who said, "all good things must come to an end?"

I finished my last week of ministry. I can hardly believe it is ending.

Out of everything I have seen and done and been apart of this year, I may be more surprised by the fact that I’m finishing than anything else.

An end?

I knew in that there was one in theory.  Somewhere out in the deep dark yonder there was a closing to this school. But now, all of the sudden, its at finger tips length. I can almost reach out and touch it. And even though I feel as though I’d like to run from it- seems as though I don’t have a choice. My time is definitely coming to a finish.

Comes with a lot of emotions. Sad to leave this life behind.  To walk away from Africa and the simple lifestyle of living in a third world nation. I love what I do, why would I want to leave it?  It has only been 8 months, but the most life altering, eye-opening 8 months of my life. It seems impossible to part with the girls on my team The ones that once were once just good acquaintances but now part of my family line. They are my sisters. What does a world without them look like everyday?  How can I live in a world that doesn’t allow me to rub the belly of every pregnant woman that I see? Part of me- a big part of me isn’t ready to return. This has become my reality and even in the toughness of it I cant help but think, “don’t make me go back.”

And yet, in the same breath-I’m constantly aware that someday soon I’ll get to hug my mom again. I’ll see my family and not just through a computer screen but in person. I’ll get to share the stories I haven’t gotten to write about and then I get hear stories about what’s been happening in the lives of the ones I love so much. I get to go home.  I get to meet my new cousin- who I was hoping would hangout an extra 8 months in my aunts womb before she came out, but to my great disappointment, decided to be a normal baby. (Just kidding Zo. I’m glad you’re here now, but as pay back I think your betrothed to my midwifery skills- someday I get to deliver your babies.)

Eleven months ago, when I left home, I left behind the people I love most in this world. Never once has that been an easy thing to do. Missing birthdays and anniversaries. Family trips and Christmas. Seeing pictures of my loved ones and feeling the sting of not being amongst them.  It’s been hard. My life that I have come to love so much has not been without sacrifice. But now, all the sudden, I get to see my family and friends again.  And I am so excited for that.

Basically, I am the epitome of mix emotions.

I recently heard someone say, “We all have those defining moments in life …where we will never be the same again… and you can look back in your life and know that God engineered something in you and you knew it would forever change you.”

This year was it for me. It was defining.

Today is our last official day here. It is filled with packing and cleaning and purchasing souvenirs and trying to find a way to figure out how to live amongst other white people again someday soon. We are processing and debriefing and mostly just enjoying each other’s company.  I fly out of Uganda in tomorrow, reach Dubai and then make my way back to the land down under on the 24^th of May. Be praying for me as I learn to adjust. As I travel, once again, and as I say goodbye to the only life that’s really ever made so much sense to me. 

back on the boat

I got off the boat and noticed her impending pregnant belly poking out to me right away. In Africa, it’s okay to hold someone’s hand. Even if it’s a stranger. It’s a sign of friendship. And as someone whose love language happens to be physical touch, my love tank is regularly overflowing here in Uganda. I grabbed her hand and interlocked my finger into hers before even introducing myself. I genuinely loved her.  And she felt safe with me.

  

“I’ve been pregnant for a year,” she told me. And I could see the exhaustion in her eyes. As if her ragged clothes and calloused hands weren’t enough of a signal.

Obviously she hasn’t been pregnant for a year. But these women on the island have never really been educated in pregnancy. Their periods stop and they eventually started growing and someday they feel pain and start pushing. That’s about the most they know of the life that regularly grows inside of them.

It’s her 7^th baby and she wasn’t planning on having anymore.  She is 28.

The village had been made aware that midwives were coming to the to see them. And not just any midwives- white ones. Many of the women walked for a good part of the day just to be seen by us. We are a group of 4 and this time we have a staff person with us- a midwife from Germany that continues to teach us as we see the women. Having someone with so much experience around is so helpful. We split up on this day and two of the girls stayed to give immunizations and make the babies (and sometimes the mamas) cry while me and another went back to a mud hut to start the antenatal checks.  Immediately we had many women line up to be seen. It’s not like the hospital here on the island. Even if it’s a long line we aren’t forced to rush through each check. We can actually take the time with each woman. See her. Listen to here. Advise her. Pray with her. And check the progress of her and her unborn baby. I realize the value this gives them. I listen to their stories; some of them have never seen a doctor or a midwife and have delivered all 8 of their children on their own. It hasn’t been by choice though and it hasn’t been without complication. And now, we’re here and we get to show them attention. God, thank you for loving these women enough to send me here to see them.

