"Sometimes I can feel scared."

Yesterday I visited my friends at Frances Gaskin orphanage. After I made my rounds—watching the cook serve up their daily meal, checking in with the orphanage Director, changing a dressing on a girl fresh from surgery, administering some other miscellaneous first aid and giving out plenty of hugs—I sat on the porch, listening to the August rain and had a chat with my friend Jeremiah.

Jeremiah is 10 years old. He is curious about everything. He is constantly asking questions and observing the world around him. And he remembers everything I ever told him. I love to sit and talk with him whenever I get the chance. Yesterday our conversation drifted towards the upcoming elections in Liberia. Even though Jeremiah is young, he is very aware. He was telling me about how everyone is scared of bad people during this time. He remembers when armed robbers broke into the orphanage a few years ago and how scared he was. He told me, “I thought they were going to harm us.” Thankfully no one was hurt that day.

Living in Liberia, a country that is still recovering from 14 years of civil war, safety and security are always close to mind. Not too long ago my neighbor was shot and killed. I am thankful for the security fence I have around my yard to keep my house safe.

I could talk all day about why I think Frances Gaskin needs a security fence, but instead, let me tell you what Jeremiah says about it—“I don’t like to be in the yard without a fence because anytime somebody can just come in the yard.” He went on to say that, “Sometimes I can feel scared.”

Here, Jeremiah is standing near the existing 'fence,' a hedge of hibiscus bushes. You can see the road directly behind him. He is open, exposed, without protection.

I hate the fact that children are feeling scared to live in their own home. A home should be a safe haven. We still need $3000 to finish the security fence that will help keep Jeremiah, his brothers and sisters safe. Please help today.

Marathon!

Today was an historic day in Liberia. The first ever marathon in this country. In America there is probably a marathon somewhere every week, but here, it is actually a really big deal. Many Liberian's have never even heard of a marathon and the concept of a 26 mile road race is incomprehensible.  Even though this was the first race of it's kind in Liberia, it was officially accredited to count for serious marathon runners-- meaning we may (probably will) see people who ran today in the next Olympics.  

I am not a runner. Never have been and have no real desire to torture myself by running for 26 miles. I think people who do it must have a certain level of insanity (don't we all) but I greatly admire them. 

I was, however, a part of this momentous day in Liberia by volunteering on the medical team. We set up a make-shift hospital at the end of the race-- SKD Stadium. The bonus of being there was watching the winning runner cross the finish line. The down-side (but reason we were all there) was caring for the dozens of passed-out, exhausted runners. At one point every cot was full and we were starting IV's on people laying on the floor. We were worried, there were several cash prizes available, including $3000 USD for first place. Unfortunately, that is more than many Liberians would see in a year. No one knew how many would turn out to run, untrained but hoping for the cash prize. Thankfully, even though there was chaos, there were no major injuries. It was pretty amazing to watch people who collapsed, after after pushing themselves through 26 miles in the pouring Liberian rain, perk up after a half hour of fluids and snacks and walk out of the medical station smiling and showing off their medal.

A friend of mine wrote a great article about today. Follow this link to read it.

about a mile in.

the finish line

the first runner into the stadium. a sweet ethiopian man who was WAY ahead of everyone else.

just passed the finish line.

there was a 10K race for amputees as well. 

Jogma

Please pray for my friend Jogma. Last week she had a semi-emergent c-section. I feel like any surgery in Liberia is a scary one, but especially this one. After 60+ hours of labor and still no baby-- she was exhausted, baby's heart rate showed signs of stress, the doctors decided that was the only way to go.

Thankfully, the baby was born without any problems. Small Joshua (as we call him) is perfect in every way.

Jogma, however, is having a really hard time. She has been having a lot of pain and fevers since Joshua was born. Two days ago I took her back to the hospital to have her stitches removed and they found an infection in the wound. Today I brought her back for a dressing change and not only is the infection there, she is severely anemic. She has been re-admitted to the hospital (I will say again here how scary hospitals are in Liberia!) for IV antibiotics and an emergent transfusion.

