The part I've been ignoring.

If you are a reader of this blog who knows me pretty well, you may be aware of the fact that I have a slight issue with denial. If I don’t like something I tend not to acknowledge it’s existence; and even the fact that I used the adjective “slight” to describe my issue with denial is telling of my syndrome. And I know it, but I deny that further still….and thus the cycle continues.

So I’m facing the part of the trip I have so far been denying…it’s conclusion.

First of all, I feel the need to point out the fact that this trip didn’t start on April 16 for me, it started way back in January when I committed to going. From that point on, a new part of my life began that included some fundraising, packing, lots and lots of counting, and a fellowship of eleven people joined together for a unique and meaningful purpose. A purpose that we were able to accomplish with an overwhelming margin of success, and joy. All in all this trip has been more than a simple experience; it has been a chapter in my life.

But this too must end. And on the eve of my departure from South Africa, I am all packed and ready for our long trek back home… and kind of left wondering, what’s next?

I’ve spent so much time loving it here, and all the phases I went through to get here. I loved it too much, and therefore I have been having a very hard day getting ready to leave it all behind. Yes I know all the practical reasons I need to go home: job, continuing education…blah blah blah. When you’ve spent two weeks without those things, you are given the time and grace to figure out there is more to life. And that a different way of living life really does exist. Something maybe I could really fit into, and find happiness within.

But I’ve given it some thought and found some strength in my struggle. First of all in knowing that all of my “blah blah blahs” really are important. I may find them daunting at times but my life at home is what allows me to come here and be part of a solution. Going back to my place in the world will allow me to replenish and build upon the tools God has given me to make a difference, “here and there.”

More importantly, it’s time for a new chapter. For the last few months I have clung to this trip as my one true North. (even though I went way South.) The thing I was working toward, even when I wasn’t directly working on it. And I did it. And it was amazing, in so many ways. But God has made me ready to bring on something new. And I have no idea what that may be.

If you also know me well, you may know that I have a little trouble coming to grips with the unknown, but I consider a bible passage that I have really come to really appreciate from Job 42:1-3.

“ I know that you can do all things, no plan of yours can be thwarted. You asked, ‘Who is this that obscures my counsel without knowledge?’ Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.”

And so officially ending this chapter means starting a new one- that I know will be filled with things too wonderful for me to know. And for that… I’m excited!

When.

(I wrote this on Saturday, but the internet is touch and go so this is the first I've been able to post it)

I hereby officially declare that I am saying “when”.

I am sore to the touch, and ambling around like an old man after the clinic we had today. 250 total children, who arrived by the never-ending busload with dirty little ear canals. Every time I looked outside searching for a light at the end of the tunnel it seemed as though even MORE inquisitive little faces would peer around the doorway anxiously wanting to get in Grace Evangelical Church.

Being the person who took every single little patient’s vitals with an ear thermometer and the assistant at the ear wash station I thought a lot today about dirty little ears. Although I learned a contradiction to my cultural hygienic upbringing - dirty ears are healthy ears. Acidic wax keeps us from getting bugs in our ears as well as bacteria that cause ear infections. Thus unless the wax is causing pain or auditory damage…it stays.

At patient number 215 I had caught up with the docs on vitals and got to sit in with a very exhausted Dr. Andy as he checked off the last few kids. With the exception of a case of Impetigo, which was routinely treated with antibiotics, we had all basically healthy kids. I would kind of laugh at the awkward silence in the sheet-walled exam rooms as the kids realized that they waited in line for 6 hrs with their cardstock “chart” only to have this guy write on it that I’m perfectly fine. And yeah, maybe today would have been a much easier and shorter day had we only seen the ones who could actually be classified as sick. But there’s beauty in healthy kids that blows finding a true ailment completely out of the water. Not to mention the benefit of giving all of these kids multivitamins, a community based prevention of worms, a sticker, a sandwich, and a day to sit and play with their friends in a house of God to find out that Jesus and these crazy Americans in the funny clothes called scrubs love them.

