more Christmas ponderings

There is always one verse that stands out to me when I am reading the Christmas story. Luke 2:19 says, "But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart." There was a lot going on-- shepherds, angels, corrupt leaders, census taking, babies being born. Ok, one Baby. But still, he was no ordinary baby. And in the midst of it all the author takes a moment to insert this sweet interlude. Mary treasured all these things and pondered them in her heart. She didn't just go along for the ride. She was invested and didn't want to miss out on the meaning of one miraculous minute.

I feel like there is a lesson in there for me. Do I take that time? Do I treasure all the amazing things going on around me. 

As you know, I spent this week delivering Christmas to the kids at several orphanages. It is a time that is often hectic, taking it all in can be difficult. As a way to remember the week and thank those who donate towards it we make a video. It is aMAzing! I can't get enough of it. I was there when it happened, but I can't stop watching the faces, the joy, the amazement, the miracle of it all. 


Click here to watch the video for yourself, it is so much better than me trying to describe it to you.


So, as Christmas is here and we celebrate the birth of Mary's baby. The inspiration of her own treasuring and pondering, our Savior, Jesus Christ-- let's all take some time to stop, to treasure, to ponder the miracles in our own lives.


Merry Christmas!

My Christmas is a little bit different.

 I think I say this every year, but it's true-- Christmas in Liberia is just not the same.

It is hot and sticky. The bombardment of advertising and media yelling at you that it is Christmas-- be happy already, is replaced by ceaseless requests for 'something small' and reminders that 'their Christmas is on me." (In fact, I've already been interrupted three times writing this blog.)

Despite the differences, this year feels more like Christmas. (What does that mean? How does it 'feel' like Christmas?) I have been trying to decide why. What's different? This is my third Christmas in Liberia, and the first time it has really 'felt' like Christmas. Is it familiarity? Tradition? I've been here long enough to say, "This is what we have done the last few years..."

For what ever reason, there are things that make this time of year seem Christmassy to me. Wrapping Christmas presents, Christmas lights and songs and cookies and decorating a tree. Most of those things have not been available to me here in years past. But, as we say here, Liberia is coming up. Wrapping paper is being sold at the supermarkets. My neighbors have Christmas lights strung on their house. I have an oven now and a plethora of baked goods have been produced. Men are selling Christmas trees on the streets in town, carrying them on their heads, I even saw someone trying to stuff one into the back of a full taxi. I bought one for five dollars.

There is a decorated tree in my living room with wrapped presents underneath it. What?

Christmas in Liberia has also become about the Children. I guess that may be obvious, I  am here working with orphans. Each December we spend days, preparing, sorting, piling up, wrapping-- clothes, shoes, toys, apples (an apple means, I love you), for the kids. Christmas delivery days are the best. Well, they are a lot of hard work and some times frustrating. But, there is always a moment where it all makes sense. A moment where I remember why I am here.

This was THE moment for me this year. The moment where it all made sense. The moment that Lucky's eyes  met mine, her whole face-- those amazing eyes, lit up. She felt it and so did I.

CHRISTMAS!

Whether or not those physical 'Christmassy' things are making a difference this year, I am learning more and more that things being different does not mean it is bad. And Christmas is not about where you are as much as it is about who you love. I love God, my friends, family, and the kiddos here, no matter where I am in the world. That alone brings the joy of Christmas close.

PS

Just re-read this from a card my mom gave me a few months ago--

"The provision for the need you face will be met through His incredible resources."

Amen.

Provision (because I don't know another word to describe it)

I have been talking a lot about need lately. Today I want to talk about provision.

Nothing has really changed. Babies still have birth defects. Houses burn down. Parents have a hard time finding money to feed their children. I should still be overwhelmed with it all, but I am not. I was chatting with a friend the other day and he asked me what had changed. I didn't even have to think about it. Prayer. I know that people are praying for me, I can feel it. Along with that, I have been able to realize that as much as I may want to, I can not do it all. Even more, it is not my job to save them all. It is only my job to love them. My dad reminded me recently to find out what God is doing and join him it. It really takes the pressure off. God has provided me with peace and assurance that I don't have to do it all. And I don't cringe anymore when someone comes to my porch.

About a month ago I shared Oretha's story. God provided abundantly. More than enough money came in, but there is more. I was a bit uneasy about the hospital where Oretha was going to have her surgery. I kept praying about it, worrying about the care she would receive (or not receive) there. I had picked up the wire transfer and had no excuse not to tell her and her family about it, but for some reason I held back. I was praying about what to do. As far as I knew there was only one other hospital in the country that might be able to do the surgery, but it is very far away and really expensive. As I was talking with some friends about the situation, one said he had just been at another small hospital in town. While he was there he heard that they had doctors and nurses from the states here and were looking for people who needed specific surgeries-- including for goiters! First thing the next morning I went down to the clinic to check it out. It was true. Oretha went for an evaluation on Wednesday, she received a complete worked up, and is scheduled for surgery on MONDAY!

Please keep praying.

I know that God will keep providing.

An apple means "I love you."

