See Something More

My stomach began to feel slightly weak at the sight of the operating table where Luja lay. I could not see her face, only her body resting in a pool of her own blood. There was so much. When she came to the hospital earlier that day, she was admitted to the OB ward and instructed to undress and lie on the table. Her skirt was saturated with dark blood, and it trickled down her legs. She continued to bleed for the next several hours until she was called into the operating room for an emergency C-section. Now here she was, losing even more blood. As the minutes passed slowly, I could hold it in no longer. I wouldn’t normally do this, but I interrupted the surgeon. “Will she need blood?” Through his mask, I heard a muffled, “Yes.” He looked at me. “You go find blood.” I rushed out of the operating room and ran to the lab, feeling as if time was ticking underneath my watch. Not knowing her blood type, a lab worker walked with me to the operating room to get a

They say you will always remember your twenty-first birthday. I have no doubt that I will always remember mine. But what I will really remember about this day is not that it was my twenty-first birthday, but that it was her first.  When we were called down to the delivery room after dinner, we found Rehema laboring. She was fully dilated, but the baby’s position was still too high. When the water broke, it was full of green meconium. We knew the baby was already at risk, so we got ready for a C-section. In the major theatre (AKA the operating room), I readied myself to catch the baby in my arms. However, the baby was so stuck that the surgeon and even the scrub nurse were working to maneuver it out of the womb. They tried to push and pull for what seemed to be way too long before the baby finally sprawled out on the operating table. It was limp and lifeless.  My heart started beating faster and faster. The doctor placed the baby in the blanket in my arms. “This

(This is an entry from my first day in Tanzania. Sorry for the break in chronology, but I forgot to post this earlier! It is dated May 21, 2012) When I am asked what kind of nursing I want to do, I often respond by telling people that I don’t really know. “That’s okay,” they will respond, “because you won’t really know until you get into the clinical setting. When you find your niche, you will just know it.” For   some people, that happens during the pediatric rotation. “I never thought I would work with kids until I took pediatrics!” they say. For others, it happens when they help deliver their first baby in the obstetrics unit. For me, it happens when I step foot in a third-world country. It happened today when I worked in the Chimala mission hospital for the first time as a medical missionary nurse. This is my field. This is my specialty. This is where I belong. They were right; it is something you just feel and know when you are actually there, living it and experiencin

I parted the curtain that separated the delivery room from the rest of the ward. An additional bed had been dragged from outside and squeezed into the delivery room in order to accommodate our newest admit, who became our fourth laboring patient. All four women, separated by dingy curtains, rested two or three apart from one another on metal tables covered in plastic – their birthing beds. Every five minutes or so, the delivery room would echo with one of the laboring women’s cries. These were groans of pain and pressure unaccompanied by epidurals, injections, and medications that we use in the United States to ease the distress. Occasionally, two or three of the women would have contractions at the same time, filling the room with multiple cries. As soon as I arrived in the delivery room, I found the newest patient resting from her last contraction. I introduced myself just in time to witness and assess her next contraction. Amy, one of my team members, was watching

After at least twenty-four hours of airplanes and airports, it felt wonderful to step foot on ground – Tanzanian ground at that! One breath of the hot, humid air of Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania, and I felt right at home. I closed my eyes and almost convinced myself that I was in Managua, Nicaragua, in the country that first stole my heart for kingdom mission work. The atmosphere reminded just enough of previous mission experiences to allow me to exhale slowly and feel like I belonged there, but at the same time, there was the distinct smell of Africa in the air. I knew that this adventure would be new and fresh. Yes, this experience would build on everything I have already come to know about God and the church through mission work in Latin America, but I also knew it would bring new challenges and lessons that will cause me to grow in ways that will definitely exceed my expectations. We continued to travel by bus on the scenic highway across Tanzania to Chimala where we will b

