"Though the dark brings grief,
And the valley is filled with the shadow of death,
There remains a greater shadow still.
It is a deeper shadow.
The shadow of the Almighty..
And in His shadow, there is rest."
This quote is hitting a tender chord with me tonight as I am tucked deep
into the heart of Tanzania. I am living in a very dark place that is full
of grief. This valley is most definitely filled with the shadow of death.
The power of Satan is real and sometimes it is entirely too easy to focus
on the overwhelming sadness of the lives of the people I come into contact
with every day. It can almost be easy to forget about the shadow of the
Almighty that is much greater then the power of Satan. The more involved I
become with the people here, the more their sadness and pain of wickedness
burdens my heart. What a relief it is to take those burdens and throw them
on the shoulders of my heavenly Father who is much stronger then I am.
Much has happened since my last update, just over 2 weeks ago. Thursday,
the 31st, Trudy and I bid farewell to Rachel and Rebecca early one morning
in the cool Mbeya darkness, and began our own cycle of the day that took us
back to our little home in the valley. The next morning, Tim, Sheryl, and
little Amy headed to Mbeya in their land rover to take care of some
business, and along side of settling back in, we helped Teresa keep the
house and the three boys that Tim's left behind. If you remember from my
last update, we girls had to pack up our main house in order for some
renovating to be done while we were gone. Well, it STILL isn't finished,
so ever since we got back, Trudy and I have been living here at Zeiset's
compound, and sleeping in my bedroom house at night. All of our earthly
possessions are piled into the little house as well, basically leaving us
with walkways to our beds. Yes, it's quite annoying at times, as I do find
myself relishing order and the absence of clutter, but I'm learning that
"in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content."
The first few days after we returned to Ivuna, I had a makeshift clinic set
up between the kivuli (shade porch) and living room in Tim and Sheryl's
house, but I quickly wearied of not having space and being so disorganized,
plus when Tim's returned, I knew we would need to come up with a better
option. Since our house was no where close to being ready to accommodate
patients, and the men have been working on fixing up another house Tim owns
in preparation for being a clinic someday, we decided to quickly clean up
that house enough to be usable, and move in! It has been absolutely lovely
to have a NICE clinic, with nice rooms, lot of room, and quietness. It's
fast becoming my little domain, and even tho we had patients amongst dirt
and clutter, (we were quick trying to finish some projects) I was so
thankful for the space. I decided to ignore the piles of dirt and concrete
left behind by the fundi. :) I began painting some of the walls, and am
thrilled with how fresh and welcoming it's starting to look. Give me some
time to add some Swahili teaching posters, and to paint a Bible verse in
Swahili on the wall, then I'll send some pictures.
Clinic. You know, I knew I would be stretched, and I knew I would find
myself out of my comfort zone, but more and more, I'm finding myself thrown
into new situations and dealing with cases that I feel so unprepared for.
I am learning to lean even more heavily then ever on God, and it's very
good for me. It's hard to prepare to be the highest and only trained
professional in a setting where there's very little back up...and to only
be an LPN! I'll admit I've had times when I've wrestled with a lot of
questions as to WHY I ever felt I could do this. But without fail, each
time my wrestling all boils down to the fact that God has very clearly led
me here, and He has promised His strength will be made perfect in my
weakness. I'm relying 150% on that promise.
They arrived on motorcycle. Two motorcycles, actually- each one loaded
with 3 people. I was focused on another patient at the moment, and except
for a fleeting thought of "oh no, this is something bad", I didn't think
much of the group until it was time for me to examine them and see what
the problem was. They were ushered into the room, and as we began hearing
the stories and I started pulling back kanga's and removing the coverings,
my stomach dropped as I realized the extent of the burns we were dealing
with. The story went that the mother was carrying her child on her back
when she "fell" into the fire. What the truth is, we don't actually know,
but I do know that either she was extremely drunk when it happened, or else
she was kicked, to be as severely burned as she was. It was agonizing. It
had been 2 days since the accident, and other then a little local "dawa"
(medicine), absolutely nothing had been done for them.
I bandaged the child first. Little Miriam was small for her four
years, and very cooperative, something I've not found much of in my young
patients. Her entire back and bottom, and mostly down the back of her legs
was burned, as well as her one arm, and spots on both ankles. I was able
to get her well coated in B&W salve, and bandaged decently.
Then I turned to her mother, and as the layers of kanga's came off, I
realized we were dealing with an extremely severe case, and I estimated
skin surface to be at least 50% burned. I quickly saw that it was more
then I could handle. Maybe, if she would've come to me right away, I
would've been able to heal her off with the B&W, but the delay in coming
for help had set her back so far. Her one arm was burned the entire
circumference, thus was cutting off circulation to her hand, which was
already double the size of her other one. Infection was setting in, and I
realized that if she didn't get help soon, she would be loosing that arm,
as well as possibly her life. I bandaged her as best I could, and gave
clear, non-questionable commands to get her to town as soon as possible,
then took a deep breath, and cried as I watched her get back on the
motorcycle on which she had come. Her seat was completely burned, and the
thought of her riding that cycle was more then I could handle, but I had no
better option to give her.