I start with my new best friend, the woman who is sure she’s been “with child” for a year now. I ask her a lot of questions, many vital ones that she doesn’t know the answers to and try to explain to her how a pregnancy works. After some time, I check her stomach and measure the height of her uterus. This can give me an idea of how far along she is but it’s not always an accurate one. Without a scan it’s the only option we have here. The shape of her stomach and the feel of the baby inside her womb alludes me to believe there might just be 2 in there. I saw this so often in Tanzania that I’ve become familiar with twins. Again, no scan and no option of one, so I can’t be sure of this but I know I need to share the information with her anyways. I gently let the mom know that she still has weeks to go (in her “year long pregnancy”) and then I let her know she might just carrying more than one baby inside of her. I’m apprehensive to share this information because there’s a real possibility she will feel the need to end this pregnancy. But I’m obliged to be honest with her. She doesn’t deserve to be shocked after one baby comes out to find out there’s another still in there.  I take my chances with her and let her know of the possibility.

I see the look of fear and disappoint in her face. She’s a lovely mother and I am sure she loves her children very much but she’s not ready for baby number 7 and definitely not prepared for 7 and 8 at the same time. I feel for her. And try to encourage her that she’s blessed with so many children because God knows she’s a good mother and can handle it.

She humors me and laughs at my attempt to comfort her.  I ask her if I can have a photo with her and her beautiful stomach.

“this is not a stomach,” she tells me, “it’s a big huge balloon.”

Her African accent and the fact that she’s conversing with me in English makes me laugh.

I wish I could be there for her. Help her out. I know she’s working hard plowing the field, possibly carrying two babies inside of her, taking care of 6 other children, and still convinced that she’s been pregnant for a year. I wish I could do something more for her. God knows I’d take the pregnant on for myself if I could. Relieve her back pain and carry her twins for a few days for her? Oh yeah- I’d do it. But reality reminds me it’s not an option. So together we pray. And I leave it in Gods hands. Because that’s all I can do.

I saw many other women after her and each came with their own unique story. Some young, some old. Many pregnant for the umpteenth time and many in desperate need for some good healthcare. Malnourished, poor blood, urinary tract infections, and no idea of what’s really happening with their bodies. There are no What to Expect When Your Expecting books in this village. Pregnancy is often just a painful mystery. They need someone to invest long term in their village- to be with them, to educate them, to deliver their babies and teach them natural family planning. To show them how to plant good foods for their bodies so they can eat the right way. They need someone to empower them in their pregnancy. I wish it could be me, but right now I know my only option is to be this person for them for the day. I do what I can in the small amount of time that we’re there, knowing that it’s not enough but hopeful that it’s at least helping. I am not discrediting the work that I did while my team and I were there. I am grateful the women were seen. I am grateful they learned, even just a little and I am hopeful that they retained the information that was shared with them. I could leave the island feeling helpless, hopeless, and defeated but it’s not what I see. I know God is at work there and I know that in the midst of the great tragedy it can be, there is a solution.

I continued to be incredibly blessed by the family that lives there and is investing into the people, learning the skills necessary to help the people out. The island this week was another amazing experience.  Spending time with the family was an additional treat and overall it was a great ending to our ministry time here in Uganda.

my year, my eyes

As an end of the year project we were asked to creatively answer the question to, "What is God’s heart for mother and child healthcare in the nations"

Here's my response;

I have watched a group of individual women leave their homes, leave their family, their jobs, their relationships, their lives and board a plane not knowing what was to be expected when they landed. Not knowing what the future held but expectant of letting God use them in the nations. I watched women willing to pursue God’s heart for midwifery knowing that ultimately it would be his Heart for the nations and the women and babies that fill them.

 

I watched the first time we officially gathered as a group. We were friendly and still a bit mysterious to one another but I saw us forming our friendships. Bonding in our sisterhood. Aware of that our future lives would be tied together.