My mom's face fell as she told me the weather forecast for Saturday. "It's going to be rainy. My plan is not going to work." I frowned a little, too, because I could see the disappointment on her face. I didn't know the plan for Saturday because it was supposed to be a surpise for my twenty-first birthday, but apparently it wasn't going to happen as my mom had hoped and planned. As it turned out, she had been scheming to take my sister and I to Magic Springs, an amusement and water park about an hour away. But without the sunshine, no water park. And with the rain, no roller coasters. My mom was so disheartened as she explained, "I just wanted to make a memory for your twenty-first birthday." Instead, we just hung around the house on Saturday, just like we have been doing the past two weeks that I have been home. I biked with dad on the tandem, and we hit forty-two miles per hour going down hill with a speed limit 30 sign. "Hey dad, do tra

I couldn't tell if the sky was dark because the sun was setting or because the storm clouds were rolling in. It was almost 8:00, and my dad and I were driving home with the windows rolled down. I could taste the humidity. The whole world had a stormy tint to its color. The trees blew back and forth, and it was like they knew the rain was coming. "I love the weather right before a storm." I told my dad as I let my hand catch tiny raindrops out the window. ~~~~~ I wonder if "bad" weather is something we learn - something we are taught by our culture. My friend once told me about a place in the dusty desert that gets very little rain. When the rain does come, all the people go outside to play. From the youngest to the oldest, they all come out just to get their clothes and bodies soaking wet. That's their "day at the park". The joy we find in a warm, sunny, cloudless day is the same joy they find in the rain. What causes us to stay inside begs

I swayed back and forth, gently, as I watched the sky sparkle through the thousands of leaves above me. The solid green leaves turned translucent in the morning sunshine, transforming their summer dark green into a vibrant, almost glowing lime color. They danced, just barely, with the morning breeze, or maybe that was just my imagination. As I rocked back and forth in my hammock, eyes staring straight up into the vast blue cloudless sky, the whole world kind of danced. Snapping out of my trance, I reached down for my Bible. I pulled it up into the hammock with me and turned to Luke, but then I set it down again, closed in my lap, and looked back to the sky. The air smelled like summer - the type of summer that you smell in the morning while it is still cool from the moon and before the heat of the day arrives. Two birds sang back and forth, and although I could not see them, I could hear their carefree worship. Maybe this is worship, too. No pews, no hymns, not even an open Bible

Meet Louis. He's a black and white furry friend that can't weigh more than a pound. With long fuzzy ears, beady black eyes, and a twitching pink nose, this little bunny is pretty much the cutest thing you ever did see. I received a text message at 12:30 last Thursday approximately one hour before I was planning to leave campus for summer vacation. "Are you interested in keeping Louis for the summer?" I read. With a picture of little Louis attached to the message, I was sold in a heartbeat. The first problem was the parents. You see, my parents used to have a rabbit before they had kids, but we'll just say it didn't end up too pretty and bunnies have gotten a bad rap in our household ever since then. The next problem was me. In a few weeks, I will be leaving the country and thus leaving Louis with my parents...or my sister. Grabbing my phone, I texted my sister, Kaysi, asking her if she would be up for taking care of a rabbit all summer. I waited

With boxes packed and car loaded, I signed out of the dorm, but I didn't want to leave. I slowly walked to the fountain in the middle of campus, where I let my feet soak in the cold water as I prayed, thanking God once again for an amazing semester. "I know I have thanked you a million times, Lord, but do you mind if I tell you one more time? Do you get tired of hearing this?"  I could imagine him shaking his head and welcoming me into his lap again. I don't think he minded at all. The year started with the Passion Conference in Atlanta, where God touched my heart through worship and justice. He broke my heart for what broke his: modern-day slavery in the form of human trafficking. Taking that passion back to campus, a friend and I started an organization to raise awareness and funds to fight human trafficking. In one semester, we have established a group, hosted several events, and raised close to three thousand dollars. Also this semester, I successfully fini