iheartliberia

So what now?...

2008-01-20T22:40:00.000-05:00

Hello friends and family,

The more time I spend away from here the uglier New Jersey seems every time I get home. The sky is grey and dull more often than not this time of year, and this winter weather is far too cold for me. But in spite of these things, the longer I'm away the more amazing I realize these people are each time I return home. And that's something that scenery and weather can't touch. Looks like I'm going to hang around home for awhile. A couple months at least.

Still hoping to enter into medical missions/charity work long term starting next year...Don't think I've ever felt so certain about any future plans in my twenty five years. The pastor and his wife from my family's church, Bob and Julie, have been so kind to offer to help me discerning these plans. I am blown away by their enthusiasm - they seem just as excited as I do!

My goals for this year are to somehow give back locally, to work & replenish my depleted savings account, to spend time with my incredible family and friends and maybe do some more traveling within the US. Will keep you posted as all of these plans unravel.

The past two weeks I've been working on becoming registered with a local nursing agency. The last of these details was complete on Friday afternoon, and they will now place me in a temporary position at a local hospital for a few months. So it's like travel nursing, minus the travel part. I guess that makes me a freelancer. That word sounds really grown up...And considering that I didn't even know what it meant until last year I'm surprised they're letting me do it. :) I hope to be working by the beginning of February.

In the meantime, I had a couple plane ticket vouchers that were about to expire. I think most of you would agree that it would be a crying shame to let such a thing happen... So, this morning I flew to West Palm Beach, Florida to stay with my dear friend Becky. Becky asked me to be in her wedding this June, and I've met her fiancee a total of two times, so I think it's about time I stop in for a while. And anyway, the beaches down there aren't so bad. ;) Thursday I will leave West Palm for Phoenix, Arizona, where I will also be visiting with friends and my old roommates for about a week. That Sunday, the 27th, I will be presenting my Africa experience at two churches in Phoenix: in the morning to my friend Ashley's 3rd to 8th grade Sunday school class, and in the evening to the church I attended last Spring when I was living in Phoenix on a travel assignment. [Insert shoutout to the the friends who provided me with the airline vouchers in the first place and made this trip possible here:]

My DVD presentation of Africa is now complete. [Insert shout out to Ben Canales, the master of DVD creation here:] Although I've done some speaking engagements a few times recently, this will be my first time sharing my comprehensive Africa experience. It should be the first of a few, as I hope to share at Hope Chapel, Elevate, Circle of Hope and maybe a few other churches in the next few months.

If you are someone who prays, can I ask you to pray for me as I begin to formally share Africa with America? My six months was such a multi-faceted experience that I sometimes don't know where to begin when explaining it. & I the idea of public speaking makes me squirm a little. But bringing all of this home is a very important part of the process...It must be done. So yeah, if you could just pray for my presentation, that God would give me the words to share with people the things that He is doing and allowed me to be a part of in Africa, that would be amazing. Other things I'm praying about are direction for next year and this year, too. I am not sure whether to sell my car right away or wait until just before I'm leaving...Either plan has its own set of potential risks and benefits. So, in summary, the things I need prayer for are presenting my trip, direction in future planning and also for selling my car.

Please continue to let me know of any way that I can be praying for you.

Sooooo, friends/family in Jersey/PA, I'll see you again in a couple of weeks. Friends in Arizona, I'll be around this Thursday to Wednesday-ish, and I hope to see each of you.

Much Love,

Lindsay

The journey comes to an end...

2007-12-23T23:12:00.000-05:00

Hello from New Jersey!

So I've been home in New Jersey for over two weeks now and the time has flown by. It's been so so good to be home.

The end of our time in Liberia was really good. We spent time reflecting as a community on the progress that was made through our six month outreach - from clean water wells to new buildings for schools and clinics to argricultural teaching to women's empowerment to HIV and community health teaching...All this was in addition to our work in the hospital on the ship. Then there was all the ministering done in the local orphanages, prisons, churches and schools. And I'm sure there are things I left out. It was sad to leave my kids at the orphanage. But we did see progress as they grew throughout our time with them, and it was beautiful. Friends of mine, Ilne and Carl, will be returning in February to build a new home for the kids and live with them for awhile. I am so happy about this.

I cannot thank you enough for the way that everyone supported me throughout my time in Africa...

For those of you who read my stories, awareness is the first step in making any difference in this world. Thank you.

For those of you who wrote, you enabled me to stay connected and very often encouraged me with your words. Thank you.

For those of you who supported me financially, it would have been impossible to have spent the last three months in Africa without you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

For those of you who prayed, the fact that I have been able to maintain any form of sanity in the midst of all this transition is something I attribute to your prayers and God's faithfulness! Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

And for those of you who continue to welcome me back home with open arms in spite of the fact that I keep leaving you, your hospitality means the world to me. So I thank you.

Everyone has been asking me about the transition from a place as underdeveloped as Liberia to a place as commercialized as America. I am finding myself enamored with things that seemed so simple before, like yankee candles, the postal system, the ability to get in my car and drive wherever I want to go. I feel frustrated with the abundance of material things that I possess but probably don't need and don't quite know what to do with [not to mention the abundance of newer cooler things I'll probably purchase in the future]. I spent a total of about thirty minutes in the mall before Christmas and that was enough!

What next? I feel that my work with the poor has only just begun. I am thinking of doing a six month long Discipleship Training School at YWAM's (youth with a mission - an organization affiliated with Mercy Ships) medical base in Australia in January, 2009. This is an entry way into longer term missions work. From there maybe I'll go back with Mercy Ships, maybe back to Liberia, or maybe somewhere altogether different...I'm not sure yet. So that leaves me with one year inbetween to save money and begin fundraising, to spend time with my family and friends, and to see more of our own beautiful country. Your continued prayers are appreciated as I make decisions regarding the near future (JOB:) and the next few years.

I hope that you had a very merry Christmas and that tomorrow will be the start of an amazing 2008! Please continue to let me know if there is any way I can pray for you.

"Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace, goodwill toward men!" [Luke 2:14, the Bible]

Much Love,

Lindsay

Last glimpse at Liberia

Last visit to the tailor

Last Tuesday with the girls

Sad to leave these faces...

Sailing = beautiful sunsets

I see land!

Beautiful view of Grand Canaria.

"Drydock" = the ship was lifted OUT of the water while we ate lunch ONBOARD! Look close...No water!

Africa...I lost count :)

2007-11-30T06:57:00.000-05:00

Hello again from Liberia!

The Sail & Such...

We are sailing today, in two hours!!! I just realized that if I didn't write you now the rocking of the boat may prevent me from looking at the computer for the next week, so here goes...

So, yes, I will be back in the old US of A December 13th! It will be so good. It's amazing to see no places but there is still no place like home. My plans as of today are to spend the holidays with my family and then hopefully take a travel nursing contract somewhere in the US, (preferably somewhere where the compensation is best & not having to shovel snow this winter would definitely be a plus:) for a couple of months to prepare to do more charity work in the future. I am prayerfully considering coming back to Liberia but am not certain yet.

Today we are setting sail towards the Canary Islands off the coast of Spain where the ship will be "drydocked," and have it's annual maintenance performed through January. I prayed long and hard about exactly when to come home, and it just seemed right to stay through the sail. It allowed me to finish the entire outreach here and to spend more time with my kids at the orphanage up until the bitter end. And because Teneriffe is a much higher traffic tourist destination than Liberia (what isn't, really??), my flight home from there was much much cheaper, so it just made sense.

It’s funny, when I vacationed on a cruise ship I never saw any implications of the hard work that goes into sailing, probably for the same reasons that Mickey Mouse gets changed in an underground dressing room in the Magic Kingdom. Well I can assure you that this is no Disney World. The ship has been bustling with men in hard hats and abandoning ship drills [even one in the middle of the night!] and stowaway searches for the past few weeks. Should we end up with a stowaway, not only will we have to turn around and return him but we’ll be fined $10,000. Lots of ships, especially in Asia and India, throw stowaways overboard to get out of this! Somehow I don’t think that’s really our style on the Mercy Ship. The Africa Mercy was originally designed not to be a cruiseliner transporting people [before being converted into a hospital ship], but to be a ferry to transport cars. There are no guarantees of a smooth sail! Everybody has been working hard all week to tie down all the heavy objects in preparation. Everything from the trash cans to the soda machine to the photocopier have ropes or chains or bungees around them. Will try to keep you posted on the sail.

The Orphanage.

Thank you for the prayers you offered up about my meeting with Amelia. Our time together was better than I expected. In theory, Amelia seemed to share many of my beliefs about disciplining in love, more so than I expected. We came up with a plan of action so that discipline can be consistent between all the caretakers and children. Now we can only pray that this plan can become a reality. This place is so broken.

A few weeks ago we had an amazing Tuesday afternoon with the girls at the orphanage. Rachel asked the girls to share what they've been learning on Tuesday afternoons. There are times when I have wondered whether they can even understand what we're saying with the language barrier, much less if they are really listening or internalizing what they hear. But their responses blew us away. All ten of them said something different - and they brought up things we'd taught them months ago! They all recited, in unison, two Bible verses that we'd memorized together back in September. I was recently reminded by a dear friend to be prepared that we don't always sew and reap in the same season, and honestly, I was okay with that. I was prepared to give my all to these girls and leave without ever truly knowing whether or not I had made a difference. But God allowed us to see the fruits of our labor, and how amazing it was!

[My beautiful girls...]

Wednesday was my last visit to the orphanage. We've been preparing the orphans for our departure all along, but that doesn't mean it will be easy on them. I am praying for a smooth transition for them, and that their strength will be found in God not in looking to us. So easy for me to say, I know. They sent me off with an amazing prayer. There were a lot of tears. Somehow God gave me the grace to hold back my own until the kids were out of sight!