One of my favorite things about Christmas in Liberia is delivering gift bundles to the children. After weeks of planning, collecting, sorting, and wrapping, I get to see the shining smiles of the kids as they open their presents (usually the only one they will receive), try on shoes, and model new clothes. Originally, we included an orange with the Christmas bundles. A piece of fruit seemed to be a smart addition to the other sweets that are often included in Christmas celebrating.

However, last year, that changed. Throughout the year, we noticed that, every time a child was drawing an apple, they would start with a heart shape and add a stem. If we were giving out heart shaped stickers, they would thank us for the “apple” sticker. There seemed to be a distinct connection between apples and hearts. We started to wonder if the children in Liberia see apples as a sign of love, like children in the US see hearts as a sign of love.

To put our theory to the test, we substituted apples for the oranges in the Christmas bundles. At each home, the children’s names were called and bundles distributed so all the children could open their gifts at the same time. As the bundles were opened we started hearing gasps of joy. The gasps were not over the candy, a Hot Wheel car, or new tooth brush; they were for the apples. Faces lit up as children held their apples up to show their friends.

I then asked the kids, “Do you know why we put an apple in your Christmas bundle this year?” At every orphanage, they were quick to reply, “Because an apple means love.”

They got it! 

Apples are definitely being included in the Christmas bundles again this year.
Follow this link to help spread some apple-love this Christmas.

(Ok, yes, I posted this a few days ago on the ORR website, but wanted my Deb in Liberia readers to see it too.)

Bombardment of need

A sick pregnant woman. 

An abandoned baby with a birth defect.

An unconscious 19 month old boy who's been having seizures.

Two separate mother's who have passed away.

A 17 year old who drowned.

A broken leg.

A goiter that needs to be removed.

Unable to pay school fees.

Unable to pay rent.

Unable to feed family.

Lost job, and all money stolen.

House destroyed by fire.

These are the needs that have been brought to my porch in just the last few weeks. These needs represent family and friends and people in my community. Each one has a face and a name I know. The level of need is unmeasurable. It is so deep I have gotten lost somewhere in between. I can't help them all. I wish I could. I don't even know if helping them is really helping them. Can I change the employment situation, the culture, the beliefs of an entire country? It goes so far beyond me. 

I received an e-mail from a friend that said that she thought I sounded discouraged, or at least heavy hearted. I think that is the word, my heart is heavy from trying to carry the burden of them all. I know it is not my job. I need wisdom, discernment that does not come from me. 

Matt 11:28 says, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." I have turned to this verse many times in the past when I was feeling weary. Now, feeling burdened, it brings new hope.

Please believe me dear friends, I am not discouraged. I don't know how that can be, except that my God is sustaining me. However, the weight of need that is around me is too heavy for me to carry. I am trying to let go, to be wise, to show compassion and understanding. I feel like I need a force field. 

(PS- thanks to all for the response to help Oretha. I believe more than enough money has been promised and I am hoping that her surgery will be scheduled soon. I'll keep you posted. See, God does provide!)

Oretha

I have been holding off on writing this post because I don't know how to ask, but today I am just going to do it.

I met a woman named Oretha about a month ago. She is related to my driver, Joseph. When I met her she had just arrived in town from her village up-country and she was looking for help.

As you can see, Oretha has a pretty significant goiter (in case you don't know, simply put, a goiter is the thyroid gland gone wild). Thankfully it is not painful, but as you can imagine it is not comfortable either. If it continues to grow it can cause problems with swallowing and eventually with breathing.

I wasn't even sure if this kind of surgery was available in Liberia. I sent Oretha to a local clinic where they referred her to a doctor that does do the surgery. She should be scheduled for surgery now. The problem is money. The cost of the surgery is $450 USD and 3 units of blood. (Yep, in Liberia you have to provide your own blood.)

Up to this point the family has not asked for any money. They have taken Oretha to all the doctors appointments, x-rays, and lab tests. They have started having family members tested for blood type to see if they can help (unfortunately my blood type is not a match or I would help as well). They are pulling their money together to cover the other hospital costs. But they, or I for that matter, can not afford the $450 for the actual surgery.

This is where my plea comes in. Can you help? I actually feel guilty asking. I feel like I already ask a lot from my friends and family who are already supporting me in my work here. I feel like I should be asking you to send money to help us with our programs or Christmas bundles for the kids. But, Oretha also needs help, and I am not sure what else to do, so I am asking.

ORR

I am just taking this opportunity to shamelessly plug the amazing organization that I work for-- Orphan Relief and Rescue. If you have not checked out our website please go to www.orphanreliefandrescue.org and check it out. There you will find the ORR blog that is updated weekly by our team in the field (that includes me), as well as, all kinds of information about our work in West Africa, upcoming projects and how you can help. And for the latest on what's happening in Liberia click here to see the November newsletter.

Sunday morning pity party

It's Sunday morning and I am not going to lie, I woke up crabby this morning. It was a long night of dogs barking, rain pounding on the roof, security guard sleeping again... Why can he sleep if I can't?


And on top of that, today John and Carrie leave. Two of my life lines here. I am SO happy for them to start this next chapter of their lives (getting married in a few weeks) but it is leaving a huge hole in life as I have known it in Liberia. (I was realizing this week that John has been a part of all my favorite memories in Liberia, Carrie a confidant and constant shoulder to cry on.)


