship and interactions. We actually spent all of our time with the doctors this week, because the role of the nurses is quite different, and not necessarily good or bad, just different. In regards to pediatrics, the family (mostly the mother) does all the patient care, such as feeding, cleaning, caring for, etc., so really most of what the nurse does is monitoring vitals, IV drip rates, and documenting. Although this is all incredibly important to do, Alisha and I decided it would be better to stick with the doctors so we could learn and experience more of the assessments, diagnosis, treatment, and overall critical thinking regarding these young children. Our daily routine included going on rounds to review all the cases and assess the status and progress of each child, followed by time in the clinic. There are actually two different pediatric clinics, one is the PEPFAR (President’s Emergency Plan For AIDS Relief) clinic, which is funded by the initiative that Bush instigated to fight the HIV/AIDS pandemic. This is a place where children with the virus, or children born of parents who are infected, can come to receive antiretroviral treatment (ART) every other month. The other pediatric clinic is simply for follow-up appointments with patients who have been discharged from the hospital but need periodic check-ups. Generally, going through rounds and getting through all the patients waiting at the clinic takes up most of the day, so Alisha and I would normally leave shortly after clinic.

Since things in pediatrics were a little slower going than anticipated, we decided to make the most of our time by participating in some other outreaches outside of the hospital. The problem with outside ministries usually comes down to the fact that we don’t have transportation, but thankfully this week we asked to tag along with the team from North Carolina, and they were sweet enough to accommodate us. Due to this accommodation we were able to go back to Gidan Bege and Blind Town on Wednesday, which was once again an amazing experience. It was actually a little different this time because there were less medical people there, so Alisha and I got to do more than we had before. Starting out at Gidan Bege with the clinic for the widow’s ministry, we once again took blood pressures, did quick assessment, and administered needed medications. We were able to treat 41 women in the short time we were there, so that was exciting, and it is truly a wonderful feeling being a part of that ministry. Just like last time, we once again split into two groups to go into blind town, but Alisha and I split up this time, as we were really the only medial people present, and each went with one of the Nigerian women to one side of town. I actually ended up going to the same section that I went to the first time, but it turned out to be kind of fun because I got to see some of the same people, and they remembered me! Being in Blind Town for the second time, I was filled with the same feelings of satisfaction and peace, along with the unexplainable joy of watching and being a part of helping those who cannot help themselves…of seeing a need and meeting it, as simple as that.

We also got to go with the team from North Carolina on Thursday out to a village called Gyero. There is a ministry at Gyero (as well as at a place in the city called “Transition House”) for street boys. Once these boys spend anywhere from six months up to a year going through the program at Gidan Bege, in turn proving that they are committed to change and are not going to just run back to the streets, they either go to Gyero or Transition House to continue the program. The age-range of boys at Gyero was from about seven up to twenty years old, and the average boy stays for about ten years. Once this time is up, they are either sent to boarding school or are re-united with their families if possible. There are also girls at Gyero, but their numbers are a lot less, as it is not as common for girls to be on the streets. Gyero is a beautiful place out in the country and it was such a joy to see all the boys and girls there, to sing songs with them, walk around the village with them, talk with them, and climb up hills with them, which I probably should not have done wearing flip-flops…considering how slick the mud is after the rain, and how traction-less I knew my shoes were…let’s just say that was an interesting, and slightly humiliating experience. I had to have one of the local boys hold my hand and help me down, but I was still having trouble, so I ended up just taking my shoes off. So there I was, in a very ungraceful and unladylike way, sliding down the hill in my nice skirt and bare feet, while the rest of the team (who of course had already reached the bottom quite a while before me), watched from below…it was fabulous. Overall however, it was another incredible experience with another wonderful ministry that I know God is working through in mighty ways.

But back to the hospital…out of all the children we saw this week, and there were many, I am just going to focus on one. It is not that the other cases didn’t interest me or affect my outlook on life and medicine, but this little girl did so much more than that…she touched my heart. A recent admission at four weeks old, she was brought in with severe abdominal distention (swelling) and a persistent fever, which had been present for about a week. At the point when we were examining her with the doctors while on rounds, she had not passed stool in two days, she was bleeding out of her nasogastric tube, and the swelling of her abdomen was so bad that it was pushing up on her diaphragm causing her breathing to be more like gasping. After much discussion and observation it was decided that the “medical” aspect of her care had come to an end, as the medications she had been given were not helping her condition, so the doctors agreed her case needed to be transferred over to a “surgical” team. The problem however was that there was no official diagnosis for what was causing her condition, so the surgery would have to be exploratory, meaning the doctors would open up her abdomen to see what was going on inside and then try to fix whatever it was they found…a very dangerous procedure in this case.

