See Something More

“Take care.” “Be safe.”  “God speed.” When I moved to Africa, everyone always had a final parting word or piece of advice to share before saying goodbye. “We’ll be thinking about you and praying for you.”  “Can’t wait to hear from you.” “Good luck.”  That last one always made me smile, as if luck has anything to do with it. But I get it, saying goodbye is awkward, and sometimes you just say what you’re used to saying. I sincerely appreciated every single word offered by every person who took the time to say the hard goodbye, completely understanding that often words feel inadequate compared to the emotion behind them in the moment.  I remember one time, when this guy was saying his parting phrase to me, he just smiled real big and said, “Have fun!”  Nobody had said that one to me yet, and honestly, it felt a little out of place at the time. It’s not like I was going to a theme park or a birthday party. I remember thinking, wh...

“I just don’t really know what I’m doing with my life,” she said as if that was the conclusion of the matter, and we all laughed as we took turns saying “me too” and “me three” and “me four.”  Just to be clear, we actually do know what we are doing with our lives, just not in the way most people think about it. The very fact that she said, “I don’t know what I’m doing with my life” indicates the kind of culture we come from, one that values having things planned out for your future. But we four girls sitting around this table have quit our jobs (or in one’s case, turned down several offers) to serve here in Africa for a time, and then we will go back to our countries for...who knows what? A fresh start? We may not know exactly what the next season of our future looks like, but we do know what we are doing with our lives. We know what our lives are about and who we are living for. But because of pressure to have things figured out, being in a place of short-term uncert...

I carefully organized every hour of my day, writing down at what time each medicine needed to be given, when each lab needed to be drawn, whose IV’s needed to be restarted, and when each premie baby needed a feed. My day had become one massive to-do list.  The best parts of the day, though, happen outside of my to-do list. Like when a woman comes in at nine centimeters and delivers a baby within five minutes. Or when I make a joke to a postpartum mother about taking home one of her twins since she has two babies and I have none, which the entire maternity ward thought was really funny. Or when you have to search all over the hospital for batteries to get your fetal doppler to work, but it turns into a big laugh with your coworkers. It actually seems like the unplanned parts of the day turn out to be the most memorable.  One of my favorite parts of every day at the hospital is when the chaplains make their rounds. This quartet of Togolese, Burkinabé, and American women...

I’ve never worked so hard or been so exhausted in my entire life. Years from now, I’ll probably look back on this statement, roll my eyes, and tell my 27-year-old self that you don’t even know what hard work it, but for now, I can say I’ve never worked so hard or been so exhausted in my entire life.  At six ‘o clock in the evening on my sixth out of seven days of working twelve hour shifts at the hospital (including two night shifts), I had nothing but tunnel vision to finish passing my meds and get home as soon as possible. Six shifts in seven days is tough enough, then consider that a “normal” shift regularly involves caring for anywhere from one to four laboring patients plus a few postpartum couplets and a NICU baby or two, which ends up at an average ratio of about one nurse to nine patients. This past week, I had as many as fourteen. (To give comparison, when I worked as an L&D nurse in the US, what was considered “safe” was one nurse to two laboring patients only.) ...

I chose a purple and yellow skirt out of my closet, specifically because the person who gave it to me was coming to visit today.  We met last year, when she delivered her baby at our hospital. Her delivery was somewhat traumatic, since the baby was born with a rare malformation and ended up undergoing a surgical intervention a few days after birth. During that difficult time, I connected with the mother in such a special way that we continued to visit one another long after she left the hospital. Before I left for my furlough, she surprised me with the unexpected gift of a purple and yellow piece of fabric, which I had made into a wrap-around skirt. Even when I was in the United States, our friendship continued as we messaged each other with WhatsApp. This year, as we continue out friendship, the Lord laid it on my heart to talk to her more directly about Jesus.  So last week when I visited her, we rejoiced together over how much her baby had grown and how miraculous ...

Taylor sat across the kitchen table from me, and we held hands as we prayed for our friend, R* who had just responded to the gospel with belief in Jesus a few days earlier. She had agreed to studying the Bible with us on a weekly basis, and we were planning to see her the next day. In anticipation of her visit, Taylor and I stayed up late into the night prepping for it and praying for her. We prayed for many things, but one thing in particular was for the Lord to continue to reveal himself to her, even through dreams as this is very significant in the Muslim world.  The next afternoon, we couldn’t wait to see R and ask her how the last few days had been. I loved her response: “So far so good!” She said she had experienced “many changes,” which she mostly clarified as feeling relieved and peaceful. I thought about how she had expressed such confusion a few days ago before she heard the gospel, but now she carried a newfound joy and peace as evidence of the Holy Spirit already p...

I didn’t have a part four in mind when I published the previous three posts. But I can’t help but tell about how the Lord is continuing to write the story. And how it all fits into seeing something more.  Seeing something more is about finding the holy in the common place. It’s about ordinary, normal life with extraordinary purpose and power that comes from knowing Christ. It’s about regular stories that have deeper meaning. It’s about looking beyond the surface to see something more.  From the previous three posts, I hope you got the idea that God has been doing a work in my own life to help me see something more when it comes to the Holy Spirit and his power and authority in our lives when it comes to evangelism and discipleship. After reflecting on these things, writing about them, and praying over them, it’s no wonder what happened next.  I woke up on Friday morning, knowing that my roommate had invited several of our African neighbors over for breakfast....