So, I am on my porch, one of my favorite places in Liberia, with my Bible, coffee, Searching for God Knows What, and being dive-bombed by a huge drunk wasp thingy for the second morning in a row. Not feeling very Sundaymorningish. While listening to my ipod I come across an old familiar song. I remember singing a different version of it when I was growing up, but the words are the same. They come from Isaiah 52:7.


How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, “Your God reigns!” 


The passage is referring to the messengers who ran from the scene of a battle to bring news of the outcome to a waiting king and people. In this case, it was the good news that their years of living in exile were over. They were saved. This good news hits a little closer to home for me as I have been spending the last few weeks struggling through the words of the 'weeping prophet,' Jeremiah who was warning them all about the coming exile. It reminds me of the ending, no matter what the current circumstances, 'Our God reigns.'


That is beautiful news.


I am still tired. My friends are still leaving. My God still reigns. 

The House that Momo Built

A home in our neighborhood burned down this week. A house of cards balanced together, grass mat and zinc. It only took a hint of a flame to burn the entire place to the ground. A mother, Ellen, and her seven children lost everything. Literally everything. But they are thanking God for their lives. They were all inside sleeping when the fire started. Now squatting on the foundation of what used to be their house. Sleeping, cooking, living outside with nothing over their heads. Exposed to the world-- hot sun, pouring rain, stolen glances by passersby.

I met them today. Ellen, wrapped only in a lapa, scrapping together some snails to try and sell in the market. Her girls, names we all know, Mary, Hannah, Hawa, Mercy standing by deer eyed, their lives turned upside down. Momo guided me there. Earlier in the week we had sent some clothes and other miscellaneous supplies. Ellen thanked me. The girls laughed when I said their names. We left. We talked on the way back to our house about how bad we felt. The clothes, while needed, seemed too small of a bandage to cover their wound. Momo lead the conversation (or was it God), "what ever you want to do bosslady."

At home we found a few sheets of left over zinc, at least it could be a small cover for their heads. They also need walls. Grass mat. Three dollars and fifty cents for one. Twenty US dollars and their entire house (almost) could be walled in. Twenty dollars! That is pocket change for a lot of people. But this family was house-less.

Not for long.

Momo was off. On a mission. Zinc on his head. Grass mat loaded in the back of our new truck. Momo sitting on top to hold it down. King Momo on his chariot. A different kind of rescue. Not just grass mat and zinc-- a home.

The Essential Ingredient

I read some lines today that remind me of my own little 'band of brothers', er, sisters.

Heidi, Jenni, Michelle--

We hear each other's stories. We discover each other glories. We learn to walk with God together. We pray for each other's healing. We cover each other's back. This... is the essential ingredient...

-- whatever else you do, you must have a small fellowship to walk with you and fight with you and bandage your wounds.

("Waking the Dead" by John Eldredge)

Friday

Some days defy description. Ok, in Liberia a lot of days defy description. 

Friday was like that. One crazy thing after another, all day long. But it started out with an e-mail that outweighs all of the craziness of Liberia. Something that makes even less sense to me-- my dear, sweet, beautiful friend Michelle died. It was not entirely unexpected, she had fought Lou Gehrigs disease for the last three years. When I saw her in September she was locked inside the prison of her body, hardly able to move or communicate. But this is not the Michelle that I knew and loved. Michelle loved life, she was full of it. Her laugh burst joy into the universe. So to hear, and have to believe, that she is no longer on this earth is really unfathomable to me. But it is true. And to think that I have to go on living somehow seems dishonoring. So, when my day started with the news of Michelle, I wasn't really sure how to proceed. I am thousands of miles away. How do I pay my respects? How do I hug her kids and our friends to tell them I am sorry? I didn't get to say good bye. I didn't get to hug her one more time. How do I finish the sandwich I was eating when I heard the news or go about anything "normal?" It almost seems disrespectful. 

I knew that Michelle was going to die. Just like I know that she is now celebrating. I didn't know it was going to hurt this bad. I didn't know how badly I would feel the need to be connected to the people that connected us. I don't understand why I have been away the last two years, when it seems like she could have used me the most. But I do know that Michelle wouldn't have had it any other way. She was one of the most supportive people of my Liberian orphan adventure. Over and over she would tell me I was exactly where I was supposed to be. She was proud of me. Just as I am proud of her. And I guess I can now say to Michelle, even if I don't fully understand it, "You are exactly where you are supposed to be, you are free."

I love you Michelle.  

Shoes

Today started out rough.

Something was stolen. This happened a few months ago also, and was one of the most painful things that I think I have ever experienced. It hurt. I felt so vulnerable, exposed, betrayed. And today it happened again. All those hurtful, vulnerable, frustrating feelings came rushing right back. It sucks.

What does that have to do with shoes? Nothing really, except that we got to help some pretty amazing kiddos get some new shoes today. They were so excited! Can you imagine a room full of kids jumping up and down-excited about getting a new pair of shoes? You would have thought they were just told they were going to Disney Land (although they probably have no idea what Disney Land is.) The place erupted into screams of joy and laughter because they were told they were going to get a new pair of shoes (and they weren't even really new-- just new to them).