The good news is that there is a couple named Ilne and Carl who have been working with the orphanage for awhile also, and plan to come back to Liberia in February to live on the land with the people and to build a new home for the children at the orphanage. Their current building is structurally sound but overcrowded, and most of the yard is used as sewage. The new orphanage will be in the bush, the rural outskirts of Monrovia. There will be endless room for the kids to run and play. The kids’ eyes light up when we talk about their new home, and when some of the boys went to see the property they just laid in the grass. The plan is to build a cluster of five smaller homes around a courtyard area. The hope is to staff each home with a “parent” or set of parents, creating a family dynamic. We are praying for God to provide staff who will raise the children in love. Take a look at Carl and Ilne’s website. They are clearly faithful and brave people, and I have learned so much serving alongside them.

In the Hospital.

Gorpue was transferred to a Mercy Ships clinic in Sierra Leone, which is one country north of us, where she had another surgery done for the leaking and will hopefully have her colostomy reversed soon. She is very well!

[Good times with Gropue!]

We finished up the outreach with a lot of minor surgeries in the past few weeks. We can't do anything too major at the end because we needed to anticipate discharging all the patients before sailing. We are not able to take patients with us. So we saw a lot of patients with smaller surgical needs. Things went pretty smoothly, and it was so good to see them go home in a better condition than they came. Of course we do not see the final product, as it takes months for swelling to go down, but we do see progress in the patients' physical appearance.

Marthlyn came back in for her third and final surgery, a minor revision. She was so brave to arrive with a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye. Knowing what she went through in her last stay here I would've thought she'd run for the hills at the sight of the ship. "You are a strong African girl," we told her over and over, I think that's a token phrase here. It put a smile on Marthlyn's face. She still is not speaking to us, although her mom tells us that she does speak when no one is around. These things take time, and we hope for more progress as her wounds heal. Another token African phrase that we hear all the time is "take time," which can mean anything from slow down to wait a minute to it will take a while to "look out - you're about to step in that massive pothole!"

[Marthlyn before]
[After second surgery]
[Returning to the ship for her third surgery - with a smile!]

So we closed up the hospital last week, which means all of the nurses have been promoted to full time cleaning ladies! We are breaking down the ENTIRE hospital to prepare for sailing. This means wiping down each and every peice of equipment, furniture, the walls, ceiling, and floors with soap then bleach, taking apart and stacking all 60+ beds, and locking/tying up each and every peice of equipment and supplies to prevent it from falling all over the place and breaking while we sail. I must say that I had NO idea of the hard work that went into creating our hospital until I became a part of tearing it down myself. But we all worked together. It was actually nice to be able to just relax with my co-workers, turn up the music as we cleaned, and not have to worry about translating any liberian english for a little while! Next week I will officially join the housekeeping department which is where I'll work for the rest of my time on the ship.

[Promoted!]

[All work & no play of course :0]

It was recently decided that the ship will return to Liberia next year for another outreach here rather than going to another country, which means that Marthlyn can hopefully return for more follow up as she grows and her face grows and therefore might need some tweaking. The plan is to do more work in the community this time, particularly with local hospitals, as well as continuing with our work in the hospital and many other outreach programs onboard. I don't exactly know the ins and outs of what will happen here. Still praying about that. Here is a quote about the vision for next year from the Founder of Mercy Ships, Don Stephens. "Part of Mercy Ships goal in returning again would be to strongly support momentum for Liberia's national health policy and increase capacity for medical care by using the Africa Mercy as a platform for medical education and mentoring in administration/management infrastructure."

Roadtrip!

A few weekends ago I took a trip to a hospital a couple hours inland with the ship's biomedical team, who was requested to come out for a weekend to work on their broken medical equipment. The local hospitals are understaffed, undersupplied, and undereducated. We saw some things that were appalling to westernized medical workers, but that's just where Liberia is at right now. We were hosted by John, a Lutheran Reverend from America, who works as the administrator at the hospital. John was the only non-African person in the hospital, in his community, and in his church. Wow. He seemed quite happy to be in the company of seven westerners for a little while. His life is a very humble one, and made our lives on the ship look like vacationing in a five star resort. But he seemed at peace with his situation. We all marveled at his strength, and had many questions for him about his day to day life. He told us that he feels alone but not lonely. When the work was complete, there was an amazing waterfall in his town that we had the opportunity to venture out to and climb to the top of. Of course nothing that happens in Liberia seems to go off without a hitch. Because of some unexpected car troubles, our SUV had to be pushed on almost ten occasions on the way home. We all pitched in, even the girls. I guess we weren't helping too much - after awhile the guys told us just to wait in the car while they pushed! But once again, we returned home to the ship in one piece. Exhausted, but safe and sound. [Pictures are on the link to the right...]

And one more thing, a verse from the Bible that spoke to me this week. Although we are all working hard in the here and now it keeps things in perspective to remember that there is so much more to this life than the things we see in front of us.

"Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will by no mean pass away." [Luke 21:33]

It's starting to feel bumpy...I think we'll be moving soon! I thank you again for your support, love and prayers. Your words mean so much, especially when I am so far from home.

Much love,

Lindsay

#10. [More Pics - Hooray!]

2007-10-26T08:23:00.000-04:00

Dearest family and friends,

Hello again from lovely Liberia. I hope that this letter finds you doing well and enjoying the crisp autumn air, to those in the northeast. Thank you for continuing to be a part of my African adventure. I so enjoy knowing what's going on in your worlds, too. Keep the emails coming. Okay, about Africa...

Marthlyn...

Marthlyn's second surgery was successful, and her lips look much more like you would expect lips to look. After her trach and NG tube came out, she was able to go home last week! She was "bluffing" [Liberian term for when someone knows they look good:], peeking into her handheld mirror every few minutes at her new nose and mouth. She will return in November for one more minor surgery before her work is complete.

Roadtrip...

Last weekend a bunch of us took an overnight roadtrip to a town called Robertsport, a beachtown north of Monrovia. By day we made the most of the clear ocean water, by night we abandoned our tents to sleep on the sand beneath the starry sky. It was a peaceful and much needed getaway.

When our cab driver arrived to take us back to the ship, he was accompanied by two other men, a monkey, and three chickens. Between our backpacks and all of us, how in the world would these creatures squeeze into the taxi?? But apparently there's always room for more here. The chickens were placed in a plastic bag in the corner of the back of the station wagon surrounded by our backpacks on either side, and the two men clung onto the luggage rack that the monkey was chained to ON TOP of the car for the entire three and a half hour trek back to Monrovia. [WHAAAT?] And we weren't going slow either. No, there were points in the journey where we were going over 100km/hr [60 ish miles/hr]. We were quite relieved to find that everyone was still with us when we arrived back at the ship, safe and sound. Oh, the things that happen in Liberia...

[For more pics, see the link on the right...]

The Orphanage...

Over the past four months, my visits to the orphanage have changed from something I felt like I SHOULD do to something that I can't wait to do again. Apparently the kids look forward to it, too. They wait for us with their heads peeking out the front gate. They so crave one on one attention. And giving them that is incredibly rewarding. Every visit brings so much joy.

But like most things we do here, the joy comes with challenges. The more the kids trust us, the more they open up.

“Massa stole money from your purse last week.”

“My brothers don’t come to visit anymore.”

“The caretaker said that I’ll get beat when you leave.”

“Sometimes they beat us until we are swollen.”

“Do they beat kids in America?”

“Can you give us money?”

We are not equipped to be social workers, mothers, teachers, or psychiatrists. But God continues to lead they way and somehow gives us the words we need every time.

It is important for us to invest into the lives of the caretakers, the ones who dictate the pace of life in the orphanage day in and day out. Amelia is the one in charge. We have seen her soften up over the past months. She has become my friend. Tonight I will go out for dinner with Amelia. As the caretaker for 44 children, she deserves a night out. I want to talk to her about the discipline at the orphanage, and alternatives to beating the children. What place do I, as a single person with no children, have to tell an experienced caretaker and mother how to take care of the children? None, really. But I am sure that this is something I need to do. We have only five weeks until the ship sails away and the caretakers are all the kids have once again.

It’s confusing, the fact that the orphanage is called “God’s Home,” yet the kids are treated so poorly. Someone told me that although Christianity is wide in West Africa, it’s not deep. There are phrases about God everywhere, written on taxis and buildings. One of the common responses when you ask someone how they are doing is “I thank God.” Everyone goes to church. [Well, except for the Muslims, that is.] They worship in song so passionately. Yet corruption is epidemic. Violence is a way of life. Moral standards are appallingly low.

So what’s the problem? Perhaps Christianity is a set of rituals or a part of the culture, rather than an intentional relationship with a living God. Maybe it's the fact that all believers fall short of the Holy life God has called us to - the Liberians' shortcomings just appear more evident because they are different shortcomings than those usually displayed in my own culture. Or maybe it’s because the practices of animism, idol worship, witch craft are entangled into their beliefs. People are desperate. Often they’ll turn to anything. Considering their bleak circumstances, I can’t say that I blame them. But allowing these other beliefs in contradicts the base of Christianity – the precept that Jesus is the one and only God.

I’m certainly not claiming to have the answers to Liberia's moral problems after being here only a few months, just brainstorming really. Regardless of what the root of the problem is, it is our hope that the orphanage will meet up to it’s name, that it will truly feel like God’s home and that the kids will know that they are loved each and every day.

Your prayers for my meeting with Amelia today and the remainder of our time here at the orphanage are greatly appreciated. Please let me know if there is anything I can pray about for you.

“Wherever you are – be all there.” - Jim Elliot

Much Love,

Lindsay

#9. [With Pictures!]

2007-10-12T12:28:00.000-04:00

Hello from Liberia :)

So you give me money and I quit writing. What's that all about? Sorry-o. [African for sorry:] I can't believe it's been a whole month. The longer I'm here the harder it is to keep the communication lines open with everyone at home. We're in...different worlds.

I set up a blog site with my old emails and the corresponding pictures so that you can have a better idea of what it's like over here. Check out the archives for some of the best pictures of Liberia. And Brussels, too.

Alright, here goes...