I have watched women awkwardly pronounce the bones and the structures of a pelvis. I watched as we eagerly soaked in any ounce of information pertaining to midwifery. We were hungry for the knowledge, desperate for the wisdom. And we were finally around a group of people who felt the same way. We soaked in the goodness of Gods value for pregnant women. We learned to be advocates for justice. For women and children. It was real yet it was all still in theory.

Then we left. We boarded a plane and landed in the ever so noisy and colorful streets of Hyderabad. We were students not just learning in the hospitals. We were students to the culture, students to the customs. Students to one another. Learning how to live life with others in sometime challenging circumstances. We were students to patience and selflessness, flexibility and understanding. Our boundaries were pushed. Our own cultures were challenged and yet we learned how to love one another in the midst of it. We learned, after all that this too was Gods heart.  Unity. Respecting and valuing the women amongst us so that we could have the authority to value the ones who needed it most. Those who were in the hospital having babies and suffering because of it.

I watched as we fumbled in the hospital. Hands shaking and thoughts unsure. I watched as we tried to put into practice everything we’ve studied over the past 3 months. We were still hungry for the knowledge but we were hungry for more than just book smarts. We wanted to get our hands messy. We wanted to serve. We wanted to deliver babies. And we did. 273 of them in fact.  Our theory became reality. We were learning in a different way now.

I watched as we built relationships amongst the people in India. The mothers, the doctors, the sisters, the diiiiiiiimaaaaas.  We learned to invest into the lives of Gods people. We ate rice and spicy curry with our hands and sipped on milky chai while sharing the gospel. We prayed. We learned to laugh and to cry and let our hearts be filled with compassion, joy, and love for the people we met. We made friends. We shared Gods heart and got to experience more of it at the same time.

We became Indian princesses. (well, sort of)   We let ourselves be used by the Savior. We saw the fruit of our work, usually. And we learned to trust God when we didn’t.  I watched as we lived in India. We loved in India. And we grew as midwives and as women in India.

And then I watched as we took on our next adventure.

We went back to the classroom. But now behind every lesson we had a story. An encounter that helped bring understanding. We studied together. We committed to learning the knowledge not for our own benefit, but for the benefit of the women. For the moms that we were meeting on a daily basis. PPH became real.  Obstructed labor was what we physically saw when we went to work. And all the sudden we knew how to spot it and handle it. We could help. I watched as a group of inexperienced, young midwife students took on the task of caring for women in labor. Taking on the challenge of complications. Relying on the Lord for answers. And seeing lives saved as a result of it.

We lost our first mom in Tanzania. We lost babies. Too many to count. I watched as we had moments of doubts and insecurities. Wondering why God was allowing this to happen. But then I watched as we realized it was time to step into battle. To fight for the women. To fight for the lives of the babies. We saw life. And while we weren’t always successful, we knew firsthand that the enemy was there to steal, kill, and destroy and we weren’t about to sit back and let that happen.

And then to my pleasant surprise, I watched as we turned into to midwives.  I watched as God did miracles in the hospital and in our lives. I watched and was reminded that God loves these women so much that He sent us to come to them. He hasn’t forgotten them. He hasn’t forsaken them. He’s not leaving them. We’re here for them. Because He loves them.

Then I watched as we completed our studies. We took on the task of the hospital 5 days a week.. We did well. We exhausted ourselves in the best way possible and then we prepared to pack up. Again.

I watched as we finally made it to Uganda. The last stretch. Can it be? 

I’ve watched as my sisters have worked as midwives. I’ve watched as they’ve confidentially taught women around them the importance of eating right and taking care of themselves during their pregnancy. I’ve watched as they’ve worked in a labor room, confident of what they were doing. Secure in their movements and motives. I’ve watched as they’ve given injection after injection to countless number of women and babies. I’ve watched as they’ve sat in a mud hut with just enough light peaking through a cracked door and answered the questions of a concerned mother. “No, mama. You haven’t been pregnant for one year.”

How did this happen? How did these girls, most of whom have never even seen a birth learn so much over the year?

And then I’m reminded that this too is Gods heart for women and child health.  God’s heart is to see women willing to go.

