Reality Check

The day started at 6:30 in the morning for me as I loaded the car in preparation for our trip to Ouagadougou. Although I wanted to leave by 7:00, it wasn't until 8:00 that the car had all of its expected passengers: Rebeca and her twin daughters, Naab and Ziem, Lucie, and Poubezaola with her cousin. Let's just say it was a party in there. 

Each of these people were in need of medical care, so let's just stop right here for a reality check. The ability that you have to drive down the road to a medical clinic or hospital to see a doctor and get blood work or other diagnostic testing is not something to take for granted because the majority world doesn't have that. We fall in that category, which is why I load my car up with sick or hurting people and drive them four hours away to a place they've never been just to get an X-ray or an EKG. Reality check: there are people in the poorest places of the world who die from lack of access to medical care. 

We arrived to Ouaga around noon, and the rest of the day consisted of consultations, lab work, eye doctor visits, vaccinations, a cardiac ultrasound, EKG, and one grand trip to the pharmacy. By dark, we were all so exhausted that we grabbed some rice and sauce off a street vendor and finally sat down to eat for the first time all day at 7:00 pm. I put Lucie, Rebeca, and her twins to bed in the guest house before continuing on to the airport to pick up a visitor coming in from the United States. By the time my head hit the pillow that night at midnight, all I could do was thank God for the many blessings of the day: the availability of doctors, good test results, access to medicine, and the energy to make it through the day. 

Which brings us to another reality check: not all stories turn out good like this. Sometimes scans show tumors. Sometimes ultrasounds show abnormalities. Sometimes blood work shows disease. Sometimes surgery doesn't work. And sometimes there is nothing we can do. But not this day. This day, God gave us all around good news for Rebeca's daughters, Lucie, and Poubezaola. 

The next morning started somewhat early again with some errands around town before hitting the road home. Just when I was at my sleepiness moment, I heard singing erupt from the back seat. Soon, Rebeca, Naab, Ziem, and Lucie were singing praises to God at the top of their lungs, and I'm not sure I've heard anything that beautiful in a long time. It distracted me from my selfish thoughts of how tired I was and reminded me of another reality: praising God is the proper response for everything, and it's the most beautiful and pleasing thing that we can do. 

It all became worth it in that moment. The hours of waiting in waiting rooms became worth it. The money spent became worth it. The phone calls to doctors were worth it. Running around all day without much to eat was worth it. Even giving up the nursing I had imagined in my mind to help people in this different kind of way became worth it. Just to hear them singing praises. 

I joined them; I couldn't help it. From the bottom of my heart arose a genuine praise that I couldn't help but sing about. I think angels were dancing around the car as we sped down the highway and sang of God's good works and love for us. Maybe they were even singing along.

Reality check: Burkina Faso is not an easy place to live - not for the people who live here because disease is real and good medical care is slim and sparse, and not for me because I find myself with a full plate and sometimes not enough strength to make it all happen the way I wish it would. But here is the real reality check: God provides the strength for us to do what he has called us to do, even when we are tired. Life is not fair, but God is gracious and loving and faithful to his children. And whether the test results are good or bad, we have reason to praise him and sing at the top of our lungs for his grace, salvation, and presence with us forever and always.