Patient Stories Series #1: Donald’s Story

I figure pretty much everyone who reads this blog knows me, since I’ve only written about 6 posts total, and I doubt anyone who doesn’t know me would care.

In fact, I wouldn’t blame you if you do know me and don’t care.

But just in case any of you internet randoms have stumbled on my humble blog, here’s a few things you should know before I launch into this story:

I am a nurse. 

I just graduated from nursing school in May and recently started my first real nursing job (praise God!).

And I HATED nursing school.

As in, almost quit multiple times.

What kept me going was both the confidence I had that God had put me in nursing school for a reason, as well as the people I got to interact with and play a small part in their lives.

Donald is one of those people.

Last October/November I was in Rwanda (which is in East Africa, for those of you about to google it), doing my nursing preceptorship (where we get to choose a specialty).

I was working in the surgery and wound care ward of the district hospital in rural Kibuye, Rwanda. 

You can check out a video of the hospital my friend Alex and I made here.

If you ever have the opportunity to go to Rwanda, or anywhere in Africa for that matter, GO. 

It’s beautiful. 

The people are incredible.

The food is kind of gross, unless you like goat (which I do), tiny little weird fishes (which I don’t), and this thing called Ugali (which I tolerate). 

I can’t even begin to describe Ugali, besides that you feel like you have a  rock in your stomach for the 6 hours after you eat it.

This is the best google could do:

Donald was one of our patients. 

My partner in wound care, Alex, and I fell in love with him immediately.

And we thought his name was Donate (pronounced DOUGH-NAUGHT-AY) for the ENTIRE time we were there. 

I’m not kidding.

We called him Donate every day for two weeks.

And no one corrected us.

We thought it was French.

We were so, so wrong.

He's the one on the left with the crutch.

Donald had osteomyelitis, which is an infection of the bone. 

It’s not commonly seen in the states, but over there, due to lack of medical treatment we see it frequently.

Donald was 9 years old.

He had been in and out of the hospital for the past 6 months with this infection. 

He had a cast on his leg that went up to his knee. 

For the 6 months before we got there the cast had gone all the way up to his hip.

And he had the cutest crutch (see above).

He always wore that yellow shirt with the ladybugs on it.

The cast had a flap cut in it so we could perform wound care on the infected bone and tissue every day.

This was all the treatment he got.

Once a day, his wound was cleaned and his dressing changed.

Alex and I would play with him and another young patient, Marie, when we were bored, or trying to avoid some really gross wound or procedure.

Alex liked to dress him up as a nurse.

Our last morning at the hospital Alex and I cried, and tried to say goodbye.

Donald told the nurses that he didn’t want us to leave.

I didn’t want us to leave either.

A month or so after we got home I got a facebook message from Bernard, one of the Rwandan nursing students, telling me that my friend Donald was still there.

“Donald…. Who is Donald???”

It was then Alex and I realized our mistake.

But, you know, I think he’ll always be Donate to us.

A few months later, another message came through from Bernard, saying that Donald had finally gone home, but that his leg was permanently deformed.

Donald spent almost 9 months in that hospital.

9 months out of school.

His mother spent 9 months in that hospital cooking his meals, cleaning his bed, sheet and few precious articles of clothing, and sharing a bed with him at night.

 Whenever I picture Donald in my head, he's always smiling. 

Because he always was. 

Despite his circumstances, despite the possibility of amputation if the infection wasn't able to be controlled, he crutched around the hospital, joked with the nurses, played with Marie and smiled his sweet quiet smile through it all. 

I'm sure Donald is back in school, still smiling as he watches the other kids run around, while he sits on the sidelines because of the deformity of his leg.

So many things I learned from that boy, so many memories we shared. 

Jesus, be with Donald.

The Heart of Worship

Yesterday we took a little excursion to Santa Cruz.  

The guys wanted to find a place to go cliff jumping, so we did a little googling, phoned a friend and headed to a spot in the redwoods known as "The Garden of Eden." 

We're pretty sure it's known as Eden not because of the landscapes' likeness to The Garden, but because of the nudity some websites warned may be present.  

Luckily, no nudists were in sight when we arrived. 

I prefer to think the name refers to the resplendent scenery that surrounded us... check this out.

Incredible right?

While the boys did this...

... i wandered around the river bend, took some photos, and enjoyed God's handiwork.  

The song "the heart of worship" kept playing over and over in my head as I hopped from stone to stone, trying not to drop my camera in the stream.  The story of this song is one that has deeply impacted me, reminding my to not make worshipping God about the feeling I get out of it or singing a certain style of songs.

But this day, the song reminded me of what the heart of worship really is. It's what's in my heart.  It's not what's on my lips, what's in my brain, or what's coming in though my ears. 

As I sat, enveloped by the sound of rushing water, the song playing over and over in my head, my heart was worshipping God more holistically than if my body were jumping up and down, and my mouth was screaming as loud as my lungs possibly could. 