I learned that women are capable of incredible things. I learned that God has made us strong and sometimes that looks different for different circumstances. Sometimes it means she’s strong enough to leave her home knowing she won’t return for a year. Sometimes it means she’s willing to face her fears. To look at confidence and choose to be clothed in it, not for her own sake but for the sake of others. It means she’ll use her skills even before she feels ready to.

Sometimes it means growing a life inside of her, nourishing it, loving it, and then laboring through it so it can welcomed into the world.

One thing for certain is that God’s heart is for women. He loves us. God never intended for a woman to sit alone on a cold bed covered with cockroaches and give birth. God never intended for women to die because of hemorrhaging or lack of blood available in the local bank.  God never intended to form a life and then lose it moments after welcoming it into the world. And while, at times, it may have seemed this way over the year, I have learned and I can say with certainty that His heart was and never is going to be for these things. That’s why He sent us.  That’s why He wooed us away from our homes and sparked in us an interest for pregnancy and childbearing women. He hasn’t turned His back on the tragedy in the labor room. His heart is breaking over it. And that’s why our hearts broke too. And that’s why He’s still sending us, still molding us into midwives and women who fight for the well being of other women.

week 4: Over (and sometimes under) the river and through the woods...

Today I feel like I got hit by a semi truck- after finishing an invasive surgery on my back. The pain is well worth the experience though. I went white water rafting down the Nile River with a few of my friends. It wasn't until we were on the river that we were told we would be rafting grade 5 rapids- which happens to be the highest grade possible to raft and apparently the most dangerous.
Fun!
I swallowed a lot of water and besides having incredibly sore muscles, I also have picked up a pretty rough cold.

perhaps the reason why I am in so much pain today?

 I am heading to the Islands again tomorrow though(who-hooo!) so I wanted the chance to give a quick update since I won't have internet access for the next week.
Because of my physical condition , which I take fully responsibility for (i'd do it again in a second) I am going to try and keep this one short.

I was on the home team this week. If you don't remember what that is, you can scroll down to a few posts ago and read about what that means.

I started the week off with a trip to the capital city, Kampala -again. Because of some issues going on with my Australian visa I have to continue to make the trip to the big city to get things taken care of. The doctors visit went well but after the doctor I got an email that basically told me I wouldn't be getting into Australia anytime soon. My natural emotion was to be upset. I am still working on remaining joyful in the midst of bad news. How do people do it? I let my flesh take over and spent most of the day crying and questioning why this was happening to me.
It wasn't until the next morning when I really took the time to sit with the Lord and ask Him that question that I felt like I got an answer. I really felt challenged to stand firm on the truth that God is good and He makes a way for His children. I know I was called to be apart of this school and part of this school is going back to Australia to debrief the year and say goodbye to the girls that have become my sisters. I think when we walk in Gods will we put our self in the front line of the battle. We're attacked and yet we have the capability to remain victorious. A lot of scripture references to suffering so I think it kind of goes without saying that we aren't above it happening. However, in the midst of things not going the way we think they should we still have an option to respond from a place of trust and understanding- instead of allowing our self front row seats to our own pity party.
I like the way the Message puts this scripture in James 1:

 ^2-4Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don't try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way.

 ^5-8If you don't know what you're doing, pray to the Father. He loves to help. You'll get his help, and won't be condescended to when you ask for it. Ask boldly, believingly, without a second thought. People who "worry their prayers" are like wind-whipped waves. Don't think you're going to get anything from the Master that way, adrift at sea, keeping all your options open. 

Am I preaching right now? I think I might be. Well let me just wrap this up by saying I also felt like God told me that in 3 days I would see breakthrough. I was apprehensive to speak out something so bold. I had just gotten an email that had basically told me it would be 2 weeks before I heard anything. But I stepped out in faith. I trusted my understanding of God and remembered the power in His voice and I shared this news with my team. Three days later, quite early in the morning I got on the internet and saw that my health requirements had been approved for the granting of my visa. Hallelujah! This was my main hold up and it got approved in 3 days. Almost unheard of. God is so faithful. So thank you for your prayers. Seriously. I know you guys are praying for me and this story has to be written proof that God is hearing our prayers. Now I just need the actual visa to be granted this week. I'm hopeful for the outcome.

Besides my visa, I was actually apart of ministry this week too. We did some teaching, spent a day at the hospital, visited and prayed with some people in one of the nearby villages, spent some time at an orphanage and went to a women's prison where I ended up having a dance off with a woman triple my age. Let me tell you... Grandma's got some moves!

