Aw Rats!

Here are some recent snapshots of the little everyday things.

A midnight rat raid! True was certain he would be able to get it with a flyswatter--or a boot if really necessary! Doesn't he look eager?

Diana and an impromptu art lesson. She plans to teach some art classes to the kids soon.

Wren's first day of school! She is going half days and sitting in the "nursery" class which is 3-6 year olds. Nancy takes her every day and she is really loving it!

Wren and Deborah enjoying coloring on the porch.

Lately some moments between the children have been very sweet.

Nancy is establishing our herb garden-we planted cilantro, basil, summer savory, dill and some others! I can't wait to make pesto!

True helping trim some trees.

Julie and Nancy during our saturday morning small group time-when we really like to check in with each other and ask the question: "Where are you now?"

Psalter has plenty of willing arms to hold him.

Julie's Welcome

By Julie

1/14/14

As I sit on my lower bunk, blue mosquito net swaying slightly beside

me, listening to the drum beats of an African dance party outside my

window, I am struck by how incredibly thankful I am to be here.

MAF Hangar - Wilson Airport

After our arrival in Nairobi we spent 2 days at a Mission Guest House

just outside of town. It was so beautiful! It was also really helpful to have some time to rest and get adjusted to the time difference. On Monday morning we left the guest house and headed to Wilson airport to take an MAF flight to a town just inside the Kenyan border (Migori). It was so much fun to get to take an MAF flight again (even though it made me a bit queasy)—it brought back a lot of fun memories from growing up with a missionary pilot dad :) particularly because the pilot’s daughter was able to join us for the flight—just for the chance to fly with her dad, which I was able to do a few times growing up.

Departing Wilson Airport for Migori, Kenya

Just before takeoff

The youngest flyer

Touchdown!

Ground transport to the village

A ride from City of Hope was waiting for us in Migori to take us

across the border into Tanzania (about 15 min) and then another 45

minutes to City of Hope. Africa is SO beautiful! I loved seeing all

the trees, and the locals going about their days, many of the women

balancing large bags and baskets so perfectly on their heads, all the

dust being kicked up from the dirt roads. There is a side of me that

comes alive in third world cultures that is easily and often lost in

the US. It has been incredibly special to reconnect with that part of

myself. It makes me so happy to watch Wren and True fit so comfortably

into this culture which they have spent part of their very young

lives; I smile knowing they are growing up as Missionary Kids and how

special this time will always be to them.

As we pulled up to City of Hope I could see all the children

in their uniforms standing together, dancing and clapping as they sang

a special welcome song for us. After their song they all rushed toward

us with huge smiles on their faces, eager to ask us our names, hold

our hands and give us hugs. These children are so sweet and welcoming. They offer their love eagerly, without even knowing who you are. They radiate delight and joy, and it makes me eager to learn how to love and experience joy like that; that comes from deep within.

Everything about life is completely different than it was a week ago,

and I am soaking it all in. This morning I enjoyed waking up before

the sun without an alarm – watching the sun bring everything alive,

listening to the birds chirp and the children sing praise songs—it was

the perfect way to start my first full day in the place I will call

home for the next three months. It was fun (and exhausting) to

experience a bit of African life—washing dishes and cleaning out

drawers using large wash bowls outside in the hot African sun (I

forgot sunscreen on the back of my neck—whoops!). I am eager to see

what God has planned for my time here—both the joys and the struggles, the fun things and the hard things.

A friend told me they were praying Ephesians 3:20 for my trip,

and I have adopted that passage as my own prayer for this time as

well: “I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you

with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may

dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted

and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints,

to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ,

and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled

to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to

do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his

power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in

Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.”

Ephesians 3:16-21 (NIV).

Getting There

Written by Julie and Diana

Ty, Joi, the three children, Diana and Julie all left Blacksburg on

January 10th with a very full minivan and a trailer behind loaded with

8 large shipping containers, 1 bicycle and 7 suitcases headed for

Dulles International Airport. After the 5 hour drive we stopped at the

National Air and Space Museum (right next to the airport) to stretch

our legs and let the kids run around.

