reviving the ramblings

(A long winded, muddle of emotion and muck...possibly making no sense at all but bringing a deep breath to my soul.)

Ya, it's true. I haven't written on here for greater than 6 months. It makes me sad too.  It hurts that I see there's a Christmas message I never posted. Partially because the conclusion of it never came. Partial because it felt like I couldn't be 100% real and if I can't do that, I don't feel authentic enough to be.

I guess seasons change. Sometimes life is harder than others. Much time I can gloat about this wonderful life I'm living. Sometimes it feels so hard I don't know how I ever ended up here. It hurts that the biggest distraction of my life has had to be a social media secret to protect our family and the future of it. That makes it hard to be true.

During these last 6 months we've hosted visitors, we celebrated birthdays  and other days. My patients on the palliative care program have come and gone (and shoot, I haven't kept up on the tributes I promised). We've started homeschooling 2 eager children. I've planted flowers that have come and died. I've planted them again. Life trucks on and you find what you need to do to keep trucking with it or risk being lost in your bed looking for a Narnia door under your covers.
I've found other things that I love to do that have provided some refreshment that I desperately needed.

And now, as I sit to "revitalize" my blog my words are all muddled and my heart is all twisty. There's a part of me that just wants to cry and cry for hours, there's another part that wants to stand tall with all the strength that I can must and sing out "Whatever my lot thou hast taught me to say, it is well, it is well, with my soul." There's another part that wants to crumble on to the floor and say "but it isn't." There's a part of me that has so much hope and excitement for the future that I don't want to go to bed tonight but then there's that other part that knows what every morning feels like -- I don't want to get out of bed.

You see, my best friend died 3 weeks ago. Thankfully I was able to return for her service and time with friends and family. It was as beautiful and wonderful and necessary and healing and worshipful and absolutely amazing as I could ever have dreamed it could be. But, in addition to all that "hard" it doesn't take into account the jetlag and the nauseous feeling it brings. Or, that you leave your family behind and run to catch flights and maneuver around 115# of luggage on your own because you don't get to go to Target every week. Or, what it feels like to see REALLY special people (like Mom's and Dad's, Sisters and families, friends and nieces and nephews and Trevors) for a few minutes just to scratch that surface of "how are you" without time to hear the response. Or, if you had time to hear the response the context is so different I can hardly get to the point of understanding that I'd like to obtain. And then you come home and many are sick and the poor still live just there and you wonder yet again, "how was I just there" in the blizzard and sushi, and now I'm here. How do these coexist and how was it that I found my place in it all?

While this may sound like complaining or a cry for help. It's not meant to. It's meant to say "Wow! We live in a confusing world. Where your healthiest best friend can get cancer and die and your kids also lost their mom's and you find yourself in the middle of it and you want to help but sometimes you wonder if your helping hurts and sometimes it's so easy to lift your arms and praise God and sometimes you just bawl when you hear "It is Well" because she believed it and you want to but you only want to with her at your side. And sometimes you can't believe how lucky you are in the life that you get to live and sometimes you just want to be a normal cafe barista and not know the difference." But, in the end, what I think I come to is this, don't waste it. Don't do anything to get by, do what you do to make a difference and do something that's worth it, no matter what. With all that I feel and have felt, I'm still SO GRATEFUL to sit right here, staring at these make-shift curtains dreamed up from someone else's rags. I feel so lucky to have hard questions to wrestle and deep pain to seek healing for. Because when I can actually clear my head of my dramatic emotions I do believe with every ounce of me, and I know she would say and is saying over me, in the end (and even now), IT IS WELL, IT IS WELL WITH MY SOUL!

Tribute: tough love

This is a tribute I wrote many months ago but never posted. It was one of the hardest lives and deaths I dealt with in my hospice years of nursing...