Last week our friend Momo's son had his school shoes stolen. He was at school and his shoes were stolen. Sad, I know. In Liberia you are sent home if you don't have the right shoes, or a stain on your uniform. You can't possibly learn anything if you are not dressed appropriately. We were able to get Soko a new pair shoes so he wouldn't miss any school, but really?

So this morning we were having a meeting with our staff, discussing the missing items. Everyone is shocked and embarrassed and has no idea about it. It reminded me of the Family Circus cartoon I used to read where the mom is standing there holding a broken vase or spilled milk or something and all the kids are gathered around her saying "Not me!" I mean, there are only so many of us around the house. Unless the stuff somehow ended up in that place where socks go, somebody has to be involved. But, I'll probably never know who for sure.

As we are gathered around the table, Elena and I trying not to dissolve into tears again, explaining to our staff, that I love and trust (but are stealing from me) how we are going to have to change some things around here-- beef up security, add some locks and take away privileges. Momo, of all people, dear, goofy Momo sits there sure as anything and says, "We have to pray God this is the end. He will take care." From Ma Mary I would expect this, but not from Momo. Leave it to God to use the most unlikely one to push us in the right direction. So we all bowed our heads and prayed together for the "rogue inside the house" and for the rest of us to remember to trust God, in all things.

And then I got to go witness some kid's day's being brightened by a new pair of shoes. And somewhere in the midst of all the new shoe excitement, I forgot about my own situation and rejoiced.

Back in the L-I-B

I arrived back in Monrovia Friday night to find that our generator was, as we say in Liberia, "spoiled." For those of you who do not rely on generator power, not having one means-- no electricity (obviously), no water (can't run the water pump), no charging of phones or computer batteries, no internet... you get the idea. Five days later, after two trips to the repair shop and one generator repair tech home visit we seem to be up and running again. Phew! 

Today Elena (my sole ORR side-kick for now) and I went to visit the kids at two different orphanages. We were greeted by shrieks of laughter, hugs and, "you got fat-o!" (After two years I am still reminding myself that is not an insult). It was great to be back with the kids. And a good reminder why I am here-- not to wrestle with generator repair and the other craziness that floats to the top of the priority list-- but to love on these precious ones.

It's been awhile...

Apologies to all for my blogging silence over the last few months. This past year in Liberia proved to be not only terribly busy, but also surprisingly difficult. A lot has happened in the last four months-- weddings and funerals, moving (new orphanage building in Liberia and ORR's state-side office) and grand opening ceremonies galore. 

Instead of trying to catch up on everything now I'll just start over from here. I am currently back in Washington state, preparing to head back to Liberia next Thursday (September 30th). I will be returning into my new role as Country Director and this brings many challenges, however, I am facing this new program year with a great excitement. This will be my third year living in Liberia and it truly feels as if I am returning home. I am looking forward to seeing my Liberian friends and family and my precious kiddos too, of course! 

I will keep this post short, trying to get back into the habit of blogging, and honestly hope to be better at this in this new year. 

For now, I'll leave you with what has become both my theme verse and motivation this year--

"For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." Ephesians 2:10

The Latest from Deb in Liberia.

There has been a lot going on and I am not sure where to start...

Several months ago, I was praying about my future with Orphan Relief and Rescue-- whether I would remain in Liberia, go back home or do something completely different. As I prayed I heard two things very clearly from God. First, it is not time to leave Liberia yet. Second, I felt very strongly that as I continued with ORR I needed to prepare to be doing something new, something outside healthcare. I won't lie, that was very difficult for me, I think nursing is embedded in my DNA. As I continued to seek God I felt more and more peace about it, until I didn't even think about it for a couple months. In March, Tim (ORR's president) visited us here. During that time he asked me to consider taking on the shared role of Country Director for ORR in Liberia. Our current Country Director has decided not to return to the field, so another staff member and I would be sharing the responsibilities of running ORR in Liberia. Tim thought he was going to surprise me with the request, but instead I shocked him when I said that God had already been preparing me for this. Starting this month Matthew Cramer and I will be taking on this new role, leading our team here. I suppose this is a promotion of sorts, for now I will be sharing my time between healthcare and director.

There are other personnel changes as well. Some key long term staff are leaving and new people are joining the team. We also have several important projects going on including the first orphanage we have build from the ground up being completed and moving the kids in next month. We are meeting with over 150 kids each week in small groups, teaching and playing and offering them one on one time. Over all the health of the kids is better than before, but malaria and other illnesses still strike often. One boy, Michael, could use specific prayers as he is fighting severe liver disease. He is hospitalized now and doesn't seem to be responding to the meds. Everything that can be done for him here, is being done.

I would covet your prayers in this crazy time. Please pray for wisdom in this new role and for unity among the team throughout all the upcoming changes. Pray for Michael and the other kids health as rainy season sets in. We long to show them Jesus in everything we do-- to train them up in the way they should go. This is extremely difficult when they are not getting that influence from anyone else.

Currently I plan to be arriving home in mid-July and then return to Liberia at the end of September. Besides catching up with friends and family as able, I will be spending some of that time working in ORR's US office that is moving to Burien, WA this summer, so I will be close to home!

