hungry & falling on my knees

I cannot believe it has been almost 4 years since I stood in front of my home churches in Idaho & New Hampshire announcing that I would be serving as a volunteer, missionary nurse on a ship in Africa! I vaguely remember reading an excerpt from a “Welcome to Mercy Ships Letter” that I received out loud in church as part of my prayer requests as I was heading out into the land of the unknown (life on a ship in Africa). The excerpt I read said “the ship culture is one of constant change: change of location, change of personnel, and change of climate. Relationships, though intense, are often short lived, and this can be emotionally painful. Relationship conflicts are difficult to avoid and need to be worked out which can be a frightening experience for some people. For this reason it is important that crew members are emotionally robust with healthy coping mechanisms…”



I was also informed the “ship environment is hazardous and uncomfortable for various reasons. Decks may be slippery, there are lots of steep staircases, and there are many things to trip over or to hit your head on. The environment is often noisy, which can be mentally exhausting. There are occupational hazards associated especially with technical jobs. Heat can take its toll and dehydration is a risk. Sea travel can result in great discomfort from motion sickness. The ship air conditioning system recycles a high proportion of the air, resulting in frequent exposure to coughs and colds…”


Basically, I had signed up for the adventure of my life…and if I was going to survive life in the metal box, where I would eat, sleep, work, socialize, pray, and share every moment of life together with about 400 other people from 35 different countries; I better have an excellent prayer team... All the challenges the “Welcome to Mercy Ships Letter” explained didn’t even touch on the intensity of working with and among the poorest of the poor, experiencing patient deaths, crew illnesses, having to tell patient after patient that our surgery lists are full and that we have no space to help, having limited supplies, falling in love with chocolate children that the Lord calls home before we are ready to say good-bye, and seeing the intense pain and suffering of a multitude of people right out my window. Yikes!


I actually laughed when I read the letter I had received and knew I had nothing to fear because God would go with me everywhere and I would be able to accomplish whatever he called me too… I still believe and fully know without a doubt that it is God ALONE who enables me to get out of bed every day and it is God ALONE that allows me to perform the work he called me too, but…Yikes!


I have burst into tears 4 times in the last 40 minutes alone and I feel like all my emotional robust, health, vigor, heartiness, strength, toughness, stoutness, spirit, beef, sturdiness, muscle, resilience, and durability have gone out the window! Tomorrow is our last day of surgery for the Sierra Leone 2011 outreach. The hospital officially closes November 25th and we still have many surgical patients desperately in need of miracles so that their wounds heal before the ship sails away in December. Many of my treasured friends are leaving within the next few days and I don’t know if I will ever see them again on this earth. My roommate and current best friend is leaving tomorrow and I will have a new bunkmate within 24 hours time. I also have two huge term papers/reports to write within the next few weeks describing the entire plastic and orthopedic surgery experiences aboard the ship this year and I feel like I have a bad case of senioritis!


To be “emotionally robust” is an understatement for my need at this time. I am hungry…and falling on my knees...as tears roll down my cheeks, I ask you to sing/pray with me & for me, the lyrics to the song I am now listening to…

Hungry (Falling on my Knees) by Kathryn Scott…

Hungry I come to You

For I know You satisfy

I am empty, but I know

Your love does not run dry

So I wait for You

So I wait for You

I’m falling on my knees

Offering all of me

Jesus You’re all

This heart is living for

Broken I run to You

For Your arms are open wide

I am weary, but I know Your touch

Restores my life

So I wait for You

So I wait for You

So I wait for You

So I wait for You

Jesus, I am so blessed to be stressed here in Africa, serving in your precious name. I am blessed that I have friends and family, worlds apart from me, who care enough about me to read this, that support me to be here, and pray for me. Thanks!

My Krio Vocabulary

It seems like just yesterday I got off the airplane and stepped into hot & humid Sierra Leone. How can it be that I have already been here over eight months and in just a short time, my floating home will pull up anchor and sail away? All the Krio I have been learning will need to be put aside and I will have to give French my best shot again as the ship is heading to Togo!



Nonetheless- for the remainder of my time in Sierra Leone I will continue to work on my Krio. Below are a few of the words & phrases I have added to my Krio vocabulary over the past few months. The words and letters are all pronounced just as they sound and look. Try the phrases out for yourself or imagine me running around the ward and the streets of Freetown repeating the phrases.


Mohnin-o- Morning!