9.26.2007

About the birthday messages - woah. I thought I had signed into somebody else's gmail account when I saw all the unread mail! And amazing how everyone somehow knew it was my birthday! [Kidding...I know, a little birdie told you, right?] Not sure if you're interested in hearing every detail of the day, but, well, you know where to find the scroll button... I was fortunate to have the day off. It started with balloon animals hanging in my cabin, a scavenger hunt, a perfect day at the beach, and then there was a lovely dinner at a lebanese restaurant. Apparently the Lebanese entrepeneurs are taking over the Liberian economy. Well, that's a story for another day. But they make really good food. Ever try moutaball? Well, you should. It's like hummus except instead of chickpeas it's made with eggplant. And it's amazing. The night ended on the dock, eating cake and listening as my friends strummed their guitars beneath the starry sky. It seems that all of you AND everyone here made a massive effort to make my birthday away from home extra special. I felt really ridiculously loved. So, thanks. I'm twenty five and happy to be alive. :)

9.30.2007

The number of roommates who have shared this six birth cabin with since I arrived here four months ago: thirteen. The majority of volunteers just come for a few months. Sometimes the turnover is overwhelming. Sometimes I am sad to see friends go and it takes a little while to have the energy to invest in yet another new person. But for the most part, I am thankful for every person here. I have learned a thing or two that will stay with me for a long time from each one of my cabin mates – from the adorable asian girl who carried an umbrella even on sunny days to preserve her skin, to the retired southern belle who talked from the minute she walked in the door until she fell asleep [thank God for my iPod], to the dentist who brushes her teeth for at least seven minutes a pop [way to practice what you preach, sister!]. The quirks you learn about people when you live with them can be funny. We laugh a lot here. Four months. Thirteen girls. No drama. Kind of hard to believe. I guess you don't come to Africa if you're very high maintenance. This is an amazing place.

[The first bunch of roommates.]

10.7.2007

Marthlyn is a twelve year old girl who we've been caring for in the hospital. She came down with an awful disease called Noma when she was two. Noma is caused by malnutrition and a poor immune system, and can eat away the bones of a child's face within days. Marthlyn came to us with a hole in her face where her top lip and nose used to be. Two weeks ago, Marthlyn underwent major reconstructive surgery in which one of her ribs was used to recreate a nose. Her new upper lip is sutured closed to her lower lip, and until the next reconstructive surgery will be done in a few more weeks she relies on the tracheostomy tube inserted through her neck into her airway to breathe. Tracheostomies are awful, especially in the beginning phases. Taking care of a trach patient usually is a challenge, but this is the worst case I've seen. Marthlyn has gotten minimal sleep for the past two weeks. Saying that she is overtired and uncomfortable is a vast understatement. We have to put a suction tube down Marthlyn's throat every couple of hours to clear her airway. [If you're thinking this sounds barbaric, I agree. Sometimes I wonder what I was thinking with this whole career in Western Medicine!] The past few shifts caring for Marthlyn have been brutal trying to provide the care she needs against her own wishes. She kicked one of the nurses. She begs us, with tears streaming down her face, to leave her alone. But a trach left alone is a pnemonia waiting to happen, or worse, the risk of an obstructed airway [ie- suffocation]. Unfortunately, this is not an easy concept for a twelve year old girl to grasp.

I was eagerly anticipating my days off at the end of six grueling shifts and the start of a sinus infection. But when Thursday night arrived, I found a note from my boss on my cabin door.

"We need you to come to work tonight. Sorry and thanks."

I thought about throwing the note into the ocean and pretending that I never saw it. But when you live on the same boat as your boss that's really not an option. :) So, I went to work.

I knew this would be a much better night when, at the beginning of my shift, I saw Marthlyn smile for the first time. Her smile doesn't look like yours or mine, but considering that weeks ago she didn't have a lip or a nose, the fact that she can smile is amazing. And her appearance will improve with more surgery. By midnight, Marthlyn was feeling better than she had in weeks. While the rest of the ward was sleeping, she got out of her bed and started dancing. Woah. This was quite a surprise to anyone who had seen Marthlyn the weeks before. We have been feeding her through a tube in her nose. Marthlyn was finally ready for something to drink. There is just enough room at the corners of her sutured lips to fit a straw. For the first time in her whole life, Marthlyn was able to drink juice through a straw. She smiled. I smiled. We hugged. Her Mom's face was glowing. We took pictures. And the dancing continued. Marthlyn taught me and another nurse some of her African moves, and we taught her the chicken dance. When the dancing came to an end and the juice was gone, Marthlyn crawled into bed and slept like a baby through the whole night. Finally.

Yes, there will still be rough times for Marthlyn, and there will still be tears I'm sure. But to share with her such a remarkable night, when she was able to see a ray of hope in her dark situation, it was just amazing. These are the moments that keep us all going. I never thought I'd be happy to work voluntary overtime...

10.12.2007

UPDATES

Finances...

I remain in awe of the financial support I received last month. Thank you, thank you, thank you again. The budget that I presented to all of you was about half of my actual budget when you include bills at home. I knew I was cutting it really close which meant the possibility of going into the red and also that I would probably need to start working again as soon as my feet hit American soil, which meant missing the holidays with my family. But, there was one donor who sent the entire $1500 (What???) even after I told him my goal was just about met, to be used for any needs - bills at home, donating here, whatever it may be. What a huuuuge blessing. I thank God for anticipating all of my needs yet again. Some down time to catch up with family and friends and attempt to reintegrate into American culture will be so good before moving onto the next thing. And when I have an idea what the next thing is, I'll be sure to let you know. Right now it changes about every ten minutes. There's so much to do out there...

At the Orphanage...

It's really ironic, public speaking is so not my thing, but I could not ask for a more graceful audience than the kids at the orphanage. They are just happy that someone is speaking to them. So as they get to learn new things I get to iron out my public speaking, and we all benefit in the long run. This month I have had opportunities to speak to the girls on two of our tuesday afternoons and to the whole group last Saturday morning.

We talked about Heaven: how to get there and what we think it will be like. Considering their bleak circumstances, I think it is really good for them to focus on hope beyond this life. They drew pictures of things they hope will be in Heaven. The colored pencils and paper we bring are a luxury to them. They get so excited. One of the older girls, Naomi, was afraid to draw. It's not something they are used to doing. We encouraged her and eventually she had a couple of flowers on her paper. They don't get much encouragement here. We dote all over them hoping to compensate.

More recently I went into depth about their bodies and about the birds and the bees. Add that to the list of things I never thought I'd do in life! Thier eyes grew huge as we showed them a diagram of the female anatomy. The most basic educational material that we grew tired of learning from in our school years is like gold to them.

Last saturday I talked to all the kids about the passage in the book of Matthew that tells us that if we are Christians we are the light of the world. I used a flashlight and a box and gave them examples of what it means to let our light shine (sharing, comforting each other) and what it means to hide our light (fighting, stealing, lying). I can remember some visual demonstrations like this from Bible school when I was young that have stayed with me all these years. If just one of our lessons makes a difference in the heart of one of these children, it will all be worthwhile.

In the Hospital...

[Hooray for good news this time:]

I received good news about Baby's situation. Turns out the woman who kicked her out last time was just a friend she was staying with in Liberia between visits to the Ship. Her actual home is hours away. She felt pretty sure that she'd be welcome there and was happy to go home. She was discharged a couple of weeks ago and has not been back, so that's a good sign that things are probably going alright!

Gorpue took a major turn for the best. Days after I sent out my last email, I was stunned to turn around and see her out of bed, walking down the hall! The wound that many of us feared she would not recover from is actually healing up with no further intervention. She is getting healthier every day. I don't doubt that the prayers have been a major factor in all of this.

Last Tuesday one of our cleft lip repair babies stopped breathing. I never saw a code on a baby before. It was awful. The good news is that six month old Joanna was resuscitated, came off of the ventolator in only a couple of days, and is doing much better. It looks like she might have a defect in her heart from birth. This may cause her more trouble later in life, and it is not something that we have the resources to diagnose or treat. But right now she is very well.

To all of you who are praying, I thank you. I don't doubt that God hears your prayers. You can continue to pray for all of our patients: for successful surgeries, healthy recoveries, acceptance back into their communities, and an understanding of God's love for them through their time here. Also, please pray for growth in Liberia in general, and that the work we are doing in local hospitals, churches, orphanages, businesses and the community would not create a dependence on relief, but empower Liberia long after the ship sets sail in November.

"Go to the people,
Live among them,
Learn from them.
Start with what they know.
Build on what they have:
But of the best of leaders;
When their task is accomplished,
Their work is done,
The people all remark,
'We have done it ourselves.' "
[Old Chinese Poem]

May you be blessed wherever you are today.

Much Love,

Lindsay

#8. And the verdict is...

2007-09-11T00:47:00.000-04:00

Hello Friends,

I am happy to tell you that my fundraising goal has been exceeded! It looks like I'll be staying in Liberia through November. I feel ultra blessed.

I so appreciate your prayers as I continue to find my place in all of this...whether it is a "for now" thing or something more long term...

"So I say to you, ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you." [Luke 11:9]

Much Love,

Lindsay

#7. The one where I ask for help.

2007-09-10T00:50:00.000-04:00

Hello again, from Liberia :)

Today is one week until my flight out of Africa departs.

Friday afternoon my boss approached me to ask if I'd consider staying longer. A nurse just left early because of a family emergency, leaving the ward one nurse short through November.
I am feeling more comfortable and therefore more effective here with each passing day. I love Liberia. (Most days.) There is so much joy in giving back. I finally know all the girls at the orphanage by name, even when they change their braids. Rainy season is fiiiiinally coming to an end and the sun is shining bright. I am learning about so many things here. Poverty. Music. Ethical Dilemnas. People. Global Medicine. Culture. Serving. Liberian English. Faith. Community. Resourcefulness. Why wouldn't I stay longer?

Oh wait. I miss home. I can almost taste a home cooked meal just thinking about it. I was pretty stoked about the thought of heading to the jersey shore with my girlfriends only two weekends from now. My sister has a book signing at the end of the month. [Sidebar: Danielle was published! http://www.powells.com/biblio?isbn=9780738550497] And I could really use a trip to the clearance rack at Urban Outfitters. But these are things I can look past a while longer. The clincher is the thing that unfortunately dictates way too many of our decisions all the time. Money. Mine is running out. And it's not exactly free to be here. Plus, there are bills at home.