Momo's wedding and other weekend craziness!

This weekend we had the opportunity to go to our security guard and friend, Momo’s, wedding. Momo and Marthaline decided to have a traditional Liberian country wedding. The requirements for which include the entire wedding party going to the bride’s village for the ceremony. As it turns out, the village Marthaline grew up in was an unknown distance off of the main road from a city four hours outside of Monrovia. As Momo’s employers and friends, it became our responsibility to transport them all there. We did not really know what we were getting ourselves into and it had all the makings to become the perfect Gong show.

The wedding caravan left before seven am on Saturday. Our JAC truck was loaded down with about 15 wedding guests sitting on recycled church pews in the back. I was driving the pick-up full of VIP Liberian women, including the bride. Our Jeep had the rest of the ORR gang, plus Momo’s pa. Four hours outside Monrovia we reached Gbarnga (pronounced Bonga) and found the dirt road that led to Marthaline’s village.

As the driver of the vehicle with the bride inside, I had to lead the caravan into the village. Marthaline had not been to her village for a long time and the best description for how long it would take along the dirt road was “It is far, small,” (which in Liberian translates to really, really far) and “We will pass five other villages to get there.” The road, more like a trail, took us past several small villages and over eight iffy log bridges. Thankfully, Marthaline was a little off on her estimation and we reached the village after only 45 minutes of bumping along the dusty road.

The family had erected a flower and palm branch awning at the house (mud hut) and everyone was ready to start the festivities as soon and the bride and groom had arrived. I can’t really explain everything that happened over the next five hours, but after we all changed into our wedding clothes, the negotiations began. We all sat in school chairs as both families negotiated, exchanged money, a glass bowl, some cola nuts and wood carvings. Somewhere along the way they started serving popcorn and a crazy drunk lady started yelling from the back of the crowd. Then all of a sudden the negotiations ended, people were hugging and shaking hands and they were serving food and soft drinks. The wedding was over—Momo was married.

We elected to not stay in the village and found a nearby guesthouse to sleep at. The next morning we returned down the dusty road and over the bridges to pick up the wedding party and head back to town. The party continued in the back of the JAC but things were much more sedate in my vehicle. When I asked Marthaline if she was going to ride back in the back of the JAC with her husband she said, “No way Debbie, I am with you!”

The ride back to town was slow and bumpy. We were all exhausted and ready to be home when we came across the scene of a motorbike accident. It had literally just happened, the wheel of the bike was still turning when we drove by. I saw two women walking along the side of the road and started thinking everything was ok, until I noticed the man laying on the shoulder. I pulled over the truck and ran across the road, fully expecting him to be dead. He had some pretty significant road rash on one arm and a leg. Thankfully, he was breathing and had a strong pulse, but was not responsive.

Somehow Liberians starting appearing from everywhere, everyone thinking they knew the right thing to do. I really didn’t want to move him, but Mariel had been in this circumstance before and quickly reminded me that no one else was coming. God must have put authority in my voice because somehow everyone at the scene who was trying to “help” listened to my commands. We rolled up a shirt to stabilize his neck and found a tarp to use as a stretcher. Meanwhile other ORRers were throwing grass into the street to alert passing cars and directing traffic. We loaded him and his sisters (who also had some pretty bad road rash and were pretty hysterical but otherwise unharmed) into the back of the JAC truck and headed out towards the hospital. Mariel and I took turns attempting to keep his neck immobilized as we lumbered down the road, through Red Light, and over some huge potholes.

Somewhere along the way I looked around the back of the truck and had to laugh. Besides the accident victims, Mariel and I, there were several wedding participants, huge bunches of bananas, a sound system and a live chicken. Not your typical ambulance, that is for sure. On the drive towards the hospital the man started moving and responding to pain, but never regained consciousness or was able to talk to us or follow commands. We arrived at the only hospital that takes trauma victims in the country about 45 minutes later. It took several attempts to explain the need for a stretcher and a neck brace, but we eventually did get them and wheeled the patient inside. In the ER I reported to the doctor what I knew. He never got out of his chair, but assured me he would check out the patient as soon as he was registered. I did see a nurse in the room as we were leaving.

I rode on a pew in the back of the JAC, with Momo’s brothers and the chicken, for the rest of the way home. Back at Momo’s house (next door to mine) the wedding party continued. We decided not to stay and went out to one of our favorite restaurants to enjoy some AC and burgers instead.

It was a crazy, but not quite as Gong-showish as I though it would be, weekend and I am thoroughly exhausted. Eh Liberia!

The Container is here!!!!!

We have no mail service in Liberia. The only way we get things from home is when a willing party coming this way carries it over for us in their suitcase OR via a shipping container. The container is reliable but very slow. Yesterday we were able to pick up boxes and rubbermaids packed by us or friends last September (7 months ago). We received 19 boxes at the ORR house! The vast majority of it was supplies for the kiddos-- clothes, school supplies, books, medication etc... But there were some goodies for us too, including an entire rubbermaid tub filled with tortilla chips, trail mix, coffee and cereal from my Aunt Marcia. As you can see in the picture below we were very excited! And even though I don't have a picture to prove it, dear Elena was so excited to see the cereal that she actually cried!