Aw di bodi? How are you? Literally how is the body


Di bodi fine, how usef? Not bad, and you?


Ah tel God tehnki- I cannot complain- I tell God thank-you


Di bodi de na klos- Fine- the body is in the clothes


We yu nem- What’s your name?


Ah nem- My name...


Ah gladi foh mit yu- It’s nice to meet you


We go si bak- See you later


Tenki ya- Thank- you


Ah tell yu bohku bohku tenki- I thank you very much


Ah taya- I’m tired


Ah noh get natin- I don’t have anything


Ohmohs ah foh pe? How much do I need to pay?


Aw mus for dis tin ya?- How much does this item cost?


Ah go want mehk yu bi mi gal friend- Will you be my girlfriend?


Nar dis merecine ah for take?- It this the medicine I should take?


Ah get pain na me an, bak, bele, ed, nek, trot- I have been in my hand, back, stomach, head, neck, and throat.


Udat- Who is?


Os- House


Paddy- Friend


Pikin- Children


Yestade- Yesterday


Tide-today


Tumara- tomorrow


Nehxt tumara- Day after tomorrow


How yu slip? How did you sleep?


Mishef, ah noh lek pehpeh plehnti- I don’t like hot pepper too much


Aw di chop? How’s the food.


Ee Gud- It’s good


Yu lehk go wet? Do you need to urinate?


Well, that’s it for now. We go si bak!

hot-pink, ruby-red, cast shoes

I remember seeing him those first few days after his surgery sitting on a small chair with his two little legs and bandaged feet tucked up on the corner of the chair. In reality, I don’t know if he actually understood that he wasn’t allowed to walk or if the pain in his toes and feet kept him from attempting to walk, but there he sat.


Both of his feet had been burned when he was small. One moment he was playing, the next moment his precious chocolate colored skin connected with a boiling liquid and all the skin on his toes burned. He didn’t have the luxury of medical care and over time his burned skin contracted. His toes fused together then folded completely down and under.


The time came for him to start walking, but it was difficult. He attempted to waddle around and eventually learned to mobilize by walking on the sides of his feet. Shoes wouldn’t fit correctly and he didn’t even have individual toes to mangle into a flip-flop so at least the sides of his feet could be protected from constant contact with the hard African soil.


The tiny skin grafts we put between his toes started to heal and the doctor said he could start to walk. My little patient with bandaged toes and feet timidly clung to the wall contemplating if he actually wanted to walk or not. The physical therapist and I encouraged him saying, “Walka- Walka, you can do it, Walka- Walka” which is the Krio way of saying “Walk.” He glanced over his shoulder looking for approval and confidence from his mama. His tall, beautiful, African mother lovingly nodded her head, persuading her son to take his first steps on his new feet and toes. He stumbled, but we encouraged him to keep walking. We held both his hands in ours and encouraged him to walk. The bandages on his feet made him easily loose traction and he sometimes slipped around like he was on and ice-skating rink. I couldn’t help but laugh as he slipped around on the floor in his little hospital gown and bandaged feet. But, each time he fell down we picked him up and encouraged him to keep walking.


Weeks and multiple bandage changes later, one of my co-workers questioned if it was time for our little patient to try wearing a pair of shoes. I called the PT/OT team and told them about our idea. I got sidetracked and involved in other patient care and missed the PT/OT visit, but all I know is one minute my little patient was stumbling around the ward with his little bandaged feet and then almost instantaneously he was running down the hall-way and in and out of the ship stairwells. I could barely keep up with him. My patient had received a brand new pair of tiny, hot-pink, cast shoes- that look like a snazzy pair of orthotic Velcro high-tops. And it was seriously like magic, as soon as he put on the hot-pink shoes, he was in another world, he was free! He ran, jumped, skipped, and rarely slipped. It was like he had found his own pair of Dorothy’s ruby red slippers, clicked his heels together, and was whisked off to another land.


The little cast shoes he put on were not magical, nor ruby-red. On the contrary they were hot-pink, but it was awesome to witness my little patient getting whisked off to another land. Not a magical land called Oz, but the land of healing…and I am so honored that I can witness this healing every day in the place I call my home…there’s no place like home…there’s no place like home….there’s no place like home…

Thanks father in heaven, that because you live in my heart, I can make a home wherever I am. Thanks for my little patient in his hot-pink, ruby- red, cast shoes and that he found healing in my home/your home here on the Mercy Ship.