The Promised PowerPoint

Happy New Year, everyone!

Thanks for your patience. I finally got a chance to create the PowerPoint. I hope you enjoy it!

Mercy in Africa

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P.S.

I moved back to my former blog. Come over and you'll see post-trip meanderings about Europe as well as some thoughts on Liberia. See you and thanks evermore for reading.

See you later, Mama Liberia

I am leaving Liberia in a few hours and I am just so glad I came.

It has been such a busy six months. I expected that much I am so glad that to throw myself into the work.

In my estimation, I have taught about 80 women how to knit. I focused on three women who will continue on this mission in Liberia when the ship leaves. At least two of them are speaking with local schools to be domestic arts teachers, once the ship leaves and they need employment. I have trained 10 ward nurses who will carry the skill with them to Benin, the ship's next destination. All of them understand -- this is not about vanity (although there is nothing wrong with a nice cardigan, mind you!), but it is about having a skill, a strength, something to share and a technique that can be adapted to do many other things.

To you, dear reader, thank you so much for coming along on the journey, for reading my words, looking at my pictures and caring for the people of Liberia. Thank you from them to you.

And to you, Liberia. God bless you. Don't lose your spirit of song, praise, and indefatigable joy. Don't lose your smile. Work towards peace for yourselves, and don't just allow others to determine your fate, and I know better days will come. Thank you for accepting the 'small Chinese girl' (as the patients would say) and treating her like one of your own.

See you later, readers, and see you later, Liberia.

The last ward service

Today I attended my last ward service aboard the Africa Mercy. Dressed in my African 'suit', I soaked up in the atmosphere and studied the patient's faces, as Andrew pounded away on the drums. There is one new fellow who needs cataract surgery in both eyes. He stared off into the distance, but during the sermon he nodded his head. As we sang songs, he sang along, a smile spread across his lips. At the end of the service, Lucy called on me to pray out loud and I did so on the brink of tears.

After the service, Lucy and Zoe pulled me aside. They told me they just wanted to express their gratitude to me on behalf of the ward counselors. For coming down to the hospital, for being available to them, for being generous. If there is one thing that is humbling, it is when people praise me. I know what goes on inside of my heart, and more than once, I have had to pull myself - no, drag myself - down to the ward, sit down and be available. And then other times, I just hide in my cabin, eat junk food and watch cheesy movies, trying to shrug off just another half hour of doing what I came to do. So when someone calls me available, giving, and responsive, it very humbling.

Sitting in the middle of the empty recovery room, we exchanged stories from the past half year, laughing and crying a little bit too. They presented me with a card as well as many gifts. A dress for me, a small woven wallet, a pair of slippers and the best of all -- a shirt for my 'husband-to-be' (as noted on the card)! Zoe squealed in delight, hiding her face, when I said that Chris would like it so much. I love gifts and it is a love language of mine. But to me it was also a huge act of service. I know how much these things cost, and I know how much their salary is on the ship. It easily cost a week's paycheck.

I was so speechless and am so thankful. I will never understand how I have come to mean so much to them and them to me. And while there were those moments of me hiding in my cabin, I remember that there were also moments that I was happily present, available and without any other place in the world I'd rather be, than knitting with those women and the patients.

Lucy

Of all my Liberian friends, Lucy is the one I am closest with. She's not technically Liberian, but Nigerian, though she has lived in Liberia for quite some years after marrying her late husband.

She is educated, humourous, resourceful, and nurturing. All this and more, rooted in a very deep faith. As a sign of respect, Africans call their female elders, 'mothers' or 'mom'. I have no problem calling her my African 'mom'. I respect her very much and kindness and friendship is priceless. Through her, I have gained so much insight into Liberia, human nature, spirituality and God.

Her late husband, Oliver, was a missionary. They had four children together before he had cancer and died in Oregon while overseas for a conference. While on his death bed, Lucy and her children were in Liberia. Lucy's then four year old daughter walked into the room and said, 'Mama, Daddy is no longer in America. He is with Jesus!' At that moment, the phone rang and Oliver's colleagues telephoned and said that he had just passed away.

He started a church in Paynesville near Monrovia, Liberia. There is a Bible college there and that is where Lucy and her children live. By comparison to other tin shacks in Monrovia, it is a nice cement studio, though the windows are broken and there is no lock on the door. When I visited her, she served me some delicious dried fish and rice. When I tasted it, I smiled and said, 'You made it less spicy because you knew I was coming over!' She chuckled.



Her children range in age from twelve to six, two girls and two boys. All of them go to school. Her ambition is to send them straight through high school. I've been to church with her a couple times, and each time she slips me some Liberian dollars for the offering. She reminds me of my own mother that way, of course, because she too is the mother of two girls and two boys.

Because her husband was a missionary and started several churches in Liberia, she is very well respected. Last month, there was a memorial service for Oliver, during one particular church's anniversary. They called up 'Great grandmother Lucy' and honored her by pinning on flowers and candies.



Lucy once said to me, 'I don't think I will ever go to America, but I will always think of you and pray for you. Because when I think of you, I just feel good.'

I feel the same about you, Mama Lucy.

Hand to the plow

It seems that in the natural order of things, something old must go for something new to happen. Before the beauty of spring, there must be autumn where the leaves turn color and die in the winter. Before the miracle of a child is introduced into the world, there is tremendous pain (and some may say suffering in the nine months previous to that.) Before you reap the fruits of the harvest, you had to spend hours being patient. Your energy was poured into something that may not show evidence of your work until the final moments.

The hardest things in life -- mostly the good things -- require work. And for the good things to exist in our life, sometimes we have to give up what we think is merely good - the old habits, the stubbornness, the old memories -- anything that keeps us from moving ahead.

There is a sacred scripture that reads, 'Anyone who puts their hand to the plow is not fit for the kingdom of God.' The first time I read that, I said, 'So what?' And then one day I read it again, and I understood what it meant -- Be serious about your journey. Look ahead. You cannot drive forward while looking in the rear view mirror. You will crash.

This blog entry all of us who struggle to let go of the comfort of old pain, hopelessness, revenge, bitterness, abusive addiction, and slow, but crippling habits. It is also inspired by those in Liberia whom I've met who have experienced all of that, but just somehow put their hand to the plow, and don't look back because they know a miracle is right around the corner.

7 more sleeps

As Leena would say, 'Seven more sleeps!' That is, seven more days before I leave the ship. That said, there is so much to be done.

I did squeeze in some time for a dental visit. Yes, I needed the work to be done (fractured filling), but also when else was I going to have my teeth worked on by a Swedish hygenist and a Norwegian dentist? It is free (well, part of my crew fees), so I feel like I am living in a Scandinavian country. (And I suppose that's not really free for them anyway, because they pay very high taxes. Anyways.)

On my way out, nursery was in full swing. Snack time!



I have a knitting class with the translators in two hours. They are very determined to make ... socks! (Wonder how they got that idea.)