[I hate this part.] I am wondering if anyone would be interested in financially supporting my work here, or knows of any other possible resources I could look into. Please know that I will not think you love me any less if you are not interested in giving or if you are not in a place to give. I know making ends meet is not always easy. Life is expensive. But I looked at the numbers and determined that extending my commitment in Liberia will only be possible with some assistance. [Did I mention that I hate this part?] As much as I feel really awkward about asking, something tells me I might be doing you an injustice if I didn't give you an opportunity to be a part of this mission.

Here is a breakdown of my expenses for an extra two months:

Crew Fees (room & board) $1050
Health Insurance $150 ish
Flight Changing Fee $100 ish
Random Spending Money (Transportation, Food, Toiletries, etc.) $200 ish

So the grand total is about $1500. And that's a lot of money. I am putting the need out there and trusting that if I am meant to stay it will somehow be provided for. And if it is not, coming home as planned is fine, too.

Contributions can be made at https://secure.mercyships.org/webinfo/US/staffgiving?staff_data=2266~Lindsay~Marie~Burrows

I am sorry to tell you that the IRS does not consider donations tax deductible for crew who are here less than two years. Also, donations don't become available to me until a couple weeks after they are made. So, if you are making a donation, could you just drop me an email and let me know so that I can plan accordingly? I must decide by Wednesday whether or not I can stay, and this decision will be based on funding.

In other news...

We took the older girls from the orphanage to the beach on Saturday for a picnic and a swim. They had NEVER been to the beach before. An amazing time was had by all. I am trying to attach a picture so that you can appreciate their adorable-ness with me. Our tuesday afternoons with them are going so well. Two weeks ago I talked to them about purity. They were receptive, and it went better than I expected.

Things are going pretty well in the hospital. Most of our patients who are now in the ward are recovering from eye surgeries, plastic surgeries on old burn injuries and maxillofacial surgeries for facial deformities and tumors. People who look different here for any reason are often outcasted from society. So we are not only healing their deformities but also giving them a chance to be accepted again.
The majority of our VVF ladies have been discharged from the ward. Before they leave we have a "dress ceremony" where they are given a new dress and we celebrate the healing of their bodies together in song. They thank God for what He has done for them. They thank us for being a part of it. It has been so amazing to rejoice with them! We only have six ladies here still recovering from their VVF surgeries. Can I ask you to pray for them? Gorpue is sixty years old, and her surgery did not go so well. She ended up with a colostomy and an awful wound. She has an infection. Not only is she is still leaking, but her prognosis does not look hopeful. I am sad that she came to the Mercy Ship expecting healing and ended up worse off than when she arrived. Unfortunately this is always a risk with surgery. Also, Baby is a patient who came in for her second VVF surgery. Her body is very damaged, and when the first surgery failed in June she was sent back to us. The woman who she was supposed to be staying with kicked her out. "Baby can only live here if her problem is fixed," she said. Unfortunately, she still has some leakage after her second surgery. Baby is 22 years old and has so much life inside of her. There is not much more we can do for her. She is healthy aside from her leaking. All of these ladies' desire is to return to their families. We pray that this will be an option for them. And if it is not, that God will make another way for them and provide them with the grace to cope along the way.

Yesterday we had a church service in the ward. The African workers lead us in worship, to the beat of the African drum, "I am an overcomer. I will never give up." I remain in awe of the hope in these broken people.

Much Love,

Lindsay

Africa....#6?

2007-08-17T00:30:00.000-04:00

Hello again from Liberia,

I hope you are enjoying the august sunshine wherever you are today. So it's been awhile. But I'm hoping to make up for it now. You might want to get cozy if you have a few minutes to spare. It's a long one. Here goes...

In the Hospital.

The hospital is bustling with recovering post-op patients. We are on our third round of VVF patients, and are also still doing orthopedics as well. In the next few weeks our maxillofacial surgeon will arrive, and we will be fixing cleft lip and palates and removing facial tumors from a horrible condition called Noma, which is caused by malnutrition. But for now, clubbed feet are being turned forward, lingering bullets are being removed, unhealed fractures are being repaired, and chronic leaking is being stopped. I spend most of my days at work caring for the VVF ladies, but occasionally am assigned to the orthopedic unit, which is filled primarily with children. This means that I get to hold adorable babies with casts on their legs - for my job! I can't complain.

Two of our VVF patients surprised us when they arrived a few weeks ago, ready to be admitted for surgery, with their babies on their backs. Baby James and Baby Junior were born just a few days apart in January of this year, but looking at them you would never know it. Baby James was a solid, healthy African boy, while baby Junior looked underfed and much younger than his age of seven months. He lacked the ability to hold up his head, and his eyes wandered in different directions. Both of the boys' prolonged deliveries were the cause of their mother's incontinence. Baby Junior's mom, twenty one year old Amelia, was very sick for the month after his birth, making her unable to breastfeed. Her body never caught up in milk production, so she was forced to supplement. But formula was out of the budget. Baby Junior was raised on a powdered product similar to coffee creamer with very little nutritional value.

I first cared for these two beautiful babies last Friday night. Baby James' mom cuddled him in her bed through the night and nursed him when he cried. Baby Junior's mom turned her back to him through the night and pretended not to hear when he cried. He laid in his dirty diapers until someone else intervened. A crying baby is not exactly ideal in a ward filled with twenty women recovering from surgery who are trying to sleep.

We brainstormed at the nurses' station. Why wouldn't Amelia care for her baby? Baby Junior is the reason Amelia leaks, the reason she was shunned from her society, the reason she nearly died. Is it possible that she resented him? Also, African mothers tend to keep more distance between themselves and their babies than western women do. They must protect their hearts. Infant mortality rates are horrendous in underdeveloped countries. Baby Junior was not well. And as a mother of three, Amelia knew it.

So we, the nursing staff, were forced to intervene. We asked Amelia to feed her baby. She would nod her head in agreement as she accepted the warm bottle, then put it down and go back to sleep the moment we walked away. She sighed and moaned and looked inconvenienced when we would hand her a diaper upon noticing that the junior's was soaked. "You take him," she would say. Finally, we told Amelia she must feed her baby. She was far enough out of surgery to look after for his needs. And we weren't going to be there to take care of Junior when they went home. The charge nurse created a feeding schedule. We picked up the crying baby and placed him in his mother's arms again and again until it became natural. We talked to Amelia about the importance of loving her baby in order for him to grow healthy. Eventually, something clicked.

Today has been a week since the first frustrating shift that I listened to baby Junior cry throughout the night. His formerly frail limbs are getting meaty, and he grown has a double chin! His eyes seem to focus perfectly now. And he is gradually holding up his own neck a little more each day. Apparently these abnormalities were symptoms of malnutrition.

Amelia smiles now, with good reason. She is no longer leaking and her son is becoming healthy. She asks for diapers when Junior's is dirty. She feeds him when it's time. She looks him in the eye. She kisses him. She holds her baby with no prompting at all.

I am awed at the difference one week made. I thank God that Junior has a mother who loves him and a body that is growing strong.

We pity our patients when we hear that many have three and four children before reaching the age of twenty. The irony? They pity us when they hear that we are in our twenties and don't have any babies! A couple of the ladies have told us they will pray that we can start having babies soon. I hope not too soon! It seems that bearing many children here is a sign of success for a woman, of pride for a man, and a promise of prosperity for the future of both parents, because with no social security checks coming to the elderly their descendants become their only source of income.

[This is baby James. You can see by the size of him that he is the one who was clearly well fed from the start. And, yes, I did intervene before he strangled himself with my stethoscope.]

[Adorable orthopedic patients]

[Bird's eye view of the pediatric ward]

Monrovia, Liberia.

This city is like nothing I have experienced before. I will share with you some of my the crazy details about going into town.

Hailing a cab means racing ahead of the herd of people around you to whichever cab pulls up, then piling in like sardines with complete strangers. The cabs are small cars – usually four door Nissan Sentra's or Toyota Corolla's, and they are older. There is no guarantee of handles on the doors or fabric on the seats, much less an intact exterior. By law, a cab can hold up to seven people. Seven people! That means two in the passenger seat and four in the back. Personal space is an irrelevant concept.

Going for a ride anywhere around here is pretty much synonymous for going off-roading. I remember feeling nervous in the beginning, but it's become just another part of the adventure. The dirt roads are plagued with enormous potholes which grow into ditches and overflow with mud this time of year. Mercy Ships has SUV's that we take into town, but the cabs are only cars. I have been pleasantly surprised that we've made it out of many massive puddles when in my head I was thinking that there was just no way. Only one time on the way to the beach did we get stuck in one. In less than a minute a few local men had run over to push and we were out of the water in no time.

Going out to eat means taking a risk of course, and waiting and waiting and waiting for your food. Time is a relative concept here, like in most warm climated cultures. At one restaurant the waiter said that our food would be five minutes and it actually took another hour! And I've heard much worse horror stories. There are a few restaurants that serve food for internationals rather than the typical Liberian cuisine. Some are on the beach, with palm trees! Again, I really can't complain. It is refreshing to get off the ship and of course to eat food that is a little bit closer to normal.

Going to the market means making your way through massive crowds until you find the item you are after, running from the vendors that harass you to buy their products if you should even glance at them too long, bartering like your life depends on it if you hope to get a reasonable price in spite of the fact that you are white, and doing your best to ignore the overly zealous local men all the while. It doesn't matter what your age or how long it's been since you've showered, if you are a white woman, you will be proposed to in the market. The way men approach women is a little different here. Last week I heard my favorite quote so far, "I am talking to you white woman. You speak to me now." Something tells me this kind of behavior wouldn't go over so well back home!

Sounds crazy here, I know. But it's amazing at the same time. I wouldn't trade my time in this place for the whole world if I could.

[A market downtown]

Life onboard the Africa Mercy.

Neighbors are co-workers. Co-workers are friends. Friends become family as we eat, sleep, and live under one roof (deck?). I am thankful to be a part of this community.