I've been bandaging Miriam for a week now, and am very pleased with her
progress. When we asked about her mom today, the ladies simply said she's
still alive and good. What that means, I don't know. I only pray that
she'll pull through.
This past Saturday was a very stretching day for me. My first patient was
a young, timid Sukuma woman, accompanied by 2 big men (the Sukuma are a big
people!). I first confirmed the miscarriage they feared had happened 3
weeks ago, then moved on to the most important subject of her continued
bleeding. Once again, I realized I was dealing with a case that was beyond
my capacity to handle in my simple little clinic, and gave them
instructions to get her out to a bigger hospital with more advanced
equipment. I felt so bad to be the bearer of bad news, and desperately
wished I could help them more, as I felt I hadn't done anything. But upon
releasing her, the men (her husband and father), both couldn't thank me
enough. The father actually gave us an extra 1000 tsh on top of our normal
500 tsh fee, "just to get chai and maandazi for all we did". I was touched
by their gratefulness and the obvious care they took over the dear girl.
Love and care to other human beings is something not seen very often in
this culture, and it gave my heart a much needed boost to observe people
actually caring for another person.
The morning passed with several other more routine patients, as well
as some down time to study Swahili, then Trudy and I locked the clinic and
headed to Zeiset's for lunch. I wasn't even done eating my rice and fish
stew when a motorcycle showed up at the door with another pregnant woman in
trouble. I quickly finished my food and hiked the 10 minutes to the other
side of the village where my clinic is now located. Examination and
questioning showed us that she had a hard fall the night before during a
fight, and was in a fair amount of pain. I used my doppler to find a
heartbeat- which, PTL, was strong and healthy! It took a lot of
questioning until I finally realized that it was not labor pain she was
feeling (she still had several months to go before her due date), but
muscle pain from the fall, but I decided I wanted to observe her for at
least an hour to be sure. I got her comfortable on my clinic bed, sent the
two men who accompanied her to kill some time, and settled in beside her to
watch. She fell asleep immediately, poor woman, and slept hard the entire
hour away, awakening feeling a lot better. I prayed for wisdom as I
watched her sleep, and when she awoke, decided to just strongly enforce a
lot of rest with her feet up, as well as an immediate trip to a larger
hospital should she begin labor pains. Once again, I was showered with
thanks for everything I had done, and once again I felt like it wasn't
much, and I wished I could do more. One of the other girls reminded me
that in this culture where people aren't valued, showing some compassion
and giving time can go a long way in making people feel loved and cared
for. I was thankful for that reminder, as I constantly am wondering how I
can show love when I can't even speak much of the language yet.
Today I dealt with my first malnourished baby- 3 months and 4 1/2 pounds.
He made me so sad. I worked with his mother for several hours, attempting
to teach her how very important it is make him eat even when he's weak and
falls asleep easily, (because she had milk, and he was still able to suck),
and eat often, It's a desperate feeling to try so hard to get a naive
mother to realize how important it is, especially when the life of her baby
was laying very close to the edge.
My mornings are spent actively involved in the clinic, and I'm often
mentally and emotionally weary once the morning is over, but I love
dropping in at Joyce's to greet her and squeeze baby Beatrix... or in at
Mama Wini's to give little Silivana a hug. I love "my" babies, and won't
miss a chance to squeeze them, and to greet their sweet mama's. I love to
throw the mat out in the shade of my bedroom house and "study Swahili"
there, but more then happy to be interrupted by the school students walking
by on their way to and from the river with water, or any other neighbors
who happen by. (Unless, of course, it's an annoying man, then I'm all too
pleased once he's on his way.) I blunder around with my limited Swahili,
understanding much more then I can begin to form into words myself. I love
throwing the mat out in Tim and Sheryl's courtyard after dark and
journaling by the light of the candle and the current full moon. Until the
journaling is discarded in favor of a heart to heart chat with fellow
laborer's- don't ask how late Teresa and I were out there the other
night!:) So yes, I feel overwhelmed on a regular basis, but I also find so
much joy and fulfillment in my life that the good times tend to outweigh
the bad.
Pray for me as I relate to the many people that fill my life- whether it be
my patients, the neighbors, the young people, the countless children, or my
fellow missionary team. God is refining me greatly and I'm finding some
rough edges that I didn't realize were there, and while I'm thankful for
that, it's not exactly easy. I need wisdom and patience beyond my human
capacity, and am so VERY grateful to serve a God who never changes, even
when life seems to change daily.
God bless you today!
Kim
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