what is God's heart for maternal and child healthcare?

A dear friend of mine made a beautiful video to answer this question. It's worth watching...and then replaying. 

If you watch, I'd love to hear your response to seeing this video. What do you think about it? 

Feel free to post a comment. It's pretty simple to do. You can just click on the link that mentions "comment" or the small pencil icon and write. 

For me, its a reminder. It's why I go.
"Every pregnant woman should be looked after."
"No woman in labor should be left alone."
"No baby should lack help."

They are simple, yet powerful statements.
And while we are looking at cartoons images, I am remembering real faces. Real situations. Real human beings in real awful circumstances.

But God hasn't turned His back on this tragedy. He isn't leaving them alone.
He is there and He is using us, He is using me- to help make this different.
I am so grateful to serve a God that sends and saves and loves.

aussie aussie aussie?

So I find myself back in the Land Down Under. I’m snuggled up in a sweater (that they refer to as a “jumper”) and I am wearing boots and a scarf and a jacket and I’m somehow still cold. It’s the dead of the winter and I’m trying to figure out how to transition from the scorching Las Vegas sun to the cold winter nights here in Perth. What a big world we live in.

While the weather may be the most abrupt change in my life it seems minuscule in comparison to the other kind of transitions I am trying to make.  I find myself still trying to process my last 9 months. Often sitting with the memories of the hospital, I can still envision many of the women I worked with.  My experiences seem real, sometimes more painfully real than I’m prepared to deal with, but they also seem like an abstract idea. Did I really just do that?

Yeah- I did. And the joy and the pain that I carry around with me in my heart as a result of it acts as a constant reminder for me.

It reminds me that I walked through some difficult times. I saw death on a daily basis. But I also saw life and I saw miracles and I saw Gods heart. And I watched Him move in the nations amongst the women He loves so dearly.

 I’m so grateful for what I got to do and be apart of. And I’m so grateful I get to continue being apart of this.

But today I didn’t work in a hospital. I didn’t deliver a baby and I’m not sure I even saw a pregnant woman? So Lord, why’d You call me here? Why am sitting I in Australia when the need is elsewhere?

As I have adjusted back into this culture this question has come up several times. A new group of students arrived last weekend and on Monday we began the school, once again. I’m still sitting in the class and I’m definitely still learning but this time I’m not considered the student. I’m the staff. Responsible for discipling and leading these women into being God-fearing and good midwives! So as I help prepare things for lectures and make rosters and spend more hours starring at a computer screen than I ever imagined in my life, I have to stop and think about what I’m doing. It was easy to see the fruit of my labor in the labor room but this proves to be more difficult. Who would have thought…getting away from the death and the chaos and only then being greeted with uncertainty.   

What I mean to say is- when you’re a missionary and you are working in a hospital in Africa and you’re delivering babies it’s pretty easy to see that your hard work is making a difference in the nations. It’s easy to see God’s heart and hear His voice. But when you’re sitting in an office and all the sudden you go to bed without any blood on your elbows -it’s hard to see any value in the work you’re doing.  It’s easy to feel useless. And yet, somehow, God in all His beauty, patience, and graciousness has continued to teach me. And I continue to be humbled by His wisdom. As the Lord gently reminded me this week, the type of work I am doing right now is not only equally important, but its also completely necessary. Knowing that part of going into the nations requires equipping people to go. Knowing I’m spending hours making rosters for Gods Kingdom makes it not only easier, but actually more enjoyable. And I get to be apart of others answering the call God has on their life. I get to help train and see Godly midwives sent out to the nations. Out to help the women who I care about so deeply.

We need more workers and here they are and I get to be with them!

It’s just such a privilege.

So while I wont stop missing the labor room (I just cant) I have come to realize that this is where I’m called to be. I am being stretched and challenged with new things. I am getting the opportunity, once again, to be apart of something so much bigger than myself. I look forward to the day I get to welcome life into the world again (just 21/2 months away) but I also look forward to Monday- when classes start again and I get to see the students getting a heart for the same thing I have a heart for.

And that’s amazing. 

I look forward to keeping you updated over the next couple months. Thanks for your support.

love you.

oh, I miss you, you know

--->side note - I wrote this post almost 2 weeks ago but haven't had the chance to post it yet.

Right now I am sitting in an airport in San Francisco.  I’m about to board a 15-hour flight and no matter how often I travel, I can hardly get used to these long hours. 

I love the airport, I do, but as I continue to live the lifestyle that I do I have become increasingly more aware that with every airport also comes a goodbye. I can’t deny that I enjoy the solitude, the occasional glass of wine in the random side kiosk, and the guarantee of knowing that with every goodbye I am greeted with new and sometimes familiar "hellos.”  My lifestyle, while often may be lacking in luxury, is definitely not lacking in privilege. So as I sit here it's easy to feel excited for what’s to come.  The emotion, however, that’s currently standing on top of my excitement is the sting of saying goodbye to my loved ones. 

My time at home was filled with lazy nights with my family, good conversations with old friends, catching up with acquaintances, and playing pretend at Disneyland (I love that place.) And while all of these things were beautiful, they were rushed and compressed and flew by faster than I would have preferred. I enjoyed being home, if I can even call it that anymore, and I am extraordinarily grateful for the time I did have there. So to the many of faces I finally got to see in person and to the new friends who I met for the first time- thank you for making my trip home memorable. I might not be the biggest fan of Las Vegas, but I am the BIGGEST fan of what Las Vegas holds- and that’s each of you. Thank you for being you, for loving me, listening to me, and welcoming me back so warmly.

They say pictures speak a thousand words, and right now I couldn’t agree more. So here’s a quick snapshot of what the weeks looked like for me. 

my family, and mickey mouse.

cousins, loves. 

sisters

friends

friends, more than friends... family. 

there's a lot to love in this picture

I forced my family to eat Indian food with me... with their hands. 