I am really appreciating the culture here. It's so different from my own, but it helps bridge my gap of misunderstanding the way things are around the world. 

this beautiful bub lost his mom in delivery. .

I played soccer with some of the local kids (and even with 10 years of experience under my belt the 7 year olds still totally skilled me) I spent my evenings at a prayer/worship meeting with some teachers from Uganda. We went late most of the nights and spent a lot of time just shaking our hips. Worship looks really different in Uganda. It is no surprise to anyone but I will say it anyway- YES, Africans can indeed dance! And even if they can't, I know it wouldn't stop them. I appreciate their willingness to step out. There is definitely other things they struggle with but looking foolish is not one of them. That's something I think in the West we battle with on a daily basis- this fear of looking foolish. I'm learning to feel more comfortable in my skin and I thank that people of Uganda for that.

I'm reminded on a daily basis that my adventure here is soon coming to an end. Besides the fact that I have a constant reminder that I'm running out of time for my visa, my teammates and I can't deny the realization that this lifestyle will soon just be a great memory. I can't imagine not living with so many women. It's just all I've done for the last year. If you want to be challenged-community living is definitely the way to go. I have grown so much just by living with so many other people. Learning to be selfless mostly. Honoring others above myself. My team has challenged me, sharpened me, and allowed an atmosphere for a lot of personal/character growth. It hasn't always been easy though. Often times I come home and my computers being used or its uncharged, I can't find my phone, someone's eaten my food and wearing my skirt and sitting on my bed. I can allow the thought of "this bothers me" to enter into my head...but I've learned to push that away. I love living like "what's yours is mine" I feel honored that these girls feel comfortable enough with me that they can take my stuff. It really puts into perspective not storing my treasures here on earth. I like that I have no option but to share my things, because after all they aren't really MY things. 

I definitely look forward to a hot shower someday soon. And a toilet. And clothes that have been washed, for a change. Who knows, maybe I'll even get to drive an actual car and not squeeze on the back of a motorcycle with 2 other people on it. I look forward to a day when I don't live with crawling creatures of all various shapes and sizes and I don't have to be concerned for the well being of my life every time I take a sip of water. I remember that these things do indeed exists and when I get to experience them once again, I am sure I will have some form of celebration. But in the meantime I'm genuinely happy where I'm at. Dirty feet and all.

And I said this one was going to be short.

Before I go though, let me just end by saying Happy Mother's Day to all of you mommas out there. I am genuinely amazed by you and extremely appreciative of what you do on a daily basis. I think every day should be Mother's Day, ladies. Maybe just without the expectation of carnations and picture frames? Maybe. 

week 3: Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.

In a hut on a small village on an unknown island I sat on the dirt floor and laid out a straw mat. The line of women outside the door was long. There are no windows in the hut so the door must remain slightly cracked-just to let enough light sneak in without letting the passerby’s eyes peak in. I am doing antenatal checks. Most of the women have been pregnant many times, six times, seven times, some even onto their eighth pregnancy. This is not new to them but perhaps having someone take the time to check them, to answer their questions, and explain their lower back pain-is. And then to remind them they must be drinking clean water and eating more than once a day.

Impossible.

That’s the look I always received back. But I go on encouraging anyway, in hopes they might take the extra time to boil the lake water and actually drink it. That they might put something more in their mouth than a cassava plant. These women are malnourished and they’re growing life inside of them.  I can’t do much to convince them otherwise though. The lifestyle that they live doesn’t allow time or finances for more food. Water is something for the lake. There is little understanding of the necessity to life that it holds.

Woman after woman after woman I invited in to lay down on the straw mat while I interviewed them, gave them time to tell me about their concerns, answered them the best way I could knowing there is little on the island that can be done about their problems, checked their belly’s, their blood pressure, and listened to their babies heartbeat. It was long and exhausting and came immediately following an already big task of immunizing lots and lots of babies and some mothers, but I couldn’t grow weary of my line.

This is it.  My teammate and I are all these women have, so let the line grow. Keep them coming. Let these women be checked and counseled for the only time they probably will be.

