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)