People come from all corners of the world to be here. English is not everyone's first language, but is the official language of the ship. This means I get to hear phrases like "I am plenty running in a hurry" and "that is rubbish!" on a regular basis. The Africans like to add the letter "o" to the end of any word, so terms like "sorry-o", "hi-o," and "thank you-o," are common as well. This boat is an incredible collision of languages, of cultures, of values, of passions. It is both entertaining and educational.

[Dutchies. Minus that one on the right.]

[Nurses and one med student from three continents who arrived on my flight.]

Everything we need is here on our air conditioned vessel: a laundromat, a dining hall, a library, a post office, a bank, a hospital, a hair salon, a convenient store with the bare ssentials, a modified Starbucks café, and a second hand "boutique" where one crewmember's trash becomes another crewmember's treasure. We are limited to one load of laundry a week and two minutes in the shower each day. The plumbing system works on good days. The internet connection is turtle speed. We watch movies gathered around the largest screened laptop computer we can find.

This might not sound too luxurious in comparison to American standards, but in comparison to what lies beyond the gates of our port we are actually living in a palace. So much so that I think our lofty accommodations create a barrier between us and the African people, as if there weren't enough differences already. They see us as being filthy rich. And in comparison, we are. It hinders relationships between us and the community.

There are days when I long to live outside the comforts of this boat. I want to sleep in a grass hut and carry buckets of water on my head. I want to connect with the Liberian people. But how much does a white girl from the South Jersey 'burbs reallly have to offer in such a place? Maybe one day...Who knows.

Collin Carroll.

I appreciate the many apologies I received about Collin's death. I should've clarified in my last email that although I was sad, I was holding up okay. There are over three hundred people living on board, and Collin was really an acquaintance to me. A few days before he passed away Collin overheard me say that I had never tried a mango before at lunch. Next thing I knew, a piece of his was lying on my plate. We were friendly but I don't remember ever having a full conversation with him.

There was a memorial service held for Collin on board two weeks ago. His co-worker shared about his dedication to the dental team here, and how Collin would arrive to work early to ensure the team was equipped to treat as many patients as possible. His friend Hilary spoke about how Collin shared with her his passion for spending Saturday mornings at a local orphanage. This was something she never thought she would do, but found herself hooked after going with Collin just one time. Collin's supervisor shared about how Collin had completed a five year pre-med degree in just three and a half years, not wasting any time or money. Because of his dedication to his studies, his father offered to send him anywhere in the world. Collin chose Africa.

I pray for God's grace for Collin's parents and two sisters, to uphold them through this tragic loss. I would be grateful if you would try to lift them up in your prayers as well.

Billy Joel had a valid point when he declared that "only the good die young." I wonder if people whose lives will end early somehow intrinsically know this fact deep inside of them. They usually seem to be the ones that live the hardest and love the most in their time here. I am sad to see another beautiful soul leave the earth so early. But there is peace to be found in knowing that Collin will live forever in Heaven. Not because he was in Liberia to serve, and not because he did more good deeds than bad over the span of his short life. The Bible tells us that no one of us could ever do enough good things to earn our way to heaven, because we are all sinful by nature. Jesus' sacrifice on the cross is the only payment worthy enough to get us there. Collin professed to believe that, and did his best to live accordingly. And that is why we can rest assured that he is in a better place now.

The Orphanage.

I would estimate that there are between thirty and forty kids at God's home orphanage down the road. The beauty in their faces outweighs the sight of their worn clothes and skinny bodies a million times. Their home leaves much to be desired. We do what we can to shed some light into their world for a couple of hours on Saturday mornings. We sing songs with them: fun songs, and songs about God. Someone tells a story from the Bible. We play games, color and read books. They like to touch our hair, which is a little different from theirs, and "plaid" (braid) it. We hug them, and hold the little ones. There are three toddlers who all jump into our laps the minute we arrive, and never fail to fall asleep there, regardless of how long its been since they slept last. They don't wear diapers, and often leave little puddles behind!

We have a club for the older girls on Tuesday afternoons. There are about ten of them: Maima, Jenne, Martha, Korlu, Marie, Bendu, Naomi and Patricia are the names I can remember. The captain's wife, Rachel, is our leader. Her goal is to reach the older kids in the orphanage, because whether or not they realize it, they are the role models that set the standards for all the kids. Rachel is a former teacher with a wealth of knowledge on relating to these kids. She comes up with activities that not only entertain them for a while, but also teach them how to take initiative and be productive using the little resources they have. Rachel, in all of her smoothness, somehow convinced the tailor down the road to save his scraps of fabric to give to the girls for free. She taught the girls to cut the fabric into very thin strands which they use to crochet into purses. The idea was brilliant and the bags are coming along so nicely. "Fine," is what the Africans would call them. They look at us like we're speaking Greek when we use the words "pretty," or "cute." Everything is "fine." If the bags look fine enough when they are complete, we are going to sell them on the ship to help the girls earn some money.

The orphanage is dark and dreary, especially in the girls' room. The walls are lined with triple decker bunk beds with bare mattresses - no pillows, no linens. There are small windows only at the tops of the walls, which allow enough sunlight in to keep the room dimly lit. The closet was filled with one large mound of clothes, which each girl rummages through to choose clothes from daily. There is no sense of personal ownership – everything belongs to everybody. On one hand it is captivating to see the sense of community cultivated amongst the girls. But on the other hand, experiencing ownership and individuality could be empowering for them.

Last week we gave the girls money to go to the market to buy hangers and told them we'd all clean out the closet together this week. When we arrived Tuesday we found the girls gathered around a closet which was already cleaned out with clothes hanging up. They had also hung the mosquito nets that Rachel had gotten them over each of their bunks. Although these are intended to be merely functional nets, they created a canopy effect over the beds, and they look pretty. We were proud of them for taking the initiative on their own and glad that they are learning to value the possessions that they do have.

At Church.

I hesitate to write this paragraph because it's another not so happy one. But I know it's only fair share the negative as well as the positive parts of my experience with you. Some people from the ship have been donating large amounts of money to Jamaica Road Church to be put towards basic upgrades on the building. We have money; they need money. Why not share it? In theory, this seems only logical. However, most mission organizations ban their volunteers from donating money to local organizations because of the issues that usually arise. Mercy Ships does not. Apparently it's acceptable in African culture to ask for something if you have a need, and know someone who could fill that need. Now they are posting new large financial burdens in the bulletin. The last Sunday that I attended church, I was asked for money twice. I told them I am a volunteer and I am here to give back to their country by working. It was awkward. This made me feel kind of crappy about something that had previously seemed so beautiful. I questioned their motives for welcoming us so warmly in the first place. My mom assured me that I can not write off their kindness as a whole, and that I must remember that there no perfect church exists simply because perfect people do not exist. She's usually right. I hope this time is no exception. I pray that we are able to really connect with the people at Jamaica Road Church in spite of our diverse backgrounds and financial situations, and that God will give us discretion about how and when and how much to give.

About Me.

Things are going really well for me. After two months I am feeling settled on the ship and getting more comfortable in the community as well. One month to go. I hope to make the most out of it.

It was easy to make the decision to come to Africa. What is harder for me? Abiding in love. Making a choice to do live selflessly on a day by day, minute by minute basis. Putting the needs of others before my own, and doing it gladly. It is not where we are at or what we are doing that is most significant, but how much love we do it with.

I had hoped being in Africa would change me into a selfless being. Au contraire, my friends. I remain far from perfect, just like always. In spite of the massive needs around me, my own miniscule needs continue to rank first in my head all day long. There are times when I am caring for my patients while the true first thought on my mind is when I will have a chance to take a coffee break. I still become irritated by my own conditions of hunger and fatigue while I live alongside a community of people who do not have meals to eat or beds to sleep in. I still desire to have new things while I am surrounded by people who have never owned a fraction of my possessions. I guess these are consequences of our human condition.

So I do my best to seek God each day, to turn my selfish desires over to Him, to ask Him to fill me with His desires for each situation that I encounter. It is only because of God's love inside of me that I am motivated me to do any good thing.

"And we have known and believed the love that God has for us. God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and God in him." [I John 4:16, The Bible]

I'd like to thank you again for your continued love, prayers, and encouraging words while I am far from home. They mean so much.

Much Love,

Lindsay

Sad News. From Africa.

2007-08-01T00:29:00.000-04:00

Hello,

It's been a sad week here. Because you guys have been walking this journey with me every step of the way, it is only fair to keep you informed. One of our crew members, Collin Carroll, lost his life on Sunday in a terrible drowning accident at a local beach. The currents here can be really rough, and there are no life guards. We know Collin is in a better place, but still cannot imagine the heartache his family is enduring. The community within the ship has come together beautifully to support those who were closest to him and pray for those suffering at home. Three of his closest friends here, who were with him on Sunday, are flying out today to join with his family and friends for services in his hometown in Texas. We are sending with them a book of our apologies to his family. Today would have been Collin's twenty second birthday.

Enclosed is an article from the newspaper in Collin's hometown.

Much Love,

Lindsay

Article published Jul 31, 2007
Rusk Man Dies On Mercy Ships Trip

By PATRICK BUTLER

Religion Editor

A volunteer from East Texas with Mercy Ships of Garden Valley died in Monrovia, Liberia, after he was pulled under water by severe ocean currents.

Collin Carroll, 21, of Rusk, had been swimming with friends Saturday and "apparently drowned" after rescue efforts to revive him failed, Mercy Ships officials said on Monday.

Carroll had been with Mercy Ships since June 8 and was working as a dental program coordinator aboard the Africa Mercy, a 500-foot, nine-deck hospital ship currently docked in

Monrovia.

Carroll was a 2006 Texas A&M graduate with a degree in biomedical sciences. He would have been 22 on Wednesday.

"Our entire organization is in mourning following this tragedy," said Sam Smith, a vice president with Mercy Ships. "We notified Collin's family on Sunday and offered any help we could and all the services at our disposal."

Carroll had been out having a day of fun, Smith said.

"Collin was on his day off," he said. "Our information is that he had gone to a popular beach outside of Monrovia with three other crew members. After lunch, they all ran into the water and the two men (Carroll and his roommate) went in further than the women."