I just want to give a big THANK YOU to everyone who put energy into collecting, packing, sorting and transporting everything our way. We really, really, really appreciate it!

Liberia: Through my mother's eyes.

My mom has spent the last three weeks with me, here in Liberia, and it has been unbelievable. Earlier today we were debriefing a bit, discussing her time here and she shared some observations with me-

The Kids- The kids are amazing! They are always full of hugs and smiles and so accepting of me. They can sit and read books for hours and be completely content. And they are truly happy.

The ORR team- Your team works like a fine tuned machine. There are so many facets to what you do—healthcare, delivering food, even making a difference in the government to help the country’s children and orphans. You fight to find a balance between the endless needs of the children, nation and area as well as be able to encourage and support each other and have fun together too. (We sure don’t feel that way the majority of the time. It is a good reminder to see things through new eyes, thanks mom.)

Liberia as a whole- Such a land of contrasts. On one side of a fence is a family struggling to survive-- slaving over a hot coal pot to cook, hoping for one good meal a day, carrying heavy loads of water to do basic chores, no electricity, no job. While literally, on the other side is a five star hotel with air conditioning and a swimming pool. You can sit on the beach in front of a resort, beautiful and pristine, and across the invisible boundary line the beach is littered with garbage and human waste.

The hospitals are so different as well. The focus here seems to be on death. All the care revolves around if the person will die or not as opposed to the focus on wellness in the states. As we toured a hospital the nurse showing us around told us how four people had died in the last 24 hours plus a stillborn baby. That was about ten percent of the patient population that day. That is how it is every day. And it is not sacred, the tour included the delivery room where the mother who lost the baby was still lying on the table and was within earshot when the nurse told us “her baby died this morning.” Later, the nurse explained that the woman lived in the bush and had been in labor for five days. She had to walk three hours, in labor, to the closest road to find a car to carry her to the hospital. By the time she finally arrived and got the help she needed, it was too late.

There is a simplicity here too. Without fancy gadgets to get work done everyone is left to using basic tools. You don’t often see lawn mowers, chain saws, food processors or electric pencil sharpeners. Instead it takes hours of hard manual labor to cut the grass or chop a tree with an axe. Fixing dinner is an all day affair using a large mortar and pestle to beat palm nuts into soup. We even got blisters on our hands from manually sharpening pencils for the kids at the orphanages.

When asked if she would still come if she knew how much she would cry, my mom replied, wiping a tear away, “Of course.” She said that through pictures she had seen and stories I had told she felt prepared to come. Then she went on to say, “I don’t think you can ever be prepared. Could I do this full time? …I know I could if God wanted me too.”

Update on the girls--

Korpu continues to thrive! Six weeks under the loving care of her foster mom Martha, and she is doing great. Her personality is coming out, this once withdrawn girl is laughing and dancing and even playing jokes on her ma! At her follow-up doctor’s appointment last week she weighed 19.8 lbs. That is over a four pound weight gain in six weeks-- a 25% increase!

Mardea, the tiny malnourished girl with the bed sores, is improving slowing. She has been in the hospital for a month now, enrolled in an aggressive feeding program. Now that she is getting proper nutrition her wounds are healing and she appears more alert. She is gaining weight as well, and is up about two pounds already! –

-- This is not the report that I sat down to write today. I received a phone call while I was writing this, that Mardea died this morning. She died! I am shocked. I was really looking forward to this being a happy update. Even though she had been improving on the nutrition side of things, she developed a respiratory infection in the hospital and her weakened body just could not fight it off. I spent most of the day today with Mardea’s foster mom, Doris, waiting at the hospital for her body to be released and then at home, explaining to her friends what had happened. Everyone kept saying “All the suffering, for nothing.” Was it for nothing? I have to believe that we did the best we could for her. But I still feel that she deserved better, she deserved more than this.

I can find some comfort in it though; I wholeheartedly believe that she is not suffering any more. She is free. While I was sitting with her today, Doris told me that another woman in the ward, caring for her own ill child, had a dream about Mardea last night. In the dream Mardea was grown and walking and had plenty of hair and some friends came for her and took her away. Wow. --

Mardea and I last Friday.

Why I do what I do--

Joshua

Sarah

Joe

Blessed

Jeremiah

Timothy

One of the lucky ones.

Today was one of those days that didn't go as planned, but I know I was right where I was supposed to be.

I stopped in to check on Korpu at her foster home. She is looking great! I've never seen her so animated. She greeted us with a big smile, is communicating with the Liberian head-bob and even "busting" (equivalent to an American high-five). As I walked up to the house all the neighborhood children were chanting "Korpu's Ma, Korpu's Ma," but when it came down to it she quickly chose to be in the arms of her new Ma. I take that as a good sign that she is comfortable and at home. It was very encouraging to see her adjusting so well.