I wish I could share every story that I came across, every woman that I had the privilege of spending time with but I would have to write a novel. And who has time for that? I will summarize my encounters by saying I am blown away at the life that is lived on these Islands in these little villages. It’s primitive. That almost goes without saying. I can’t help but wonder where are we, people? The harvest is ripe, but THE WORKERS ARE FEW. These people need us. They need hope.  They need healthcare. They need counseling and teaching and someone who loves them enough to go and then stay and invest to see changes.

Around Lake Victoria and the Lingira Islands there sits about 60 other small islands. All inhabited by these incredible human beings. Only way to travel is by boat, so that’s what we did everyday. Sometime visiting villages 2 hours away from our Island. There is a family who we stayed with on the main island. They are part of a YWAM base that was started some 20 years ago. They expressed the issues that were obvious amongst the people but they also acknowledged the incredible growth and transformation they’ve seen over the years because they have stayed and invested into the lives of these people. Over a family breakfast we listened to Mama Kathryn tell us how she’s exhausted by the work on the island and how she doesn’t love living here, not like this. But then her eyes welled up, against her permission, and she cried as she told us she sat on the boat one day overlooking the water and asking God, “why am I here?” There was a hint of complaint in her question to the Creator.  She went on to tell us she heard His voice speak clearly back to her,

“Because I love these people.”

That was enough to allow her to push through. To stay and to continue to invest. This is an amazing family. Selfless and hardworking and dedicated to the Lord and to the love He has for His people. I was blessed beyond measure for the time I got to spend with a family. It’s been a long time since I have been with an actual family, in the traditional terms anyways. And I couldn’t have picked a better family to spend time with. Mama Kathyrn and her husband David have 6 children, most of them don’t live on the island but go to school in the cities. Two of children were back for vacation so we got to spend time with them. Nancy is 16 and Brian is 14. I made some new best friends. They are the sweetest children. Working extremely hard and never once grumbling about it.  These kids respect their mother and they love God. Ah, it’s refreshing to see teenagers act this way.  So, it’s possible after all!  The family works along one man, Dr. Mike who is not an actual doctor but the only one committed to seeing the people and trying to treat them. They have a small clinic on the YWAM base where Dr. Mike works sometimes until 2 or 3 in the morning seeing patients who come from long journeys just to be seen.  Along with Dr. Mike is Abraham, a man who has vigorously and in an incredibly organized manner set up an immunization program. He visits a different island 3 days of the week and when he arrives the Chief of the village greets him and calls his people to come and get immunized. Over the three days of working with him we saw hundreds and hundreds of women and babies. We gave out a lot of vaccinations. I made a lot of small children and babies cry with shots but I think it was worth it. Everyday as we entered back onto the boat to make our way back to our island I couldn’t help but think how many deaths were prevented by our trip. Babies who wouldn’t die of polio or measles. Mothers who wouldn’t suffer from tuberculosis. I commend Abraham for his work. He has been going at it for 20 years and he has an amazing system set up. I am not sure if he has ever had any professional training, but I am sure now that he is a professional. I don’t care what diploma he’s missing. I commend this small group of people who work with YWAM. They need help. They need more workers to come so- if you love beautiful lakes, amazing people, gorgeous scenery, African children, or even just serving where there is a great need then I invite you to come. I invite you on behalf of Kathryn and her family and on the behalf of all the people on the Island who would love to meet you.

It was a week that changed my perspective on life. It opened my eyes to the reality of the great need and also to the great God that we serve. In two weeks I will go back to the Island and I can hardly wait.

Before I sign off, I’d just like to mention that I am currently in the waiting process for my Australian visa. I am supposed to leave Uganda in 3 weeks and head back to Australia with my team. This last week in Australia is a vital part of our course as it is a time to debrief our year together and say goodbye (a task that seems impossible to me right now) Well, actually it really may be impossible for me if I don’t get my visa granted. I had to get some medicals done in the capital city here and there’s some complications going on. The details are not so interesting, but if I can make a strong request, it would be that you would join me prayer and ask that I get this visa released to me, today preferably.

sometimes our long boat trips turned into long naps

traveling by boda boda (motorcycle) to get to a more remote village

Kathryn and her children

this is baby Moses, a baby that was delivered 3 years ago on the boat from a previous school

me and my new little brother, brian

the crew for the week