Dear Mano,
After visiting you for nearly 2 years, walking through the thick and thin, of course we ache after your death. More than anything we hope that when we were "hard" on you, when we were frustrated with your decisions, when I yelled at you in anger, I pray you knew it was out of love. Tough love hurts. And, when we saw you making decisions that hurt others, it hurt us. And after your death, we saw the aches and our hearts ached. We loved you despite, because, who are we to judge your brokenness?What you needed most was love. I hope you felt loved, to the end. To the last breath. And, in those moments, I pray that you knew His love, his forgiving love of reconciliation and new life. Yes, this is what I pray.  You left behind beautiful children and we'll always stand to testify that you loved them. That, we know for sure. Tough love hurts but it was out of love. I promise.
Forever loved,
your team

Happy Thanksgiving

I woke up today and as per my norm took a quick glance at Facebook before getting out of bed. It was only a few minutes after that that I started to feel decently sorry for myself as I saw all the beautiful thanksgiving greetings. My mind wandered to what my family in the US would be doing today. I remembered the years of waking to mom cooking and me being lazy watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. And then I realized what I'd be doing today. The same exact thing I've been doing EVERY SINGLE Thursday for 21/2 years.

I got busy with my morning routine and all was well. We listened to Christmas music as we drove down the dirt road visiting the patients we visit every Thursday. I told my friends what a special day it is in America and I thought about things I'm thankful for. At one visit, the girls sang a song and I looked around, clapping, taking in where in the world I was. I felt grateful to be right where I was.

As our day wrapped up and we were heading home we were flagged down on the road. I stopped the car and several children came running to the road. Following them was a young woman and her son. Several times this lady has stopped us on the road asking us for help in caring for her young son. Last week she stopped us because her son had a large wound on his little leg. She had taken him to the local hospital  and was only given one piece of advice. "Open an ink pen and spread the ink from inside it on his wound." I laughed in frustration and gave her an antiseptic and the appropriate wound ointment. She gratefully thanked us and we went on our way. Today, she stopped us with a chicken in her hands. I tried to decline it and assure her that is was our pleasure to help her dear son. But, as generous Mozambicans do, she insisted that we accept her gift. Then she responded, "Este è boa festa!" (translated: this is for a good holiday). She didn't know that it's a special day in my culture but her thanksgiving towards us made me thankful to be away from the US today. I am grateful to be right where I am.

We will celebrate. On Saturday there will be pie. There will be stuffing. There might be turkey (or chicken). There my be cranberries if they can be rehydrated from craisons. And there will be friends. Special friends that I never would have known had my journey not lead me to this place, a world away, away from the USA.

I am so grateful! (But I still miss my family and friends.)

Happiest Thanksgiving from our hearts to yours!

something's changing

Something's happening. There's a shift coming. I do believe it. I await eagerly to continue to see what the Lord is doing. There's darkness here. MUCH. There's witchcraft, just plain evil. People dying. People being abandoned, forgot, left for dead.

A few weeks ago we saw him. A listless 4 year old, barely catching a breath every few seconds, floppy and as good as gone. Eighteen family members were there waiting for him to die because, you see, as long as they're there “paying their respects” the spirit of this dying boy won't be mad. And, they'll likely get a good meal. Worth the wait.

They thought.

Along came a crazy white woman and her faithful friends and they would NOT stand to see this child thrown a way. It's the first time in my life that I got so mad I wanted to start a fist fight with this young father how seemed indifferent in the passing of his beautiful son. And what about the mom? What all has happened that she's too scared or too lost or too paralyzed from her motherly instinct of life and love for those who have come from her womb. Imagine if I ever lost the fight for my cherished ones? The hopelessness and guilt must suffocate.

The family put up a strong fight. They were not willing to the hospital. They were NOT going to go. But, they were toe to toe with this white woman willing to fight and determined to win. I prayed. I prayed and prayed that God would use this opportunity to bring His glory to this DARK place-- where witchcraft is given far more respect than fear of the Lord. Will God shine through this time and start the needed shift in this area?

I doubted this little one would live. He was far gone. I prayed anyway.

I prayed. We all prayed. Wouldn't it be wonderful???....

We got news twice that he was still admitted in the hospital. Will he come home? Alive?