As we were getting ready to leave, another foster mom in the community asked me to look at one of her girls. This community has several homes that have taken in foster children with special needs. I had been to her home before and met most of the children, but I was not prepared for what I was about to find. The woman carried out a tiny, cross-eyed girl. She said the girl was two years old, but she probably weighed less than 10 pounds. As she undressed her, every bone in her body was evident, poking through her thin, fragile skin-- every individual rib could be traced. Then she proceeded to show me sore after sore on her body. She thought they were abscesses, even a local clinic had been treating them that way, but I quickly recognized them as bedsores. The one on the back of her head went down to the bone.

I stood in this room, surrounded by staring women and children from the community, holding this almost alien looking, yet precious girl and knew something needed to be done. Now. A friend who is a doctor working at a local hospital had joined me for the afternoon. I looked at her and asked what she thought we should do. Without missing a step she confirmed that we needed to get her to a hospital where she could get nutrition, antibiotics and wound care.

Putting aside our agenda for the afternoon we loaded up the girl and her foster Ma and made our way to a nearby Doctor's Without Borders hospital. They ushered us straight back and within minutes the PA on duty had started the admission process. All I could do as we sat in the ER was try and comfort this girl with a gentle caress of her temple. And pray. Too much touch seemed to overstimulate her, she didn't even have the strength to cry.

Tonight she is laying on a bed in a room with probably 8 other children fighting similar circumstances. I want to blame someone. There should be no excuse for a tiny, helpless girl to be suffering so much. Someone should have done something sooner. I had even been there before, why didn't I notice? I know that the foster mom loves her and has been caring for her to the best of her ability and knowledge. But still she was in this devastating condition.

So I am left with the reminder that this is still Liberia. Tragic, preventable things happen here everyday. And this girl is actually one of the lucky ones.

Mixed Feelings

Yesterday was a day of mixed feelings. On the one hand I had the opportunity to take part in moving Korpu to her new foster home. She was removed from a neglectful home and placed in a home where she will get quality care. This is the chance for her to truly thrive. A new chance at life. An opportunity to get the attention and love that she deserves. On the other hand I tore her away from the only home and family she has ever known and placed her among strangers. The children at her orphanage are their own special kind of family, a kind of support group for each other. It is special to watch them interact in their own special ways. They love Korpu, she loves them. I don't know if any of them understand that Korpu won't be coming back.

God has set the measure of success high-- do what is BEST. What is best for the children I am serving here? They need an advocate who will stand in the gap for them when they are not able. And, as they say in Liberia, it is not easy. Doing what is best is not doing what is easy or feels good. It is extremely difficult. It is challenging. It is painful.

There are a thousand Korpu's out there. A thousand opportunities to contend for the best. God help me, the work continues. I don't want to grow weary in doing good. Help me to keep fighting for what is best, no matter the consequences. And bless Korpu in her new home. Surround her tiny body with love and peace and understanding. Surround her friends, other children in her old circumstances, they need to be loved and to find hope as well.

Swimming with Mary and Piko.

Today was the Second Annual “Take Mary and Piko Swimming to Celebrate Armed Forces Day” day. Last year we took them to the beach and they bathed in the sea for the first time in many years (something like 30 years for Piko). Last time we watched them go reluctant at first, and then flipping and flopping like fish in the waves. Every holiday since last Armed Forces Day Mary has asked me if we can go swimming again. Today, both sporting new swimsuits, the two of them giggled and tiptoed into the waves without hesitation. They even out swam me-- I was lounging on the beach long before they dragged themselves out of the water.

I love that I have been here long enough to reminisce about what we did a year ago. Traditions are being established and I am looking forward for more to come in the future.

Post-op.

Jeremiah showing off his new belly button.

Jeremiah, Joshua and Fumbeh the day after their hernia repair surgeries. They are all doing great! Even ran across the room and jumped into my arms when I came to pick them up yesterday. They were totally spoiled by the CSI team (chocolate pudding and TV watching!) and didn't want to leave the hospital. The trip home included a stop off to visit Uncle Matt at the construction site in Cottontree, the supermarket (they were overwhelmed at all of the cracker options) and some loving from Ma Mary in the ORR kitchen. I actually felt bad taking them home, as the day went on I could see the adrenaline wearing off and the realization that they were going back to their old lives setting in.

Thanks again to Lora, Anna, Jennifer, Emmi, Dr Steve and the rest of the Children's Surgery Intl team. They have been doing over 20 surgeries a day all week and changing all kinds of Liberian lives.

Firestone Surgeries.

Yesterday I drove seven kids from three different orphanages, all with varying types of hernias, up to Firestone Hospital. There is a group of American surgeons there this week with Children's Surgery Intl (CSI). They are primarily doing facial and reconstructive surgeries, however they brought one general surgeon to help with hernia repairs. I met some of the nurses working with CSI last Thursday and introduced them to a couple of the orphanages we work with here. Saturday night I received a phone call from one of the nurses telling me that they only had 13 hernia repair spots left and there were over 100 people spending the night in hopes to fill those spots. They were overwhelmed at the response and need for these surgeries. All my kids had already been screened by the primary team, but the surgeon had not seen them yet, and nothing was set. I was told to return on Sunday without much hope of any of my kids getting the surgeries that they need.

(Kebbeh, Fumbeh, Jeremiah, Mustaphe, Joshua and Miracle-- Ice cream was one of the new experiences for these kids on the journey to the hospital, other things they enjoyed for the first time included an elevator and flushing toilets!)