The men soon encountered strong currents, Smith said.

"They were attempting to swim sideways out of 'riptide' as you do when caught in ocean currents," he said, "when a big wave came and dragged Collin underwater. He didn't come up."

Finally finding him in shallow water, the Mercy Ship crew members swimming with Carroll administered CPR, Smith said.

"It was sadly unsuccessful," he said.

COMMITTED

Carroll was a "committed, caring and concerned" Christian, active in his church and looking forward to his medical mission at Mercy Ships, said Carroll's pastor, the Rev. Lee Welch of First Baptist Church of Rusk.

"He was interested in the medical side of things," Welch said. "He even got a driver license in Liberia so he could pick up patients and get them to the ship for medical attention."

Carroll's parents, Jeff and Sandy Carroll, had offered to send Collin "anywhere in the world after graduating from Texas A&M," Smith said. "He chose Liberia."

On his 2007 application to Mercy Ships, Carroll wrote, "I have two options. I can start a meaningless job that I would soon have to leave to continue my education, or I can do something that will have a profound and meaningful effect on my life while glorifying God and helping those in need. I choose the latter."

The health care manager aboard the Africa Mercy, Jean Campbell, said, "Collin was a real strong person on our dental team helping coordinate operations and others who worked with him. He was a great encourager, a hard worker and a tremendous asset to our team. He will really be missed."

Solfrid Quist, executive director of the Africa Mercy, said, "Collin was always thinking about other people and put others first. He was caring and very concerned about others."

Welch said he was notified of the tragedy just before the 11 a.m. service at First Baptist on Sunday.

"Don Stephens, (founder of Mercy Ships) came down personally on Sunday to speak with Jeff and Sandy and give them the news," Welch said. "It was heartbreaking."

In a prepared statement to the Tyler Morning Telegraph, Stephens said, "Collin wrote the following words in his Mercy Ships application, 'Jesus is truly my outlook on each day. Jesus is my source of strength, my inspiration, and my ever-present friend. Without Him, I would be nothing."

"Collin chose Mercy Ships because we combine the doing of the good news with speaking the good news among the worlds poorest. Collin was feeding the hungry, caring for the stranger and visiting the sick - precisely the actions commended by our Lord in Matthew chapter 25. Jesus said those who do what Collin did would inherit the kingdom prepared from the foundation of the world."

It was an honor to serve with Collin Carroll, Stephens said.

"I speak for the entire Mercy Ships family when I say we were honored to have such a fine young man as a member of our Mercy Ships Crew. I pray his example in life would help to encourage all who knew him, to follow his lead."

Welch said, "Collin's parents just got the news no parent ever wants to hear. I don't know why this happened. I don't have any answers. I don't try to give explanations, because I don't have any. Our hearts are grieving for them and we're here for them."

Africa. Take Four.

2007-07-24T00:27:00.000-04:00

Hello again from Liberia :)

Walking to church on Sunday, my feet and ankles became completely covered in mud which was impossible to avoid in the swampy road which, in parts, has become one large puddle. One of the women at church, an usher, asked to take me out back to clean my feet. She refused to take "no" for an answer and she scrubbed my grubby feet until they were clean.

I came here to serve, yet I am being served.

Church started and the choir announced a special selection - an acapello song about called "Mama Liberia." I hope to somehow get a recording of this incredible song to bring home, because I have not heard anything like it before. Their voices were strong beautiful, and my eyes welled up as they sang so optimistically about their broken country, which they continued to thank God for.

I came here to bless, yet I am being blessed.

Isn't it ironic how the times when we are most willing to give are often the times when we actually receive the most? It does not take traveling across the world to learn this principle, as I'm sure most of you have experienced it on many levels in your own lives.

"He who finds his life will lose it, and He who loses his life for My sake will find it." --- Jesus [Matthew 10:39]

Enclosed are the first two ship reports for this Liberian outreach, incase you desire to know the details of what is being accomplished here. You will notice talk of eye surgeries, which I did not previously mention because I have not been caring for this patient population, whose care is done on an outpatient basis. The eye department, however, is doing amazing things for many Liberians through short, minimally invasive eye surgeries. They hosted a "Celebrate Sight" day last week, in which 185 of their patients came back for a post-op visit, a meal in our cafeteria, and a celebration of the restoration of many of their sight.

Thank you again for all of your prayers. I am safe and happy and healthy, and our patients are doing quite well overall - so I guess that means they are working. Thank you, also, for your encouraging responses to my emails. They are refreshing. I apologize to those who I have not had the chance to respond to yet, and will do my best in the days ahead.

Much Love,

Lindsay

Monrovia, Liberia July 2, 2007 -- The sacrificial labor of hundreds of volunteers, and the generous gifts of thousands of contributors, came together this past week to produce an historic moment in Mercy Ships history. On Monday, June 25, the first surgery was successfully completed onboard the charity's newest floating hospital, the Africa Mercy.

Ophthalmic surgeon and Mercy Ships Vice President for International Programs, Dr. Glenn Strauss, says the ship's very first patient, a 90-year-old woman with blinding cataracts, reported being able to see again before she even left his operating table. Patient Suah Paye was so overjoyed she literally danced around the surgical suite, singing and praising God for her restored sight.

Suah lived her entire life in a small village called Oil Town in West-Central Liberia. Along with her large family, Suah is a subsistence farmer; raising their own food along with a bit left over to sell in the market.

Three years ago, cataracts stole the last of Suah's sight. The loss was devastating for such a proud, active woman. She missed being able to work on her farm and missed fishing in the nearby river. She hated not being able to dress herself or even to use the toilet without assistance.

Suah thanked the doctors and nurses for her renewed vision, saying, "When I get home I will gather my people and tell them what you have done for me. I can't pay you, but God will pay you. He will bless you and your children and your children's children."

As Suah's onboard eye surgery got underway, obstetric screening began in the dockside tents for women suffering from birth injuries. Forty-nine women attended the screening. Most were scheduled for surgery over the coming weeks.

The first birth injury repair surgeries were conducted onboard the next day. Thirty-five year old Mamie Paye of North-Central Liberia was one of the patients selected to undergo the procedure on the new ship. Mamie has leaked urine constantly since she suffered a birth injury in 1995. She was abandoned by her husband as a result of the incontinence, a tragically common occurrence.

"Everyday I cry," Mamie says. "When you have this problem you don't have friends. You don't have nobody. People gossip the whole day about you. People abandon you. But God doesn't ever abandon nobody."

Suah and Mamie represent the first of hundreds of patients to be treated onboard the Africa Mercy during the remaining months of the Liberian field service, as well as the tens of thousands to be cared for without charge in the years to come.

As additional volunteers arrive and are trained, the Health Care team will ramp up their activities. The dental team is already seeing patients. Orthopaedic surgery will commence onboard on July 9. Plastic surgery will begin for burn patients in early September with maxillofacial operations being offered later the same month. Ear, nose and throat procedures are slated for October and November.

Mercy Ships is still seeking volunteers to fill positions for the balance of the Liberia field service. Some medical and community development projects are still in need of funding. To learn more write to info@mercyships.org.

Monrovia, Liberia 16 July 2007 -- The Mercy Ships Orthopaedic Surgical Team launched a ten-week program of operations onboard the Africa Mercy this past week. Patients have already been scheduled for more than half of the 100 free surgical slots reserved for orthopaedics. The first operation was conducted on Tuesday, July 10.
After several days spent screening potential patients, volunteer Orthopaedic Surgeon Dr. Brian Sims commented, "I think the thing that impresses me most is just how hardy the African people are; what they're able to put up with and continue to work and function in life in spite of what would normally be a completely disabling injury.

"There was a woman I saw yesterday, I think she was in her seventies, and she had a non-union fracture of her femur. So basically the center of her femur moved whenever she walked. Yet she walked in to the screening and she walked out again. When we told her we were going to schedule her for surgery, she just got the biggest smile and she put her hands in the air and she was praising God," Sims recalled.

The orthopaedic team has encountered a variety of injuries and physical defects; everything from polio deformities to old grenade and gunshot wounds sustained during the 14-year Liberian Civil War. However, more than half the surgeries scheduled to date are to correct club feet. Treating patients in their teens and even older with the deformity is not something Dr. Sims sees in his stateside practice.

He says, "The true, neglected club foot; the foot that's never had any treatment whatsoever is just really unheard of [in developed countries]. It's usually diagnosed within the first day of life. Here it's common to see people who've had a club foot all their lives."

Two children with club feet underwent free corrective surgeries during the first week of operations on the Africa Mercy. Two-year-old Cynthia Cooper and nine-year-old Benedict Menkoah had their feet straightened by Dr. Sims during operations that took several hours each. Both children have endured tremendous ridicule and persecution because of their deformities. Both were abandoned by their fathers.

Orthopaedic team member Dawn Crowther reported, "We especially enjoy being able to schedule the children. We've talked to teens and adults who've had the clubfeet or some other deformity. Many times they tell us they've never been to school because of the handicap. Maybe by helping them at such a young age we'll be able to impact the course of their lives, to give them a future they wouldn't otherwise have."

The orthopaedic team is partnering with medical professionals both on and off the ship to ensure adequate care continues even after the surgical team departs. Orthopaedic Care Coordinator Annie McFarland will see each patient every two weeks through September. Physical and occupational therapists volunteering with Mercy Ships will provide rehabilitation services. A Liberian prosthetics lab has generously offered to build and maintain any prosthetics the patients might need without charge.

Eight surgeons from the U.S. and the U.K. have agreed to fly into Liberia at their own expense to conduct the surgeries in the coming weeks. Volunteer surgeons are still needed for an even longer orthopaedic program planned for the ship's next port of call. Six full months of orthopaedic surgery are being scheduled for the field service to Sierra Leone in 2008.

For more information on this and other programs offered by Mercy Ships, write info@mercyships.org.

Number 3...

2007-07-08T00:06:00.001-04:00

Hi friends,

I hope this letter finds you doing well. I have to tell you, this one's kind of a downer. If you can't handle it, skip to the last section dated from the seventh for the good stuff.