Jogma is young, 16 years old, and scared. She is one of the smartest, sweetest and most talented girls I know. Please join me in praying for her health and safety today.

Updates--

Baby Wonderful

When I first met Wonderful, in March of 2008, he was a pathetic nine month old trying to recover from pneumonia.

At almost four years old, we can't call him 'baby' anymore. Whenever he sees my truck driving up he comes running with a huge smile and leaps into my arms (sometimes even smelling of cologne, never to young to impress I guess).

 Korpu

Longtime readers of my blog will remember Korpu. Here she February of 2010-- four years old and 15 pounds.

She has never been a fan of the camera, but here she is today. She actually looks her age!

 Emmie

I first told Emmie's story about a month ago-- head covered with sores from a chemical burn at the hands of her step-mother. Today she is laughing and playing with the other children in the home-- head clean and clear, new hair growing in.

Rough edges

I’m tired.

Today, I am tired. I am discouraged. I am saddened.

I want to give up. God says, ‘Press on.’

I have realized over the last few weeks how deeply exhausted I am. How tired I am of fighting so hard for everything. Can’t anything be easy? Can’t I just have a refrigerator that works all the time and I don’t have to think about changing the tank? Is it so much to ask for a day of running errands without the hassle? Can’t anything ever go as planned? And don’t even get me started on hot water! 

My strength is over. It’s finished.

I was talking to a friend the other day and he said he felt so stripped of everything he didn’t even think God could use him anymore. My response to him— that’s exactly when God can use you. I guess this is one of those times I need to take my own advice. But that, of course, is not always easy.

Today was filled with rough edges-- A confrontational meeting, traffic, disappointing news about choices that some kids are making, a child afraid to smile, a small boy still limping three years later, a brand new fence… busted.

And of course today's rough edges just build on the ones from yesterday. 

I am not meaning to sound sorry for myself, just being honest. Today was a rough day. I am tired. If it was up to me I would be curled up in the fetal position—done. I am even discouraged that I am discouraged.

Some of this may be true. Some may be hormonal. Some may be situational.

The day may have had rough edges, but there is so much more. There is the beauty of a child’s laugh, a hug, an interlaced hand-hold, coffee in the morning, sunshine in the afternoon, someone who cares enough about me to fix my favorite dinner. 

A God who says, ‘Press on,’ when I don’t want to anymore, and then gives me the strength to do it.

“But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on… I can do all this through him who gives me strength.” Phil 3:13-14, 4:13

sweet Emmie

Today I met a precious girl. I hugged her. I tried to find a smile. I cut off all her hair.

Emmie is about six years old. She was dropped off at an orphanage this week after her step-mother put a chemical on her head which caused serious burns over most of her scalp. The only reason to do so was to cause her harm. There were other reports of abuse as well, so another family member brought her to the orphanage and begged for help. She is in a safe place now.

When I found her today, her big sad eyes showed her confusion and fear. As I tried to examine her scalp she burst into tears, afraid of further pain and the unknown. As I cut off her hair, trying to assess the damage, she stiffened and jumped at each touch. I applied soothing ointment and covered the wounds with clean dressings but the wounds on her heart run deeper.

Please join us in prayer for sweet Emmie today.

Thank you. 

www.orphanreliefandrescue.org

Safe and Secure

In the past week the owner of the night club next door was murdered-- shot by armed robbers as he left for the night,  his family staged a loud and disruptive protest (riot) against the police right outside my house and some of my own security guards (the ones who I increased for security due to the problems outside the fence) were caught stealing from inside my fence. Needless to say, it has been a rough week.

I heard the shot, witnessed the traffic stopping protest, discovered the missing fuel. There has been a great range of emotions-- fear, anger, numbness, disbelief. And even just plain feeling like an idiot. There were many moments that I didn't exactly feel safe and secure.

Somehow I am still standing. Somehow through it all I have felt protected. Scared, yes. Unsure, yes. Betrayed, yes. But, most of all, protected and saved and thankful.

I am thankful tonight for those who have worked hard for my safety and security. I am proud and thankful for my team, who has endured the trials of the last week and has come through strong, even smiling. I am thankful  for God's protection and the endurance to carry on.