The next week we were visiting another patient and, walking towards us was the man whose face I had wanted to punch in. The change was incredible. Had I not been told, I wouldn't have known who this man was. And, in his arms was a bright eyed, glowing, chatty 4 year old boy. My heart sang praises. “The Lord has done a miracle! Can you recognize this and give glory to the one and only in whom it is due?” THANK YOU LORD! Not only to the testimony of modern medicine to treat malaria but to the fact that you are the God who fights for the voiceless. Those who awaited his death went home hungry because you Lord care about the least of these!

Even my team needed this amazing encouragement. Though the cerebral malaria has robbed him the use of his legs we've continued to see improvement and we prayerfully believe he will be running and playing again. This area needs to turn from the darkness and see the LIGHT that is Jesus.

And then this week, we were called 200 meters from this young boys house to a very ill man. We arrived to hear the witch doctor's casting out the curses that they believed to have been possessing this young man. Our team refused to be okay with this practice being the solution. I prayed with all of my being that the Holy Spirit would show up and shift this environment. His glory must keep shining in this area-- He promises to complete any good work that He has begun, I needed to remind myself. Come on Lord be visibly present again! Come on, my spirit shouted!

And, after a fair amount of time praying and dwelling in this dark hut with 2 witch doctors, we left the man who had been groaning and contracting his arms in agony, in peace. Yes, peace! And, as the witch doctor ran after us trying to give us money we were able to decline it and say, “It's only God. Praise be to Him!”

I don't know how he'll be next week. But...I wonder if we'll find him sitting up conversing with us? I think we might because, God is up to something big! The environment is shifting and may the love of Jesus that we bring be the change that this area needs-- to bring Him the Glory!

Pray with us! Come Lord Jesus, on earth as it is in heaven!

we fight for life

It's surely not the first time that I've realized this, that sometimes we're the only ones fighting for life. Despite what some may believe, our palliative care team spends a heavy portion of our time educating and fighting for the value of one's life.

Yesterday was one of the hardest visit days that I've had. My heart had been heavy all week about the loss of a long time patient and then, we were unexpectedly called to see one of our patients grandsons. Four years old, holding onto life with every breath. Parents sitting by waiting for death. For whatever reason of darkness they have lost their parental fight. To make it worse, in their dark state, they've likely hastened death by using witch craft and false prophecy-- paying large sums of money and then telling us they don't have the few dollars necessary to utilize the local hospital.

I shook with anger. Words were flying from my tongue-- if the parents won't fight for him then we must. And, what about the other 15 family members that had gathered around waiting for death? My righteous anger boiled!

These events of the week broke me. I cried.

I sat and cried, tired of the fight, tired of decisions that others make and there affects. Though I know  what we do is of  most importance, sometimes I'm tired.

And in my tired state I said "Lord, it's too much..." and He, as he  graciously does,  he reminded me that...

"Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy." Psalm 126:5

And that, dear friends, is enough to know that we must keep going. Sometimes we are the only ones that seem to care. And often my day may end with nursing notes that turn to prayers simply stating...

Please Lord-- we fight for his life! 

Tribute: Grateful

And you, sweet soul, were the first of our 70+ patients that wanted to offer your financial gratitude for our care. On our first visit you pulled out the money that you had to reimburse us for our "trouble". Oh, how I hope that you knew you were NO TROUBLE. Of course we declined your money and assured you that  we were there to help because God asks us to. Oh, how we all hoped things would end differently for you because we knew you cherished your life and every breath. We wanted to "fix" everything and make you well. We couldn't. You obviously were a special woman. We saw this clearly through the eyes of your dear mother. Who, like everyone else, ached as she buried her daughter-- we wish no one had to do this.

But your gratitude, it's your gratitude that stands out in my mind. You were so grateful. Just as I believe the Lord desires us to be-- full of gratitude, no matter our circumstances. And, yours were not easy, but your attitude remained positive and your heart was grateful. I'd like to be more like you beautiful one!