I'll bring You more than a song/for a song in itself is not what You have required 
You search much deeper within/through the ways things appear/you're looking into my heart 

There's something so worshipful, so right, about sitting in God's presence in his creation. I get why Jesus went off by himself and prayed.  There's a special intimacy with God I've found in those redwoods. Something that can't be created, replicated or manipulated. 

I'm coming back to the heart of worship/And it's all about You/All about You, Jesus 
I'm sorry Lord for the thing I've made it/When it's all about You/It's all about You Jesus 

Adoniram Judson

What a stud.

On Friday night I returned from a trip to Singapore and Cambodia. More to come on that later.

On the plane ride I read a book called "Filling Up the Afflictions of Christ" by John Piper, which contains three mini biographies of men who suffered for the sake of the gospel.

The night I got home, I couldn't fall asleep until 5am (I thought I was smarter than jetlag. Turns out I'm not), so I finished the book.

The last biography in the book was of a man named Adoniram Judson.

I'd heard his name before, but couldn't tell you much about him. But what I learned about his life has caused me to revaluate my life, my dreams and my willingness to suffer on God's behalf.

This is a lame picture of him I found online. He looks totally boring and pensive, but his life was anything but boring.

The first thing that struck me was a letter Adoniram wrote to the father of Ann, the woman he wanted to marry, one month after he met her.

"I have now to ask, whether you can consent to part with your daughter early next spring, to see her no more in this world; whether you can consent to her departure, and her subjugation to the hardships of missionary life; whether you can consent to her exposure to the dangers of the ocean, to the fatal influence of the southern climate of India; to every kind of want and distress; to degradation, insult, persecution, and perhaps violent death. Can you consent to all this, for the sake of perishing, immortal souls; for the sake of Zion, and the glory of God? Can you consent to all this, in hope of soon meeting you daughter in the world of glory, with the crown of righteousness, brightened with the acclamations of praise which shall redound to her Savior from heathens saved, through her means, from eternal woe and despair?

Can you imagine getting that letter?  I made had my dad read it last night and asked him what he would do.  He laughed as he read and replied, "I hope I'd rise to the occasion."

How utterly ridiculous his letter seems in our culture where commitments are made and broken on a whim, and any destination in the world is merely a plane flight away.  But, man, there's something so right about it.

I also like that it has my blog title in it :).

Ann's father passed the buck and told her that she could decide.  She wrote to her friend in a letter:

"I feel willing, and expect, if nothing in Providence prevents, to spend my days in this world in heathen lands. Yes, I have come to the determination to give up all my comforts and enjoyments here, sacrifice my affection to relatives and friends, and go where God, in his Providence, shall see fit to place me."

Now that's a woman I aspire to be like.  Strong, prayerful, and willing to give up everything for her Savior.

Adoniram and Ann were missionaries in India (the voyage there took 114 days) for several years before deciding to go to the unreached country of Burma (now Myanmar).  They preached the gospel and worked to translate the Bible for 6 years before they baptized their first convert.

SIX. YEARS.

It was only after 19 years of working there, spending a year in prison, and Ann's death due to sickness and malnutrition, that Adoniram finally began to see spiritual revival in Burma.

Adoniram never saw his brother or parents again after the day he sailed for India with Ann. I wonder if he had known what lay in store for him if he still would have gone.

He married again when he returned to America for the first time in 33 years. Unfortunately, his second wife also died, as well as seven of his twelve children.

Today about 3,700 Baptist congregations exist in Burma, all finding their roots in Judson's courage, perseverance and faithfulness to the gospel of Christ.

Adoniram's story makes me simultaneously exhilarated and convicted. What I view as sacrifices are minuscule compared to the sacrifices Adoniram and Ann made. Sacrifices they willingly made because they were so convinced of the truth of Scripture, and the existence of the one true God. Would I be willing to give up all that they did? Am I that convinced of the faith I've based my life on?

Another missionary in the 1800's, John Paton, decided to become a missionary on an island of cannibals, simply because no one else would go. What would the church look like if Christians lived like that today? What if the criteria for where we live and serve was not how it fits our skill set, experience and passions, but rather how great the need?  Paton felt the Lord say to him, "Since none better qualified can be got, rise and offer yourself!"  Oh, that I would be willing to hear the Lord say those words, and not rationalize them away with my sense of worldly practicality!

At the same time I'm convicted, I'm excited and encouraged (that's enCOURAGEd). I'm excited because I serve the God who brought Adoniram through everything he endured, and who protected John Paton from the cannibals and helped him reach them with the gospel. I serve the God who gave them the courage, perseverance and long-suffering to endure terrible trials for Zion's sake.

May God grant us each the courage to be obedient to His call on each our lives, whatever that may be.

Times They Are A-Changin'

Man, what a crazy few months. I haven't blogged in so long because I've been overwhelmed by the amount of huge life events I could blog.