There hasn’t been a clinic day with 250 people in a few years; we try to cap it at 150. And this time it happened there was about half the amount of doctors available to supply the demand. So I guess it’s safe to say that God heard my prayer about exhausting our team within the very last molecule of ATP. But this is what we prayed so diligently for the opportunity to do, so the work and exhaustion is met with satisfaction and welcoming. I think we were meant to see everyone who came through those doors today, because had we not faced so much adversity with setting up these clinics I don’t think a 250 clinic with half the required staff would have gone quite so smoothly.

I will be lucky if I make it through my spaghetti dinner without falling asleep in it.

firsts.

Okay, so I need to do this pretty quickly because our incredibly competitive game of Phase 10 went just a little too long and it’s getting pretty late. (pretty late being 10:20…) But also you should know that the reason 10:20 is super late is because I started wanting to go to bed around 5:45.

In the last few days… I have had my first dip in the Indian Ocean, I played my first cord on the guitar (E minor- which I’ve heard is rarely ever actually used, but counts nonetheless) and also had my first experience playing soccer on the beach (which taught me the importance of looking out for rocks).

And most importantly, today was our first clinic.

Today we were finally able to do what we came here to do. It was long awaited and frustrating to get to this point, but it was a great day. I walked out of the house at 8:20 and there were already at least 75 people lined up outside the clinic doors. I took what felt like a million blood pressures, a few baby temps, a lunch break, and then started all over again.

I think my favorite part of the day was the last twenty minutes, after I was done taking pre-doctor vitals and I got to sit in with one of the docs as he diagnosed a couple patients. This also led to another first: hearing my first heart murmur. Reviewing the state of health this particular person was in, this was a sad, less exhilarating first.

The electricity went out, as it tends to do here, so after our long day we didn’t even get showers… and had to make dinner in the dark. But we’re so used to it by now it didn’t faze anyone. I’m not looking forward to the reverse culture shock that I’m sure is waiting for me at home… paved roads, the ability to pet dogs, seatbelts, and cell phones? I’ve only been here a week and I’m quite avidly adjusted to living without all of the above. Here, the only day of the week that you need to know is Sunday, and the timed out events are based on “before dark” or “after dark”, and I’ve grown quite fond of every aspect of it.

It’s a good time to get going, everyone is sleeping and ready to do it all again tomorrow, Peds style! Yup, tomorrow we see the Zulu babies…who could light up even the darkest of days with one smile or the beautiful tunes they sing to praise God ☺.

A constant state of dirty feet.

So, there are a few things that are different in Africa. Title- inspiring being the fact that my feet are always dirty. (I’m sure my mother is having a small heart attack knowing that I would even put that up on the internet)…but it’s true. Normally at home this would incessantly bother me to my very core, but here my attitude can be summed up with one expression- “eh”. Maintaining cleanly feet in South Africa would kind of be an unending battle, and much water wasted…so I accept it, embrace it. Africa me has very dirty feet.

There are a few things that I wanted to write about. I swear my brain has gained a few pounds with all of the thinking I’ve been doing… or lost a few due to intense work out, however you’d like to think of it. Thus I’m introducing a series that may or may not have three elements. The trouble is not that I’ve never had this much time to think…I’m an avid thinker no matter my geographic location, but never before had so much that I felt I wanted, needed to share.

Subgroup A: Perspectives.

I would like to start out with some stats… We brought with us a thousand pounds of meds in our luggage that we checked. Everything has come to into the country in it’s original packaging…but once we get here, our Kirkland brands bottles of 750 need to broken down into something a little bit more practical for handing out at clinic.

To solve our problem we consulted a great historical duo, Sharpies and the Ziploc bag.

125,000 tablets of ibuprofen rationed into Ziploc bags of 100 tablets equates to 1,240 bags. Divided by 10 people is roughly 124 bags per person to count. And then if you have a more specialized job like me, the bag-writer, you are strictly writing the phrase

“ Ibuprofen 500 mg #100.”