Tribute: you found peace

The things I remember most from our months together are this...

-your heart breaking as you feared your daughter doing things that could lead her down the same path you were suffering on. It was obvious you want your children's lives to look different than how your life has ended up.

-we rejoiced as you rallied, after having felt hopeless. You were so sweet in your gratitude to us. You sang praises of gratefulness, even with your voice still weak and wavering. It was clear that you were praising from the depths of your heart.

-we were able to watch you go from relationships needing restoration, your inner turmoil nagging, until you arrived at a place of peace--peace that was tangible in your tiny home.

-you taught me that sometimes we have to take care of physical pain and suffering before we're able to understand the love of a loving heavenly Father. Sometimes one needs to feel they're loved in the physical before understanding the love in the spiritual.

Although I wish I could have changed your life circumstances, it was lovely to see your mother caring for you and your daughters not leaving your side. I wish we could have seen you in your prime of life but I praise that we got to watch you go from suffering to dignity into a peaceful eternity. I pray for blessings and protection on your family, in your absence.  Love, our friend!

a beautiful fragrance

I'll admit. Sometimes I get the Facebook blues. I see America turning into a summer fun fest. I see friends going to all the places I love. I see the wardrobes adjusting and I see family gatherings. I even had the thought recently, "Wow, people get to do fun things multiple times per week!" like go out to eat, go shopping, the movies, a park, the library! Although our days are never mundane, they aren't filled with the "fun" I know. I long for a Starbucks, a menu where all the items are available, a choice of restaurants, a grocery store not infested with cockroaches and rats...yes, I long to go out after dark and do something nice--even once a month! Yes, sometimes I feel sorry for me.

But then, yesterday while doing what I love, I sat with a patient and realized, "this is one incredible human being." If I were anywhere else I wouldn't know her. Just sitting with her, I knew with a deep sense of knowing, that because of her, I'm in the center of His will. Sitting with her felt like a beautiful fragrance to the Lord and I realized, it's okay my family and I miss out on other things because these relationships are the sweetest, and this life, though not easy, means something and because of it, I get to know her...

AND HIM!

Tribute: Fighting cancer

And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. 1 Peter 5:10 

Suffered, she did. Into Christ Glory we pray.

She showed up at the gate of our house. Her daughter desperate. They unveiled the hole in her face and I knew, sick as it sounds, this will be our "perfect palliative care case."  The family, bless them, had done all that they could. Utilized the entire health care system that was available to them. And, within that, they had done the best with the resources they had. But, when they use the word cancer here in Mozambique, that usually means the health care system is done. They have little knowledge and more than anything, no resources. So then, the family, in their desperate desire to do something, had hired a community nurse. This typically means a lot money was spent and things may have been ingested, injected and infected with any number of harmful substances. Someone got rich and some one's still dying.

We had the pleasure of visiting her for many months. Sometimes she just made us laugh-- her understanding of cancer was zip, nada, NONE. And, her educational background to give her some understanding, 3rd grade at best? She believed there was a fish bone or chicken foot growing under her skin and, perhaps the witch doctor could bite it out. (Yes, you read that right, that's a belief and people pay to have it done. Black magic does exist.) Thankfully she never tried this and, to the best of our ability we kept her clean, comfortable and encouraged.  It was a difficult situation (at best), a nightmare in the end. She prayed and begged for months for Jesus to take her home because she was just NOT getting better. With her son and his multiple wives caring for her, there was grace enough for each day and you have to be amazingly strong to live with cancer. Finally the "God of all grace" called her into "glory in Christ" and she was "restored, confirmed, strengthened and established." In the end, it ends well. What a  joy to bring this hope. 

Thanks for your prayers

I don't have the time, the energy, the heart to sit down and write an email to everyone who's encouraged us over the last week. I want to share our deep gratitude. Thank you. We appreciate and continue to desperately need your prayers and love.

I cant' stop listening to this Ellie Holcomb song...it's encouraged me during this really difficult time. I haven't arrived at the peace it claims but I'm striving for it. Pray with us?