We got to the airport where we met up with Nancy. Nancy is 19 and is

spending the next few months helping out at City of Hope, especially

with the Hopkins kids. (She will introduce herself a bit more soon!)

It was quite a process to get 8 people checked in and 17 pieces of

luggage checked! But we finally made it to our gate and to our first

flight to Paris, which thankfully was an uneventful 8-hour flight!

Then came Paris…

Paris was not as uneventful! For whatever reason, we were not able to

get our boarding passes for the flight from Paris to Nairobi when we

were in DC. One very important lesson: you can’t go anywhere in an

airport without a boarding pass! We were concerned that if we couldn’t

get the boarding passes in time we would miss our flight, which

would’ve caused a multiple-day delay. After getting sent in different

directions by at least 4 different airport attendants, going up

escalators, down hallways, on one tram and a bus, we finally made it

to the international transfer desk  and made it to our gate with just

minutes to spare. (Along with many other people which we found out

were in the same boat!) Joi was deeply disappointed to miss her chance

to eat a bona fide Parisian croissant.

Then once we were on the plane, we had to wait for a passenger coming

from a delayed flight and sat for an hour and a half before taking

off! Diana really enjoyed having a spiritual conversation during the

flight with an African Catholic nun sitting by her. So after another

long flight we landed in Nairobi much later than anticipated.

Thankfully, the immigration line was shorter than Ty and Joi had ever

seen it, and we were able to get through very quickly!

However, we were some of the last people to leave baggage claim

because of how long it took to get our 17 pieces of luggage, one of

which (the baby stroller) never showed up! The drivers who picked us

up performed a miracle getting all of our luggage into a small van and

a car! So, the flight landed at 11pm, and we didn’t leave the airport

until 1:20am! Needless to say, we were all exhausted by the time we

got to the guesthouse and everybody ended up getting almost 10 hours

of sleep!

We spent Sunday resting and re-packing while Ty ran some errands in

the city, and we leave for Tanzania on a charter flight Monday

morning!

“Now to Him who, by (in consequence of) the [action of His] power that

is at work within us, is able to [carry out His purpose and] do

superabundantly, far over and above all that we [dare] ask or think

[infinitely beyond our highest prayers, desires, thoughts, hopes, or

dreams]—To Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout

all generations forever and ever. Amen (so be it).” Ephesians 3:20-21

(Amplified)

__________________________________________________

Julie is spending the next three months in Tanzania with the Hopkins

as a mission intern. She is 23 and lives in Radford Virginia, working

as a server at Olive Garden. She is taking the next three months to

work at City of Hope with the Hopkins, seeking the Lord and some

clarity for what the future holds for her. She recently graduated with

a degree in Women’s Ministry and is excited to see what opportunities

she will have to use it.

Diana is Joi’s mom and a 63 year old mother of 3 and grandmother of 7.

She is at City of Hope to help out in whatever way she can. She is

praying that God will soften her heart to other cultures and their

other ways of life, and wants to develop more of a heart of compassion

for third world cultures. She is excited to see how God will transform her heart through this experience.

We are off!

We are off for 3 months!  More info to come.

En route to Tanzania via Paris and Nairobi.

Holy Week

It's Holy Week.  We are back in the States.  It's tougher than you might think coming back--much harder than adjusting to being in TZ.  When we come back here, to our native culture, we expect to fit in.  But we find that we don't.  We have changed.  America has gotten perhaps a bit more crazy.  A short anecdote that exemplifies the cognitive dissonance we experience:

Carnival Cruise Lines recently had a ship full of reveling Americans lose power and have to be towed into port.  For a few days, cocktails were not properly cooled and food was not properly hot.  People may have gotten sick.  There were surely other inconveniences.  But I'm pretty sure no one died.  I'm not saying that these people did not have a bummer of a vacation.  They should get their money back and even a free upgraded cruise in the future.  But apparently many of them are suing Carnival for the hardship!  I'll quote a friend's comment on this: "What a first world problem.  'Oh no!  My giant party boat broke down.  What a disaster!'"  I see mini versions of this discordant reality every day, and I find it disconcerting.