I miss you already, so much.  And I wish there was a profound way of ending this making it positive, but the truth is that it just hurts me a bit to leave…. and I think that’s okay.

Prayer requests:

-I am still currently short about $650 a month to be able to meet my financial needs as a missionary.

-Adjustment. No longer am I student, I’m a staff- a leader, a teacher and that will take some adjusting to. Can you pray for me to have wisdom in this transitioning time?

- And last, but not least please pray for me to be settled and readjusted back into Western culture. I'm still working on that. 

If you have prayer request please write me and let me know. I pray for you!

buzzz buzzz bite!

It started out at a persistent ticking in the back of my head. “Not a normal headache,” I thought to myself, “but perhaps I’m on the way to a migraine.” I had stuff to get done though so I couldn’t be bothered by the pain. I continued on with my day ignoring the aches growing in my body. I tried to enjoy lunch, got some errands done, and then eventually found myself abnormally exhausted and in desperate need of a nap. I hopped on the back of the local transportation; a motorcycle I shared with two other people called a “boda-boda” and made my way home. As I crawled into my bed, the suspension of something worse than a migraine came rearing into my head. And it wasn’t just my head now. I felt hot and cold, sore and achy. My fever spiked up and it wasn’t long before I went into intense shivering as my body tried to break the 104 degree temperature that appeared almost out of nowhere.

It was the night before I left Africa and boarded a plane for Australia.

Malaria.

That’s was the obvious answer, but one I was unwilling to accept. I imagined being left behind because of my symptoms as my team boarded a plane. So I prayed and when I physically couldn’t pray anymore my team prayed for me. The night was miserable, maybe one of the worst physical discomforts I’ve ever experienced and all I could do was try and sleep and get through the evening. My hope being that when the morning broke through so would my fever.

When I did wake in the morning I felt some relief from the night before, but I wasn’t up for the 20 plus hour journey on an airplane that was before me.  I also wasn’t up for staying behind. So vomit bag in hand, I hopped on a bus and made the 4 hour trek to the airport and somehow managed to board the plane and land in Dubai.  I headed straight for the medical clinic in the Dubai airport and practically begged them to give me an IV for some fluid that I knew I was in need of. I had a rest in the hospital bed at the airport (yeah- who knew they had those) and I appreciated it beyond measure. Looking back now I recognize that I technically shouldn’t have been allowed on the next plane, not in the condition I was in, but I can’t say I am not grateful that I snuck past the cheerful faces of the flight attendants.

When I finally arrived in Australia I began to feel a bit better. I had some good days and bad days but I never took myself to be tested. I was ignorant and didn’t heed the obvious warning signs that my body was practically screaming at me. I had malaria, and even though all my symptoms pointed to it, I chose to ignore them and blame it on an odd feeling or intense reaction to jetlag. To my defense, it didn’t help that the symptoms came and went (something I later learned is common with faliciparum malaria)

 Besides the fact that I was plagued with the poison of a mosquito bite, adjusting to life out of Africa and back into Australia was strange and beautiful all at the same time. Being back in the Western world was as shocking as expected. People appeared unhappy and almost gave off a grey color, but then again it is winter in Australia so maybe I’m being too harsh. I missed Africa desperately the whole time. But as the days passed I began to appreciate what I have in Australia as well. As a team we debriefed our year together. We laughed, we cried, we told stories, and we tried to make sense of the fact that this was the last time we would ever be together as a whole team. 

As we said our goodbyes-me and two of my best friends from my team closed our time out together with a trip to Brisbane, a city on the opposite side from Perth. Our first day in Brisbane was great.  It just took two days though before the symptoms that afflicted me previously began to flare up again. I found myself checking my friend into the hospital and then joining her the next day for the same thing: MALARIA.

I was supposed to catch a flight home but was held back- by 4 days, which felt like an eternity after being away from home for a year. But I survived.  And all thanks goes out to everyone who prayed, without ceasing,  for my well-being. Another reminder that I am not in this alone. I have support. People who pray and care and invest into my life helps me recover from mishaps like these.

What did I learn from all this?

Well first of all- malaria is the pits. One of the most uncomfortable and painful things I could have gone through.

-My parents are incredibly strong, patient, and constructive. Again, I don’t have children but I can imagine what its like to hear that your child is FAR away and suffering and there’s not much that can be done about it. But my parents persevered, prayed, and relied on Christ to continue to care for me. We can all learn something from that, can’t we?

I feel like I must add in that my flight delays and changes were not without cost. Obviously, as a missionary who doesn’t get paid for my work, the expenses were beyond my ability to provide- so my parents did. And whether it was beyond their ability to provide for will go without my knowledge, because they did what they needed to do for their child. What incredible parents I have!

-God is still good! Even though I wanted to go home. Even though I was already in emotional pain about leaving my team and ending this leg of my journey, even though the last thing I needed was a medical bill and a headache from the infernal regions- I can still say, without a shadow of doubt- that God is a good, loving, and gentle Papa. He took care of me. And He will continue to take care of me as I continue to serve Him.

-Last thing I learned is I shall never again grow weary of taking my malaria prophylaxis.  This lesson learned also comes with an apology and confession to you. After 5 ½ months of NOT getting malaria, I grew lackadaisical with my malaria medication. And we have all seen what happens when you do that.  I know I need to be safe and healthy and I have learned the hard way that when we grow lazy and ignorant (and act like it could never happen to us) we put ourselves in danger.

So there it is. My adventure, for lack of a better word, with malaria. May it be the last- and if it isn’t may I continue to have people like you, who obviously are incredible prayer warriors on my side.

God Bless you all.