1,240 times. And that’s just the Ibuprofen.

The following is the numerical amounts for our top 4 med groups. But may I reiterate that this is just the TOP four.

80,000 paracetamol /100 800 bags
60,000 diphenhydramine/ 60 1,000 bags
24,000 children’s multivitamin/ 60 400 bags.

This is what we have been up to the last two days folks. Two days. Lots of counting, and creating rules that involve never ever counting outloud and games like the “the Perfect Hundred”. These last two days have given a whole new meaning to what it is to serve God. A whole new perspective.

Mission trips are hard, and I don’t think people go into them really expecting them to be a walk in the park… but you don’t know what God is going to make part of your mission until you’re in it. And this has been a marathon of painstaking, detailed, and mind-numbing service. Service to God. Service to our supporters…those who sent us here, and those who need us here.

I haven’t gotten to the clinic part yet. So this part of the trip is hard for me… but I’m also one of few newbies on this trip- and people have come back year after year after year. The trials of “sorting” were a surprise to only me, Carmen, Dan and Anna. Everyone else knew… and expected it- and come every year knowing exactly what they’re getting themselves into. For Sarah and Sharon…seven years in a row.

Counting pills doesn’t make you feel alive. It almost makes you want to die. But there’s so much more to this.

really live from South Africa now.

Up until this point this blog has been a little bit of a misconception because really it has been livefromrochesterhillsmi. But now it's the real deal. I'm feeling spoiled in the moment because I still have access to the pearly white keys I'm used to with my mac at home.

Yup, we're here. It is... 19:04 here, on Sunday night. 1 pm your time.

Time is kind of a crazy thing, so I'm actually doing my best not to concern myself with it too much. Getting here was kind of a blur now that I look back. A: because time kept changing at our in-between destinations so a real hourly count would take some backtracking that I'm not willing to do. and B: I was in a state of half-awake-half-asleep unknowing daze that I couldn't seem to shake. My body had been awake for 40 hrs straight and wasn't really giving in to sleep. So I had a rough time, but I'm thankful because I'm pretty sure I was having the worst time of it out of all of the people in our group and it really wasn't that bad. This is my first experience with Jet Lag, so I'm doing my best to keep the side effects to a minimum. But all of the travels went exceedingly well. Planes left on time, bags got where they were meant to be, and through customs without a second glance..

Sarah took the moment to note, sometimes you can just stop and think that making it through customs with 1,000 pounds of donated medications with no back up plan as a cool little coincidence, and sometimes you can just stop and think "hey God, that was awesome- Thank you for being here with us, on this day, in this moment".

Today we did a lot of church. Went on a bumpy and exciting car ride to Empembeni to sing our praises, hear testimony, and Rev Rob's guest sermon on love. It was quite an amazing first experience to have. (Literally my first experience in Africa)

Theres a huge language and cultural barrier, and the constant battle of fighting jet lag, but I sat there and felt just as connected, if not more in my plastic lawn chair to the Zulu words as I did last Sunday in the hearty wooden pews at Genesis. And the weekend before at my dear Kensington.

The music is unreal. These people have been given a gift to sing...and I think they just might know it. Music that moves- made from no more than the voices, hands and feet that they've been given. No sound checks, no lyrical support...everyone just knows, and everyone just sings. Even me.

As Rev Rob was getting ready to go up, one of the South African girls came up to Sarah and I and said, "Excuse me, I don't mean to bother you- but would you like to teach Sunday school?" Anna piped up with a yes, so Anna and Sarah taught 10 zulu babies about Noah's Ark, while I sat in back to watch. I had a feeling that this situation had entertainment potential, and I'd have to say it was quite the jack pot.