To counter that pathetic story, I have a better one I wish I could tell you, but I think I had better not.  It was one of the most memorable moments of my life.  But it took place in South Sudan and I  shouldn't put the details of it on the internet.  Those of you who know me have possibly heard me tell the story.  I won't relate it here, but perhaps I can give you something even better:

The man who is at the nexus of that story--who made a statement that shattered my understanding of what is at stake in the world--will be on 60 minutes this Sunday (Easter) evening on CBS.  His name is Abraham Nhial.  He was one of the Lost Boys of Sudan.  He is now a Bishop of the Anglican Church in South Sudan.  His story is absolutely incredible.  Don't miss him.  You can find out a little bit here: Abraham Nhial on You Tube, and here is a website and book about his story: Lost Boy No More.  He tells his story much better than I can.

We live in two worlds, but they're the same world.  On one side a giant party stalls, and it's considered a disaster.  On the other side, unimaginable suffering and evil on a vast scale is commonplace--it can't even be put into words.  It's tough to digest.

A Terrible Burn (Part 2)

Guest blog post written by Jessica, a 4^th year med student. 

_____________________________________________

Finishing our morning devotions at the clinic, we looked up as a quiet form filled the doorway.  We all smiled to see that the mother and baby were back. Moving into the exam room, we begin the challenging task of taking off the old dressings and cleansing the delicate, burned tissue. This can be one of the hardest parts for both patient and physician as all the skin is raw and tender and has to be cleansed and touched. The baby began to whimper a bit, and all of us began to silently pray, hating the pain that we knew was present, but knowing that the treatment was necessary. As we were working, Megan began subconsciously humming the hymn tune from our devotions, and someone else heard and began to sing. The baby quieted at the sound of the singing, and we were reminded of God again answering prayer. We soon finished, gently applying burn cream and re-wrapping the wounded areas.

A few days later, the family appeared again. We were very glad to see them, as it had been longer than we had hoped between visits. Again, we carefully examined the burned tissue and sang, remarking at changes in the week since this had happened. The baby was healing well, but we were concerned about some high fevers. Malaria was suspected, and we tested the baby’s blood. It was positive for malaria, and we tried to explain to the family how they could build a burn tent to keep the mosquitoes off of the little girl, while allowing the open air to facilitate healing to the wound. (We had been doing a lot of reading on the best way to care for burns and prevent infection in this setting of dust, dirt, mosquitoes, and more.) As the mom and baby prepared to leave, Ty asked if Stephen and I wanted to accompany the mom home so we could check up on them. We eagerly said yes, and hurried to mission house to grab water and a friend who speaks Kouria.

As we followed the mother down the dirt path, I was humbled and amazed. The sun was hot as it beat upon us, and the mother shifted the umbrella over her head, trying to keep the baby on her back comfortable. Though the burn was covered by the mother’s fabric khanga, I wondered at how miserable the baby must feel with her dark skin and fever, and the heat hitting the burn through the fabric. Stephen jotted down landmarks on his tiny notebook, trying to make a map, while I noted the compass bearings. We passed cows and goats, winding paths that snaked off to unseen ends, corn fields and bean plantations as the distance wore on. I soon realized that this mother did not live close to clinic. We had already walked at least a half hour, and didn’t seem to be nearing our destination. My Kiswahili is lousy, and I was unable to say much beyond “What is your name? My name is Jessica. What is this called? Sorry, my Swahili is really little.” So, we largely walked in silence, and I prayed hard for this little baby who was suffering, for her mom who was brave enough to walk for an hour in the sun to carry her little girl to the doctor, for what we might find in the home, and for God to use us an encouragement to the family. I prayed that God would give the mom something to make her smile, as she always looked worried and preoccupied when we saw her. Ironically, she smiled at my weak attempts at Swahili, and I thanked God.

My heart marveled at the strength of this mama. We knew very little about her. I was unsure of whether she was married or not, how many other children she had at home to care for, how old she was, and what she thought of these two wazungu who were walking home with her. I longed to know her story. Did she grow up here? Of course she did. Did she have a husband? Was he a kind man? Did she feel guilty for what had happened to her little girl? Who held the baby when she had to go to the bathroom?

