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 Her personality is coming out, this once withdrawn girl is laughing and dancing and even playing jokes on her ma!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.)