6.29.07

On my way down the dock to the eye clinic today I passed two women who were crying. When I asked how I could help them, one of the women told me "Keopa is sick," and pointed to the little girl on her back. Keopa is a toddler with limp limbs and pale skin. They pointed to a growth on her back. "She does not eat, she does not sleep, and no one in our country has the right machine to help her. We have no money to take her to America." I admire these women for their commitment to Keopa. Providing care for even a healthy child can be a difficult feat in an impoverished nation. Unfortunately, Mercy Ships was unable to help Keopa. We are only equipped to do certain surgeries, and Keopa's needs did not fit into that bracket. We referred her to a local clinic. The ladies were eager to allow me to pray for Keopa. I promised them that I would tell my friends and family home of Keopa's needs, and ask all of you to do the same. Please remember Keopa in your prayers.

After meeting Keopa, I spent today working in the admissions department for the eye clinic. We called patients into a tent on the dock one at a time to obtain their past medical history and get vital signs before sending them to the operating room to have their cataracts removed. Every now and again patients and their family members in the waiting area would break into song, singing and clapping their hands in unison. It was beautiful music to our ears as we went about our chores. And as much as my heart breaks for the living conditions and financial situations of the Liberian people, they have something huge that we, as Americans, have lost hold of. They are rich in community. I picture a group of Americans sitting in a waiting room - we read magazines, listen to our i-pods, text on our cell phones. We don't dare make conversation with the person in the seat next to us, much less join together in song with perfect strangers. Maybe if we truly understood how good we have it we'd perk up a little.

7.1.2007

A Liberian woman named Sando from the church I've been going to invited my friend Crystal and I to her house for lunch on Sunday. After waiting an hour after church had come to a close for the torrential rain to slow down, we set out for Sando's home. We laughed together as we dodged many puddles on our thirty ish minute walk deeper into the residential villages of Monrovia. Sando was proud to share her city with us, and we were glad to learn about it. On the way there we passed a herd of goats, on the way home we would pass a herd of cows! We're not in Kansas anymore…

We were greeted by a group of children who were playing in Sando's yard. As Sando opened the door to her one room home she told us "My house is your house. You are welcome here anytime." She made her way over to the window and opened the shade. Her home lit up as the sunlight poured in. The walls were a beautiful deep shade of teal. The wrought iron windows held so much character. The structure of the building was solid and promising in comparison to many around it. There was a stench in the air, a common Liberian rainy season muddy stench. But other than that, Sando's home looked rather desirable. Small, but desirable. I was glad to know that Sando has a comfortable home. And selfishly, I was glad to not be afraid to sit down.

So we sat. And we talked. We compared cultures. We compared lifestyles. We compared professions. Sando has done a lot of traveling in her career, as well. She tells me that she works in audio recording translating the Gospel of Christ into native tongues reaching those who have never heard.

Sando uncovered two bowls – one containing rice and the other a green sauce containing vegetable pieces. She passed us each a spoon to dig in. My belly told me to hold off on the food, but I could not insult my new friend. "Bless this food to our bodies," takes on a whole new meaning when you're not sure exactly what it is that you're eating. She pulled two cups out of the cupboard for us, then washed them in a bucket that was collecting a water leak from the ceiling. I knew we weren't supposed to drink the local drinking water, much less the leaking rain water, but I didn't want to insult my new friend. I was a thankful that Crystal put her foot down when it came to the water. She explained to Sando that our bodies are used to different kinds of water, and that if she visited the US our water might make her sick, too. With a smile, she sent the kids outside to get sodas for us.

When our meal was complete, Sando presented both Crystal and I with several yards of beautiful fabric. It was the eyelet kind – the fancy stuff I avoided in the market because it is the most expensive. What an honor. But could we really accept? Sando insisted. I hope to give Sando something in return, but am not sure what. Like everywhere else in the world, the women in Liberia talk. It is important to me that the Liberians do not feel like they need to have something to offer in order to befriend the Mercy Ships volunteers, which can be common in impoverished communities. I also wouldn't want them to befriend us in hopes of receiving gifts. I want to get to know Sando - to hear her stories, to encourage her, to pray for her. I do not want material things to be central in this. Maybe you could pray for my friendships with the Liberian people.

The Liberians seem to think of us as being wealthy because of the color of our skin. Little do they know we are volunteers. In the markets they greet us with the words "Mercy Ships!" and mark their prices up with a smile, often five or ten times what a native would pay. Liberia is a war torn country that has become very reliant on handouts from international non-governmental humanitarian organizations (NGO's) trying to enable the country to get back on it's feet. A typical African wage is about three American dollars per day, which makes me think that just a little bit of my money could go a much longer way in the hands of a Liberian than in my own. But giving them money could set a negative precedent. Because the ship only docks in each country for a short term period, our mission here is to empower people, not to create dependance. For instance, rather than handing out food, we have an agricultural team that teaches natives how to grow their own crops. Also, because in a nation as corrupt as Liberia the money that people do have is often spent on the wrong things, putting money in the wrong hands could often be more harmful than not giving at all. I pray that God would show me if and when it is beneficial for me to give money to the Liberians.

7.3.2007

So I'm sitting on deck seven of the Africa Mercy, struggling to pull my thoughts together after watching a documentary called "An Uncivil War" on the brutal battle in Liberia that only came to an end a couple of years ago when the UN finally stepped in in it's largest peace keeping effort in history. I overlook the UN base, which is only hundreds of feet from our ship, located in the Freeport area of Monrovia. The Freeport gate, which we have to walk through to get from the ship into town, was shown in the film as one of the bloodiest areas in the war. If I were to walk to the Port side of the ship during daylight hours I could see the skyline of Monrovia's downtown area. Unfortunately these monumental buildings cannot be seen at night because they are merely shells. The insides of most of them were blown out during the war and no electricity remains to light them up. Some are now occupied by squatters, some remain desolate. Over half the country was displaced from their homes while fleeing the rebels. The bridge we cross over into town in still plagued by hundreds of bullet holes in the railings on either side.

[Blown out buildings downtown]

[Bullet holes in a light post]

Any heartache I have felt in my twenty-four years of picket fence life pales in comparison to what these people have endured. Imagine seeing the severed bodies and displaced parts of your friends, family, and neighbors lining the streets of your hometown. Imagine living in a country where rape was outlawed only three years ago and women are just beginning to exercise control over their own bodies; where boys were recruited to become child soldiers well before age ten and still wander the streets aimlessly with no place to call home. I am here. I am in it. Yet I do not know that I am capable of grasping the depths of what the Liberian people have experienced. I have been excused from these everyday tragedies from one reason - because I was born into middle class family in a wealthy nation. How unfair.

I am searching to find my place in all of this. Was I called to Liberia to give back for these three months, or is this just the beginning? Please pray that God would use me to the fullest each day here and direct my path for the future. And I imagine that my parents are squirming after reading this. My grandparents, too. Things are so so much better here now that the war is over, especially with the UN being so close. But they worry. I'd be especially thankful if you could say a prayer for them today, too.

7.7.2007

If you're still reading, I'm glad you persevered. If you're jumping back in for the good stuff, that's okay, too. Here goes.

So I'm working the night shift on the Africa Mercy, sitting in one of the ship's hospital wards filled with seventeen adorable sleeping Liberian women. Most of them had surgeries done last week to correct their vesicovaginal fistulas, the majority of which have been successful! Most of these women, who were previously society's outcasts because they continually leaked urine, will leave the Mercy Ship healed. Some are still having issues to work through. A few are developing infections and a few are still leaking. Please pray for these ladies.

When I say the patients are adorable, I mean they are ridiculously adorable. They are little, most about five feet. Their names range from simple ones like Mary and Mama(!) to more complex ones like Nyotongue and Ghango. The ladies were timid in their first few days here, probably because of fear. Socializing has not been a normality in their lives, some for many years. Also, so many things on the ship are brand new to them. For some this is their first time seeing white people, their first time in an air conditioned building, their first time on a boat, their first time up a flight of stairs and across a gangway, their first time being polked and prodded the way patients are in hospitals. But now that they are recovering from their surgeries and feeling more comfortable here they are coming out of their shells.

We communicate in loud, simple, pronunciated words because of the difficulty understanding each other's accents. We smile a lot as we mistake one another's words. If one woman cannot understand what I am asking her, chances are those in the beds around her willl step in and play interpreter, and next thing you know it's taken seven people to communicate whether or not she has had a bowel movement today. (TMI. Sorry. Such is life in the medical field.) Once meds are given, baths are taken, and incision care is complete, the ward turns into a social arena for these happy women living in their newly healed bodies. There are times when it looks more like a slumber party than a hospital in here! Most of our patients do not read or write. So what else do you do to pass the time in a hospital? Color. Knit. Paint nails. Sing. Laugh. Most of them have catheters in their bladders, and they carry the bags collecting their urine around like purses as they wander around the room visiting with their new friends. Tonight they were a captive audience as I read to them from a story book about Moses dividing the red sea. This is by far my most entertaining nursing gig yet!

It seems that most Liberian people are well versed in the Bible and African worship songs. A couple of days ago I was fortunate to catch the patients outside on the deck outside worshipping God. They shared their stories about the shame they've endured because of their medical conditions and thanked God for healing their bodies. Again, there was singing, clapping, and a little bit of dancing. Can't get too crazy with a catheter in! I am thankful to be a part of these women's journeys.

[VVF patients arriving at the dock...]

[Awaiting screening...]

[Boarding the ship...]

[Recovering from surgery...]

[Ready to go home!]

Wherever you are today, I am sure this letter leaves you feeling a little bit more grateful than before for everything that surrounds you. Soak it up.

"This existence is to be saturated with life." --- Justin Garwood

Much Love,

Lindsay

Number Two.

2007-06-28T00:03:00.000-04:00

Hello from Liberia :)

Enclosed is an exerp from my friend Megan Petock from Pennsylvania who
I traveled here with. Apparently she is an incredible writer. She's
doing a column for the Philadelphia Inquirer throughout her year long
commitment to Mercy Ships, so stay tuned if you like what you read...