This is Liberia, and nothing went as planned as I attempted to pick up the kids and make the hour drive to Firestone. When we finally got on the road Elena and I were frustrated and wondered if it was even worth going. I asked one of the kids to pray and as Jeremiah's prayer floated up from the backseat, I could feel the mood in the car change. I started getting excited and had a feeling we were going to be witnessing a miracle (because that is what it was going to be if any of my kids were actually going to have surgery this week). We were over an hour late arriving and as I drove up to the hospital, I passed through a crowd of mothers and children waiting to be seen. We were greeted at the door by the screening team and were told there are only nine spots left. Then I realized, as we were escorted straight back to see the surgeon, they were waiting for us!

Dr Steve examined the children one by one and in the end three of the seven were selected to have surgery this week. (We actually ended up taking three of the last five surgery spots!) The other four received the promise of being at the top of the list for surgery when the CSI team returns in the fall. Amazing!

I just returned from seeing Jeremiah, Joshua and Fumbeh off on the bus to Firestone. They were excited for the adventure of it and a bit scared (a few tears even snuck out from Jeremiah, my constant smiler). Their surgeries are scheduled for tomorrow and I will pick them up at the hospital on Wednesday. These are relatively routine surgeries and a quick recovery is expected, but please join me in praying for these boys this week-- they are in strange surroundings, seperated from the families that they know and facing the unknown discomfort of surgery. But, I would be remiss if I did not take a moment to aknowledge God's hand in making a way for them to have these surgeries this week. (And a big Thank You to the CSI team too.)

Praying Psalm 10 for Haiti.

¹ Why, O LORD, do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?

² In his arrogance the wicked man hunts down the weak, who are caught in the schemes he devises.

³ He boasts of the cravings of his heart; he blesses the greedy and reviles the LORD.

⁴ In his pride the wicked does not seek him; in all his thoughts there is no room for God.

⁵ His ways are always prosperous; he is haughty and your laws are far from him; he sneers at all his enemies.

⁶ He says to himself, "Nothing will shake me; I'll always be happy and never have trouble."

⁷ His mouth is full of curses and lies and threats; trouble and evil are under his tongue.

⁸ He lies in wait near the villages; from ambush he murders the innocent, watching in secret for his victims.

⁹ He lies in wait like a lion in cover; he lies in wait to catch the helpless; he catches the helpless and drags them off in his net.

¹⁰ His victims are crushed, they collapse; they fall under his strength.

¹¹ He says to himself, "God has forgotten; he covers his face and never sees."

¹² Arise, LORD! Lift up your hand, O God. Do not forget the helpless.

¹³ Why does the wicked man revile God? Why does he say to himself, "He won't call me to account"?

¹⁴ But you, O God, do see trouble and grief; you consider it to take it in hand. The victim commits himself to you; you are the helper of the fatherless.

¹⁵ Break the arm of the wicked and evil man; call him to account for his wickedness that would not be found out.

¹⁶ The LORD is King for ever and ever; the nations will perish from his land.

^{17 - 18} You hear, O LORD, the desire of the afflicted; you encourage them, and you listen to their cry, defending the fatherless and the oppressed, in order that man, who is of the earth, may terrify no more.

I woke up this morning feeling an intense need to spend some focused time with God, but I was not sure regarding what. As I took my coffee and Bible to the porch I was bombarded by every possible distraction (this is Liberia). I was quickly frustrated, annoyed and loosing focus. Praying for clarity I turned to Psalm 10 and started reading. Haiti came to mind instantly--

I am pretty isolated here, no TV news to keep me updated by the minute. I heard about the earthquake through friends facebook statuses. I haven't seen much, but am haunted by what I have seen and heard. The pictures of the people there really remind me of Liberia. Haiti and Liberia are actually very similar and it is hitting close to home. I am imagining if something like that happened here, to the people and country I have come to love so much. So much devastation, it seems too much for so many who were already suffering to take. Being here, I don't know what to do or really how to pray.

This morning the need was so intense I even found myself asking-- "God, am I supposed to go to Haiti or pray for Haiti?" And he said pray. So I used Psalm 10 as an outline because I honestly didn't know where else to start.

If you are feeling as helpless and overwhelmed as I am, maybe you can start there too. It is the least and best we can do.

"Prayers are powerful and effective not because they alter God's providential plan but because they are a part of it."

Lapagirls

When we delivered Christmas bundles last month, every gift was wrapped in a square piece of lapa (Liberian material). This week when I stopped by to visit the children at Frances Gaskins I was greeted by several of the girls wearing new skirts crafted out of the lapa from their Christmas bundles. Kumba, one of the older girls at the home, had come up with the idea and sewed them on a foot pedal sewing machine that they have.

(Before- Christmas bundles)

(After- Lucky, Kebbeh, Marthalyn and Hannah showing off their new style.)

I loved the ingenuity of it. We have delivered the same bundles to hundreds of other kids over the last few years and never seen them put the lapa to use like this before. It is great to see new ideas and the ability to put them into action. In Liberian terms we would say- "They are coming up small."