There are some aspects of other people’s culture that I will never understand, and as much as a society progresses, things don’t just change overnight. I learned this the hard way as I found out that the reason this baby girl was in the hospital in the first place was because when she was just one week old, her mother took her to a “chemist” to receive “traditional medicine” according to her tribe’s customs. Most likely the baby was crying too much or something seemed wrong, so a “concoction” was made out of pepe (a very spicy seasoning) and other herbs for the mother to give to the little girl…which was basically poison. This drink was given for a week, and although told to continue giving it, the mother stopped because her baby was having watery stool. Shortly after that the baby got a fever, which went on for about a week before there were signs of abdominal distention, and THEN they brought the baby into the hospital. One of the sad things is that there was a woman in the village who said she had given this drink to all her children to “make them strong.” If they survived the treatment they were strong and if not they were weak, but really, those that survive end up having stunted growth and other problems later on, and those that didn’t survive…well, I was staring right at her.

Regardless of how she got to where she was, the doctors had to do everything in their power to deal with the current situation, which at that moment meant talking to the parents about surgery. It was essential that the parents fully understood the fact that their baby would die if they took her out of the hospital at that time without further treatment, but at the same time, the surgery was incredibly dangerous and there was no assurance of success. Once things were thoroughly explained to all family members present (which included the parents as well as the baby’s uncle), they were given some time to go outside and talk it over. When they came back in and the uncle said, “We are not satisfied with the surgery,” you could almost hear the hearts of everyone else in the room drop…I couldn’t believe it. He said they wanted to just take her out of the hospital and go back to their village. So, as the doctors once again explained the situation, reiterating the fact that she WOULD die if they did not go through with the surgery, I started praying. I asked the Lord to open up the minds of the parents to reason, I asked for healing of this little girl, just lying there helpless as the people around her determined her fate, and I prayed for understanding on my part as to why things had to be this way. What saddened as well as infuriated me even more was the fact that it was the uncle, not the mother or father, who seemed to be making this decision! It was obvious that the mother wanted to do whatever was necessary to help her baby girl, as she tried to hide her tears while listening to the baby gasp for breath.

After the second lecture from the doctors, the family once again stepped out of the room, and I continued praying…I wanted so much to just lay hands on that helpless little girl and call on the healing power of Jesus to restore her broken body, but instead I just continued to pray for the family to have a change of heart. Alisha and I actually had to leave the hospital for one of our outreaches before we were able to hear the family’s final decision, and although every ounce of me longed to know the outcome, I have to admit there was also a part of me that didn’t want to know. I couldn’t bear the thought of them deciding to take her out of the hospital and her dying before they even got to the front gate. This whole situation brought out so many feelings in me that all jumbled together: anger, disgust, sorrow, confusion, doubt, bitterness, and so much more. It’s easy to look at and blame the parents, but it’s so much more than that – it’s the culture, it’s a mindset, it’s the way of life, and it takes more than just one sick baby to change that.

It’s not that I question God, His goodness, His justice, and His perfect plan and control of everything in this life, but this type of situation does raise up some questions for me. Why would this baby girl come into this world to suffer for four weeks and then die, causing grief and pain to her family, the very people who stripped her of her right to possibly have a normal life and some day be a grown woman in the first place? It is so incomprehensible to me, because I know she is a child of God and that He created her and loves her more than I could ever fathom…but I also know that God knows our bodies inside and out, that He is the ultimate healer, and it would be no problem at all for Him to just reach down and heal her completely. However, despite all those things, there she was, lying there, dying at four weeks old.

Little did I know, this baby girl was actually “A favor or gift bestowed by God, thereby bringing happiness.” We got a phone call later that evening from one of the doctors assigned to the case, saying that the family had changed their minds and decided to go ahead with the surgery. There was still really not a definitive diagnosis once they opened her up, because they just found a lot of pus in the abdominal cavity, due to peritonitis, which they cleaned out and then closed her back up. Although after the surgery she was still somewhat gasping for air and her abdomen was slightly distended, there was definite improvement and a good chance for recovery. Praise God…He is so faithful, even when I am not. Even when I struggle with accepting and trusting in His infinite wisdom, strength, and power, He never ceases to amaze and humble me. After hanging up with the doctor and giving me all this good news, Alisha adds, “Oh yeah, and her name is Blessing.” I don’t know if hearts can smile, but at that moment, mine was.

I am now getting ready to enter into the week of being a “camp nurse” and I am truly looking forward to the experience. I don’t know how much it will grow me medically, but I do know that God is going to do great things, grow friendships with the other counselors, and teach me so much as I work with the kids and other staff members. I am praising God this week for healing my cold, revealing Himself to me through Blessing, and allowing me to be a part of the awesome ministries already taking place here in Nigeria.

PRAYER REQUESTS:
-That everyone at camp would stay healthy and there would be no serious injuries.
-Claudia, the camp director, has been very sick for the past few days, so all her work is being delegated to others, making everything a lot more stressful for the other leaders…so Claudia needs prayer for a quick recovery.
-That I would be a help and encouragement to everyone around me at camp.

The crew from Evangel...saying goodbye to Rachel.

Some of the street boys taken into Gidan Bege.

Wow, the kids all look so serious...

Going on a tour of Gyero.

The girls at Gyero sang a song for us...it was beautiful.

Gabriella...such a cutie!

Going on a little hike!

On top of a hill...such a gorgeous view.

Disgusting feet...and I don't think my shoes will ever be the same.

Blessing.