Los Niños de Tus Ojos

     I carefully climbed down the steep embankment of the canal, cautiously maneuvering my feet on the slippery surface, knowing that with one wrong step I would slide down the steep ridge and land in the murky, litter strewn, brown water below. I gripped the bottom side of the bridge to steady myself as I descended toward the canal. I stepped over the cement ledge and onto the dirt ridge under the bridge. Ever away of the sheer drop to my left, I slowly inched my way along under the trusses of the bridge on my hands and stomach. The space between my face and the dirt was too close for comfort. Old watermelon rinds and bits and pieces of rubbish were only inches from my face and I forced myself not to think about the human waste I could be crawling through. A voice from somewhere in the dark yelled “tengo hambre (I’m hungry)” and a few seconds later I heard other voices echoing the same sentiment.
     I continued creeping along the dirt ridge under the bridge and I soon reached a small opening where I could almost stand-up. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness around me, I saw a small platform about 3 feet wide by 4.5 feet long tucked back further under the bridge. On the platform I saw an extremely worn blanket and a disheveled figure. The figure stretched their hand toward me and I gladly took it into mine. I held the thin hand for a minute, released it, and breathed a sigh of relief; I had been wondering how this street person would accept our intrusion in her home and her handshake confirmed our presence was approved.
     After conversing with YWAM Bolivia’s Mercy Ministry Staff who founded “Operation Restoration,” a charity that works to help rescue young people from the streets that are imprisoned by drugs, addiction, human trafficking, and poverty, we learned that the woman we were visiting was pregnant, but she had been bleeding for the past few days. Our purpose for visiting her that day and the others living under the bridge was to offer them a chance at life, in Jesus’ name, no strings attached. We were prepared to offer the people we came into contact with free medical assistance if needed, food, lodging, education, safety, counseling, and most importantly, Jesus’ unconditional love. I was so excited about the opportunity to offer life, in every aspect; to the woman we were visiting.
     As a small breeze stirred up the smell of the rotting garbage around me I refocused my eyes on the young woman in front of me. I continued to listen to the homeless woman mumble in Spanish as my friend held her in an embrace. I thought I was understanding what the tattered woman was saying, but then my brain went numb for a minute, “did I understand the Spanish correctly, no, I must have lost something in translation,” the emaciated woman before my eyes, had just turned down a chance for life. She didn’t want to leave the streets. How could that be? Why would this obviously hungry, broken woman, want to remain on the streets? Why would she want to continue living without food, water, a toilet, electricity, and medical care? I could not believe it; I had heard correctly, the woman did not want to leave her life on the streets.
     We stayed with the woman a little longer, offering the only thing she would take from us, our presence, loving touch, and friendship. Next the woman asked for something that surprised me, she wanted us to sing a song called “La Niña de tus Ojos (the daughter of your eyes)” by Daniel Calveti. Thankfully, our group knew the song she requested and we started singing to her. We sang in Spanish- “You see me when no one else notices me, You have loved me when nobody has loved me, You have given me a name, I am the daughter of Your eyes because You have always loved me, You have given me a name, and I am the daughter of Your eyes because You have always loved me, I love You more than my life, I love You more than my life, I love You more than my life, and You have given me a name.” While we were singing, I caught a glimpse of my new friend’s face in the shadows of darkness and I noted tears were streaming down her dirt stained face. She reached for my hand and I held it tightly for a minute before, she reached to touch another one of my friends. We sat surrounding this broken woman with love and care and she wept. She eagerly accepted our offer to pray with her and we lifted up her needs and concerns to our Father in Heaven, the Father who sees everyone when no one else does, and the Father that gives us a name, and calls us the apple of his eye. What a powerful moment.
     A few more minutes passed with us crouched in the dark and then, with tears still streaming down her face, our new friend stood and hugged us good-bye. We took this as our signal to leave and we left with the promise to visit again. I carefully crawled my way out from under the bridge and I stepped into the bright sun light. For a second, I was totally blinded by the light and I remembered a few scriptures that I have heard a million times, but all of a sudden they took a new meaning for me- the light has shinned into the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it, the god of this age has blinded many… As my eyes adjusted to the light and I returned to the YWAM base, I thanked God for loving me and I prayed, “Lord, may your light shine into the canals and streets of Santa Cruz, so that los niños de tus ojos will be able to see the Light of the Son!’

I Fall Asleep the Second my Head Hits the Pillow!