We did the same at Grace Evangelical Church a few hours later, (minus the impromptu Sunday School) which is the Mafu's church right across the street. The only sad thing about church today was not being able to announce our medical clinics... Trying to remain flexible about the wrinkles we have not had the opportunity to smooth out, we were only able to bring the people our smiling faces today.

The afternoon demanded some down time, and then we went to the Beach. Probably not the type of Beach you're picturing... probably about twice as cool though. Mcepseni caught a crab, and let me hold it. We were digging it up, and I reached for it- but apparently I was trying to grab it by it's one huge claw, which is really not the way to attempt it. So I was to wait until he had it dug up to hold it.

Everyone is in the room behind me counting meds (one pill at a time, mind you) so the time has come to join my team. I'm sure I will be able to blog again soon.

Sala kahle.
(Stay Well)

Uphi my worship book?

I'm gonna let the words of our lovely and loving leader Sarah Roberston rock this post. Via email copy and paste.

The weather in Durban (check me, Cathy!) is in the high 70s and sunny. Yippee!!
Don't eat any salty foods for the next few days. It'll make your flying experience better.
Drink lots of water over the next few days. Same reason.
Start those malaria meds - and bring them with you.
Locate your passport right now. Don't lose it!
Locate your Bible right now. Don't lose it!!

And let's all be praying together for the following:

Safe travel, smooth border crossings, and welcoming hearts from the officials that greet us at every airport

Safety and protection as we travel around South Africa, for us and the Mafus and the team of Zulu friends that will be helping us

The blessing and chance to put on our clinics

Sufficient medicine to serve the people we will see

That unity, peace, joy and forgiveness might reign over our team in the next two weeks

Protection and support for those we are leaving behind

God's will.

the difference between here and there.

So you have something in mind. A date. An event. Something that makes you use statements like, "until then..." or "after that", or even just letting yourself be excited for it. Because eventually it will be there.

You make plans.

But more often than not, at least in my life anyway, something comes through to re-route those plans. Because things get cancelled, the money you had set aside has gone toward something else, you forgot about a detail, you didn't get the job, or he sat you down and told you he doesn't want to marry you anymore.

And then suddently when you actually arrive at that day where you are supposed to be at your metaphorical destination...you're not at all where you once thought you'd be. Sometimes it's a good thing, because where you wanted to be was really no good anyway. But sometimes it sucks.

You can think of the place you thought you'd be, and surely long for it. But whatever route was going to get you there has developed a road block... and all of your ever loving plans are out the window. You're left with dissapointment, and the only option still viable is to keep your chin up and try again another day.

But sometimes.
Every now and then.
Maybe when you were just about to give up.

You get to your destination.

Because you wanted it, you worked, you hoped and prayed...and you got there! And getting there, lets you know that this is exactly where you're supposed to be. And maybe without all of those roadblocks down other paths you might not have made it.

For all the dissapointment, and unlaid plans I've ever run to on my own path- I have, for the first time in my life, reached my destination.

I am going to South Africa on Friday.

I am going to South Africa on Friday.

I am going to South Africa on Friday.

go time, baby.

Well we're in the final stages... 6 days! My fingers so very badly want to blog about everything that's going on right now: Pack-ups, Dinners, changing people's minds about venison. But sadly they have to do homework, study, fill out paperwork from the car accident I was in yesteday (thanks for that one, Oh Evil One). So much is taking me away from the thing I want to do most.

I don't have time to breathe. But I said to someone yesterday, "I think I will breathe better in South Africa". So I focus on the sun on my face, the green trees, and needing patients I will see...and do my best to power through all the very-un-important-feeling-stuff.

The next six days will be about powering through...and I will breathe when I get there.

I pray...

I am blogging from my Blackberry right now! This either makes me incredibly cool, or a huge tool...I'll just leave it up to you to decide! But being the avid blogger that I am (my own personal blog is http://jessswanson.blogspot.com) I find this new bridge of technology very exciting. And also I apologize if there are lots of typos, it's a very tiny screen!