I'll give you the higlights:

I graduated from college,

spent 2.5 weeks studying for the board exams for 6-7 hours a day (and went crazy in the process),

celebrated the marriage of my dear friends Jessika and Jericho,

 drove up to the bay, took my boards (to get my RN),  started work at PCC's (Peninsula Covenant Church) Swim & Gym - my favorite summer job,

went to D.C. and Virginia for my housemate Linzy and her now HUSBAND, Dan's wedding,

visited some lovely friends in Maryland (happy birthday Emily!),

worked three weeks of camp,

turned 23 (which involved eating a quail egg,

a surprise sushi/ice skating night,

and a ZAMBONI ride! ),

PASSED my boards,

and tomorrow (actually today, since I've burned the midnight oil writing this post instead of packing) I  drive down to LA, braving CARMAGEDDON (the closing of 10 miles of the 405 freeway all weekend), so I can be ready to leave for Singapore and Cambodia on Tuesday!

Whew!

The summer's been jam-packed so far, full of life, transition and emotion. I can't wait to see what God does in Cambodia!  It's hard to believe we're leaving in just a few days.  It's hard to miss three whole weeks of camp, as God has been doing some incredible things in the kids here, but I know he's prepared the way for me to go to Cambodia. I've been moved by how God has used so many people to pour out His love in their generosity, kindness and affection. He is so faithful, and he is so good.

Gloria a dios!

living broken

To live well in this life is to live broken. Brokenhearted, but wholly restored in Christ.  Another paradox of the “already not yet.”  Already made whole, but still waiting for the complete fulfillment of our restoration through Jesus. We are not called to ignore, invalidate or distance ourselves from the world’s pain; we are to enter into it. To feel the depths of the hurt and devastation that affects each person on this planet in a unique and personal way. That’s what Jesus did. He continually entered in, putting himself in situations where he not only would feel others hurt, but he would be hurt himself. He was abused, mocked, invalidated, judged, ridiculed and misunderstood. If I want to be like him I can’t forget that.  Forget that he chose those things.  And so I’m called to choose them too. 

A Snapshot of Home

This past week was my last spring break ever.  EVER. T-minus 27 days until graduation, but who's counting? 

Here's some photos I snapped on my droid over the week. 

I flew out of the lovely Long Beach Airport to San Francisco to stay with my parents for the week.  Doesn't it look like it belongs on a naval port or ship somewhere?  I love it, there's only maybe 6 gates and a few airlines that fly out of Long Beach.  Quick and easy.

Last Saturday I went bridesmaid dress shopping with my dear friends Kim and Cari.  I have the privilege of being Cari's maid of honor in her wedding, and Kim is a bridesmaid as well.  Cari pretty much let us choose the style, which was awesome, and Kim and I are rock stars and had a dress picked out that both of us love in less than a half hour. 

On Monday (sorry, no easter pictures, but you can check them out on Kim's blog), I went out with my mom.  We saw the movie Soul Surfer (I think I cried 5 times during it, don't judge me), then went to my favorite Sushi restaurant, Suisha, in downtown Redwood City.  I over-ordered, as usual.  It's a bummer leftover sushi is disgusting.

My parents have a cat named Lucy.  Ok, she's mine too.  But I like to pawn her off on my parents so I don't have to change the litter box when I'm home.  Lucy's REALLY old.  18 years old to be exact. And her kidneys are failing, so the vet told my parents to give her subcutaneous infusions of 100 mL of Lactated Ringers EVERY NIGHT.  It's probably the most ridiculous thing I've seen in my life.  Do you see this set up? Ridiculous.

I recently started an Etsy, Etsybybetsy. Kim is an amazing friend and ordered a world map from me, which I made while I was home.  Lucy came outside to check out what all that hammering was.  She was not helpful.

On Thursday, I got to spend the day with my dear friend's daughter Ashlyn.  She's a pretty beastly 4 year old. 

Her mom, Jess, has an amazing blog.  Check it out.  Our first activity - trike in the backyard.  Then the disney store, which was, heaven forbid, CLOSED.  Ashlyn tried to break in multiple ways, including taking my keys out of my purse and trying them in the lock.  Luckily, it opened at 10am, and we were set for the next hour of entertainment. We also went to the park and Trader Joes, where Ashlyn got a banana and rasberry sorbet.  The girl's crazy.  And I love her and her family.

Went to costco with my mom and saw this man in line. 

While waiting for the final episode of The Office (which I don't really follow anymore, but how can you miss the last episode with Michael Scott?), Kim took a little disco nap.  

During The Office, Jess started crying. And we made fun of her incessantly. Yes, I realize this is an awful picture. Maybe she won't hate me as much for posting it because it's so dark.  Love you Jess!

Well, that's pretty much it... I know, you're all so jealous of my crazy spring break.  I don't blame you, it was awesome!

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