"VVF

June 26, 2007. Monrovia, Liberia. Yesterday the hospital opened. Five eye surgeries were performed and 60 VVF surgical candidates were screened. Journalists and media documented the historical day which was eight years in the making. It was exciting for everyone.

Except for three women.

VVF stands for vesico-vaginal fistula. During a pro-longed labor pressure from the head of a fetus can cause internal tissue to become necrotic. A fistula develops between the bladder and vagina and causes a constant leak of urine. More severe fistula's may include the rectum and feces will leak as well.

Western medicine has eliminated this condition in the developed world. But in Africa at least 2 million women are leaking.

They leak because girls are forced to marry before they have fully developed pelvic bones. They leak because their bodies are malnourished. They leak because maternal care is not accessible. Often, a woman will endure five of six days of unattended labor. Her efforts produce a dead baby and a solemn memorial.

VVF women are societies outcast's. Husbands leave. Friends ignore. Unable to control their stench they are left to carry their burdens alone. Many become severely depressed.

60 women arrived yesterday with hope. Hope that they might regain their lives.

57 are still hoping.

3 went home.

This morning during our crew meeting we prayed those three women. And we continue to hope for the other 57.

Please pray for the physical and spiritual healing of these women throughout the next three weeks. Also, please pray for the surgeons- that they would be safe as the travel to and from Liberia and that their hands would be especially skilled."

Much Love,

Lindsay

Africa & Such

2007-06-18T00:48:00.000-04:00

Hello!

If you're not already aware, you are receiving this email because on June 13th I left New Jersey for Africa, where I will be serving with Mercy Ships, a non-profit Christian Humanitarian organization providing health care off the coast of Liberia through September 17th.

This is a burden that has been inside of me for a long time. And although this trip did not come together as soon as I had hoped, looking back I can see that God used the extra time in the states this year to prepare me. Appreciating the beauty of our country, exploring new cities, working in unfamiliar settings as a travel nurse, meeting amazing new people, cultivating new friendships, yet still sharing in the lives of my equally amazing friends and family back home (who somehow continue to support me despite my lack of commitment to New Jersey!), learning how to say goodbye over and over again - all of this has grown me and prepared me for this venture ahead. I thank God for anticipating our needs even before we know they exist and for preparing me for this opportunity. And I thank you, for being a part of my world. I don't know that I would be standing on my own two feet, much less flying to Liberia to fulfill a calling, without the faithfulness of those you who upheld me through the dark times and now accompany me in celebrating this life that we walk alongside one another regardless of our physical locations. I think of the Cedarbrook and Elevate crews in Jersey, my friends at Circle of Hope in Philadelphia, Cornerstone Church and Venture in San Francisco, and One Place in Phoenix. I think of my incredibly loving family, my ever so faithful friends at home, my amazing new friends in new places, my fellow travel nurses, a boy in Phoenix who inspired me. I think of the roommates whose lives I've been privileged to share in. I think of those who I have looked to as mentors over the years: Uncle Ron, Cheryl Yek, Mrs. Hobbs, Jolene, Pastor Randy, Rod White, Ninita, Mary Newman, my Mother. I have been ridiculously blessed.

Know that I am not going on this mission alone, I am going as a representative of this community that has raised me up. I hope to keep you updated on the happenings on the Mercy Ship because you, my friends and family, are just as much a part of this trip as I am.

(Alright, alright. To all of the males who are still reading, the mushy-ness will be kept to a minimum from here on out. Promise.)

6.14.2007

Up, up, and away...

So this is it. I'm on my way to Liberia. Leaving from JFK airport in New York City was a headache, as would be expected, I suppose. Everyone was in a hurry there. A mean hurry. No time to smile. Or even be cordial, for that matter. I was reminded of my growing fondness of west coast culture. (Sorry, Mom.)

Flew with my new friend Megan, who is another nurse from Bucks County, PA who will be serving with me on board the Mercy Ship. No turbulence. Lots of empty seats. Good food. Great flight.

Landed in Brussels, Belgium, around 9am. Met up with Kassi, a pre-med student from British Columbia, Canada, who will be working as the dental sterilizer in a Mercy Ships clinic in Liberia. I am glad that the three of us have each another to travel with.

A Day in Belgium...

Everything is smaller here. The hotel rooms, the cars, the cappuccinos, the tiny spoons they eloquently use to stir their foamy cappuccinos. It feels quaint. I like that. We don't dare to purchase a thing, because the exchange rate is insane.

The Belgian people speak Dutch, with French as their second language, but a lot of them know English as well. The words roll off of their tongues so romantically. (I'm suddenly wishing I had spent less time hiding in the back of Mr. Champeaux's tenth grade French class exchanging notes with Kristen Miller and more time learning the language!) They somehow know we're not European and often speak English to us even before we open our mouths. So I'm guessing that they can pick us out of the crowd in the same way that we spot the Europeans like fish out of water in our own home country, usually by the short shorts on the men, the lack of razor usage on the women, and the ever present backpack on back camera in hand combo. I'm wondering what exactly it is about us that sets off their American radar.

The men are cute, with their European accents and fitted jeans. But they don't seem to have any shame in staring at the ladies. Not glancing, but staring. And they don't so much open doors. So next time your heart melts at the sound of Hugh Grant's charming accent, ladies, know that his movie star charm is not necessarily universal amongst the European fellows!

So we wait at the Brussels Airport to board our nine hour flight to Monrovia, Liberia. We will actually be heading west through three time zones, which makes me just a little closer to all of you. Hooray!

[Megan, me, Kassi on a double decker bus!]

6.16.07

And the African adventure begins...

You could have heard a pin drop on the drive from the airport to the ship last night as we gazed out the windows taking in things that we had only previously seen on the cover of National Geographic magazines. This is it. The real thing. Poverty + palm trees + grass huts. I did not see one white person in the very populated village on the hour long drive, which intimidated me for a minute, until I reminded myself that this is, in fact, Africa!

Crew members go into the community in groups of two or more, and so far, there are no major safely issues to tell of. Mercy Ships works hard to build a solid rapport with the community, not only by performing free medical services, but also by employing natives at fair wages, which is amazing! They know we are here to help. And incase they forget, I carry a pocket knife!

There was a crew member who passed away after contracting Malaria a couple of months ago, but he unfortunately was not taking the recommended anti malaria medication.

The Africa Mercy, where we will be living and working, was a cargo ship that has been converted over the last several years into a hospital ship to replace the former Anastasis, which will soon be departing from Liberia for a scrap yard in India. The crew spent the last three ish weeks, day in and day out, moving heavy boxes from the Anastasis to the Africa Mercy. They tell us we got here at just the right time. The major elements are in place, but there is still some organizing to be done on this new ship.

[Africa Mercy on the Left, Anastasis on the Right]

We are greeted again and again by crew members from all corners of the world who recognize us as new faces on board. I am impressed by a multitude of fancy accents and an array of personalities. I feel very welcome on the Africa Mercy.

My cabin is on the third floor, which on one end houses the medical staff, and on the other end houses the hospital. The hospital is fully equipped with an XRay machine and a CT scanner, a post anesthesia recovery unit, an ICU, and a hospital ward, which is where I will be working. The rooms in the ward hold up to ten patients in beds only feet apart, quite different from a modern American hospital. So much for infection control!

The six berth (bed) cabin is tight, as expected. It is separated into three sections that are each about 6X6 feet and hold two girls each, for a total of six roommates. I don't have a roommate in my section right now, but when I do I doubt that there will be room for both of us to stand up at the same time!

The food leaves a thing or two to be desired, but no one seems to complain. Hooray that we DO have a couple of fresh vegetables! Usually just cucumbers and tomatoes, I'm told. My favorites! Both are safe to eat when purchased locally if they are cleaned with bleach. Not so sure where the meat comes from. It looks a little scary. Okay, really scary. I try to fill up on other things.

Orientation meetings start Monday, and we will be taking patients on the new ship the Monday after that. Things are pretty low key on the ship on weekends. Trying to stay busy to avoid homesickness. How exactly do you stay busy when everything is closed on the ship on the weekends? You go to the beach, of course. I am ridiculously happy to find out that there are beautiful beaches just miles away. And the water is warm! According to the more experienced crew members, we will work hard, but there are times to play hard, too. Haven't so much started on the working hard part yet, but the beach was, nonetheless, a great place to play.

6.17.07

A Sunday in Liberia...

Attended Jamaican Road Church today, less than a mile from the ship. I am not sure where to begin in describing the community that we walked through to get there. It is beautiful yet heart wrenching. Tribal music plays loudly. The natives line either side of the street, some sitting on their front porches, some selling goods, some carrying buckets of water on their heads. Their wardrobes are rich in color. The babies are strapped to the womens' backs. Children are everywhere. Most wear battered looking clothes. Two are completely naked. A few look well kept. Their skinny arms and legs are complemented by round bellies and beautiful white smiles, which they exercise often. The elderly population is quite scarce. Out of hundreds of people, I spot only one gray haired head.

The dirt roads are puddle filled, as you'd expect in rainy season. The backs of our legs were mud stained when we arrived at Jamaica Road Evangelical Church. But it didn't matter. Much like the sweat that dampened our entire bodies in the cinderblock walled, tin roofed church. I would estimate that is was at minimum eighty five degrees plus humidity. And maybe once I am over the honeymoon phase of this experience the heat will matter. But today, it didn't. We were immediately captivated by the worship. They sang to the Lord a cappella, with percussion and moroccos intermittently. They have nothing, yet they sang that the Lord has provided! Their strong and beautiful voices echoed throughout the small church. They clapped and they danced. There were five and six year old boys who had more rhythm than all of my white girlfriends added together. (Okay, maybe not Dale. Dale has some serious moves!) The pastor preached about Jesus providing for our needs, and how He is using Mercy Ships to do so in Liberia. It was a privelege to be a part of such a service, and I look forward to many more.

So that's all for now. Will try to keep the updates coming. Maybe not so lengthy next time.

I would love to know how things are going in each of your worlds.

"Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all we ask or think, according to the power that works in us, to Him be the glory." [Ephesians 3:20-21]

Much Love,
Lindsay