Anyway, I felt like a very major follow up from my last posting was due after our team met yesterday. In our very dreary and cold basement, under an afternoon thunderstorm, the team sat around a circular table "like dinner!" I exclaimed when I realized what we were doing, with one of Sarah's absolutely delicious brownies still half-masticated in my mouth. Always a lady.

Anyway, we passed around charts from last year. A huge stack from just one day of last year's work. When it got to me I said "alright God, pick me a good one!", moved my hand from the one I was going to grab and chose another. We all went around, butchered our patient's lovely Zulu names into our own unrecognizable English version of their names. We lifted them up to God, prayed for that person.

At first I contemplated saying "I can't do this" when it became my turn. I couldn't pronounce her name, and furthermore I didn't know what to say. But strength was summoned from inside, and just enough was there to get it out. She was remarkably ill, they all were. But looking at this list of symptoms, and most heartbreaking, her age- I knew I couldn't pray for her comfort or her healing in the way everyone had just done for their patient.

With shaky hands and eyes very very desperately holding back tears I just prayed for that would God would usher her to His side.

The same fate that I have happily accepted for my own life. Scares me very deeply for this woman. I've prayed that prayer a million times for myself, and through out life when death inevitably makes its way back into my life. But it's never felt like that. Never quite like that. Praying for a piece of paper. The name upon which I couldn't even read.

I will not claim that I don't cry. But I am unrelenting when it comes to sticking to my life-long identity of being the girl who slaps a smile on everything. I went through 8 years of braces, and also its a pretty handy coping mechanism. I realized yesterday that I will not be slapping a smile on this trip. These people are going to see me cry, probably a lot.

I want to meet my piece-of-paper lady. I want to pray open-handedly with her, I WANT HER TO TEACH ME HOW TO SAY HER NAME, and as the theme of this post dictates, I want to get the chance to cry with her, even better: to laugh.

She has no idea, wherever she is. But she is changing my life. From a piece of paper.

Thy Will Be Done

Today is the first day of April, which means we have officially entered the month in which we leave! I took a deep shaky breath on March 16th when I realized I had a month. But today, I embrace it with arms thrown into the air and a big smile on my face. A: because I'm excited, and B: because I'm a lot more ready now. Shots done, Letter to the bank, Scrubs bought, Gifts bought, Bags semi-packed. Oh yeah, and My Last Will and Testament written.

Mine was pretty short and sweet, a text message to my best friend Katie saying.

Hey, I need to write my will before I go to South Africa. This is it: If I die, you get my Mac. Save this text.

Oh, the epitome of lame. I know. But the thing is I don't have that much to leave behind. With the exception of my small amount of Credit Card Debt, and my very expensive laptop...which has been known to help Katie out with her Teaching Homework for OU.

It's not that I don't take death seriously, or think that I am invincible. It's just that I'm really not that scared of it. If I die, I go home. To be with God, my maker and all of those who came before me. I'm pretty fierce about guarding the ones I love, and loving them way too much here on earth. So I can only imagine I would make a formidable Guardian Angel.

But in all seriousness, I trust God.

It's a heavy statement. Try saying it out loud. I trust God. And when he wants me where he wants me I will go. Faithfully. Fearlessly. Even out of this world.

Maybe, its the Easter season. Maybe it's my limited knowledge of the Bible. But I am posting from the Message version of John 14:1-7.

Don't let this throw you. You trust God, don't you? Trust me. There is plenty of room for you in my Father's home. If that weren't so, would I have told you that I'm on my way to get a room ready for you? And if I'm on my way to get your room ready, I'll come back and get you so you can live where I live. And you already know the road I'm taking."

5Thomas said, "Master, we have no idea where you're going. How do you expect us to know the road?"

6-7Jesus said, "I am the Road, also the Truth, also the Life. No one gets to the Father apart from me. If you really knew me, you would know my Father as well. From now on, you do know him. You've even seen him!"

So anyway, the point of today's post: Write Your Will! and Happy Easter :)