What I did know was that the baby had a mother who loved her, and that her mama was strong. I also knew that her Heavenly Father loved her as well, and that He is strong.

We continued to wind down the path on our curious house call, and I noted the murky bog, mentally dubbed it the “Mosquito Swamp” and silently blamed it for the little girl’s malaria. As the path curved, we turned off to the right, and I realized that the circle of huts we were approaching was our destination. We stooped to walk through the low gate in the fence, and eyed the cow pen and maize drying inside the compound. Four huts stood in a circle with a fence made of branches between them. We were ushered into the first hut, and I was given the lone chair. Two stools were brought for Stephen and  our friend and interpreter, V., and as my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I took note of my surroundings. Old newspapers hung from ropes stretched across the ceiling, and the sparse room held only a small end table and our chairs. In the midst of such a spartan home, I was surprised by the terracotta colored paintings that covered the cream colored walls. Unsure of how to proceed, we began to ask the mom some of our questions through the interpreter, and she started to relax within the walls of her own home. She was surprised to learn that Stephen and I were married, and we learned that her husband was working in the field. A neighbor stopped in and greeted us warmly in English and told us that it was an honor to have us in their community. We thanked him, and said that we were honored to be there.

Before long, we set out to gather sticks to build a burn tent for the baby to sleep under. Having gathered enough, we asked if there was twine or rope to lash it together. The mom stood on the stool, and carefully reached up to a board that formed a makeshift ceiling, taking down a very neatly rolled bundle of twine. Thanking her, we set to work. Her husband came home in the process and began to help, an action that spoke volumes to us about his care for his wife and daughter. He was very appreciative. I tried to hold the baby, but she looked at me suspiciously and cried, so I handed her back to her mom. Having accomplished our task, we asked if we could pray with them, and did so.  We told the parents that we were very pleased with how the baby was healing, and that we would continue to pray for God to heal her more. We prayed with confidence, because after all, we had already seen Him answer a great many prayers for this precious little girl. Knowing that the sun would soon be on its journey home, we headed that direction as well, rejoicing that we serve a God who cares about a family with a little girl with a severe burn living in middle of a corn field in Tanzania. 

Tending the wounds 

House Calls!

The Mosquito Swamp

Making Burn Tent

Burn Tent - This will have a khanga
(piece of fabric wrapped on top of it).

Making House Calls

An All Too Common Story - Part 1

Written by Jessica Morse, 4^th year medical student at VCOM

It was our third day here when we first met her. The mama had come to the hospital and was sitting in her brightly colored kanga in our intake area with the baby on her lap. I didn’t think much of it initially, as I was gathering supplies to suture someone in the next room. However, as I walked passed, the mama dropped the kanga from around the baby, revealing a severe burn. I winced. Burns are exceedingly painful, and this one was really bad. 

Most of the baby’s back and a significant portion of her trunk had been scalded. Hot cornmeal porridge (uji) is a staple here, and this little girl had somehow managed to pull a whole pot of it down on herself. 

Concerned, our team assessed and tended the wound in conjunction with the Tanzanian attending doctor. I came back in the room just as they finished dressing the wound, and we gave the mother instructions to return the following morning. Later, when we discussed the case with Ty, we came to realize how life-threatening burns like this can be in this setting. The mama and baby had already left the clinic to go back home, and we tried to figure out the best way to contact them to “admit” them to the hospital overnight for observation. Landline phones are non-existent, as are addresses. Someone had seen the family make a left turn out of the clinic. We decided to send our night guard after the family to ask them to return sooner. He set off down a narrow dirt path between two cornfields as dusk settled in. Unable to do anything more, we began to pray- to pray that he would find them, to pray that they would know how important it was to come back, to pray that God would somehow intervene in this little girl’s life, to pray that He would heal her, to pray that she would make it through the night.
Several hours later, as we joined the children at City of Hope for their evening music and dancing, we saw Dr. Ben come and get Ty. Though I was tired, I waited up, hoping to hear news of the little girl. 

I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard that they had found her, that the family was willing to spend the night at the hospital, that the burn looked better than Ty had initially anticipated. God had answered the first of our prayers.