Any of you wondering what I am up to? Well, welcome to my world:
Monday- Friday
 6:30 am Rise and shine (I understand the rise part, but shine?)
 7:00 am Breakfast (Get there on time or the boys eat all the food! Breakfast normally consists of rolls that have been bought from the store around the corner. The store is normally, a little shop in front of someone’s house. We also have butter and jam with little ants crawling all over the jar, yummy!)
 7:30-8:30 am- Quiet Time with God
 8:35- 9:35 am- Class
 15 minute break! One of my personal highlights of the day, but I normally have to spend my break time running to the bathroom (trying to remember my toilet paper) and filling up my water bottle. It is so hot, I need to drink a lot of water, I don’t want a repeat of kidney stones, and I have been out of school for awhile, so I struggle staying awake in class if I don’t drink water to stay awake! Speaking of water, that is another interesting topic. After a few days here, I learned that my room and board fees don’t include the cost of clean drinking water. Also, if I want clean drinking water, I need to find it and buy it myself. This has been a very interesting concept and cultural learning experience. The majority of the time, there is hot, boiled water for me to drink, with meals, but I am not big on hot beverages even when it is cold so, the last thing I want to drink when it is 95 plus degrees outside with about 95% humidity is hot coffee or tea! Holy cow! Praise God, I recently managed to connect with a water company and I am now having water delivered to my home here. I pay $2 USD for 20 liters of water. I was also able to rent a little stand from the company that helps me dispense the water so I don’t have to tip the huge jug over every time I want water. I then transfer the water into my water bottle and cool it in the fridge with my name on it. If I don’t put my name on it, it is as good as gone! Exhausting!  Many of you may be wondering why I don’t boil my water and then put that in the fridge.  Well, with the schedule I am currently keeping, I have little time to boil water. Oh, I know, I don’t need to watch it boil, and as my brother reminded me, it won’t boil if I watch it anyway, but if you store the boiled water here for too long, like 1 day, a funky layer of scum and white floaty things forms on the water, and yes, I am picky… I don’t want to drink water like that!
 9:50-10:45 am- Class
 15 minute break!
 11:00 am -12:45pm- Class
 12:45 pm- Lunch (I have been extremely relieved to learn that Bolivians don’t eat a lot of fish or goat! Praise the Lord! The main food here is chicken and some sort of pasta or rice! Not bad at all! The first week here, I was totally enjoying the food and the fact that I didn’t have to eat fish, so I didn’t notice we weren’t eating any fruits, vegetables, or milk products. I let a few more days pass, waiting to see if the missing food groups would appear, but they didn’t and that is when I learned fruits, veggies, and dairy products are not really included in the diet that I will be eating here in Bolivia, yet another interesting learning experience. So, to ward off osteoporosis and another pile of health problems, I have the privilege of figuring out how to get a supply of fruit, vegetables, and dairy products and I have to pay for them myself (also not included in my room and board). There is an amazing grocery store down the road, but having time to get there is difficult. I often use a large part of my weekend to obtain fruit.  Once I get it, I soak it in a bleach solution to make sure I don’t eat any nasty invisible bugs, if you know what I mean. Oh, I love the challenge of living in a foreign country!
 1:30- 2:45 pm- Daily work duties (We rotate jobs every two weeks; praise God, because my current work duty is cleaning the bathrooms! Yikes!)
 15 minute break!
 3:00- 5:00 pm- Preparation for outreach, learning dramas, writing puppet shows, sports, personal study time, or class (activities alternate daily throughout the week)
 5:00- 6:00 pm Prayer group or small group time
 30 minute break (During this break I am frequently found outside near the faucet, sticking my entire head under the water, just to cool off! My hair dries in like 2 minutes and then I am hot all over again, so I repeatedly stick my head in the water again and again for my entire 15 minute break).
 6:30 pm- Dinner
 7:30- 10:00 pm One-on-one mentoring, chapel, street work, or homework time (activities alternate every few days throughout the week)
 10:30 pm Lights out (As soon as my mosquito net is securely tucked into my bed, I turn my fan on, and I fall asleep the second my head hits my pillow!)

I Enjoy Working With Monkeys

Current Status:
1. Roasting...But thanking God for my fan! If I didn't have my fan, I would have already melted for certain...
2.  Enjoying my mosquito net... Current mosquito bite count...maybe one.. mosquito nets really work...go figure.
3.   Busy- I only get a few 15 minute breaks a day from 6:30am- 10:30pm, not much time to write, sorry.
4.   Speaking Spanish- More or less.. things are going really well in this area. God has blessed me with courage to put myself out there and use the words I have and I am learning new words every day. I haven't made any huge mistakes yet, but the other day, I told the pastor at one of the churches here that I am a nurse, so I enjoying working with monkeys. I meant to say my hands, but the word for monkeys in Spanish (monos) is very close to the word for hands (manos), my bad... we all had a good laugh.
5. Learning- I am learning so much. The class sessions I am attending are intense. I am learning a lot about God and a lot about myself.
6. Hoping- I am hoping to get the chance to actually write a proper blog again in a few days.
7. Blessings- To all of you! Thanks for your prayers and support. I love you all.

A Princess In Her Pink Palace

      My night of sleep was less than restful. The heat and humidity were relentless. I wanted to toss and turn, but opted for laying still, hoping in that position I would cool off and find some relief from the heat swarming around my body. It didn’t work. As I lay on my bed sweating and itching my mosquito bites I decided to get up and go to the bathroom, hoping if I emptied my bladder I would sleep better. I slowly walked through my bedroom, trying not to wake my roommates that were naturally more accustomed to the heat and were sleeping soundly. I prayed there weren’t any cockroaches or spiders lurking in the dark waiting to surprise me. I made it safely to the bathroom. I finished my business and then realized I had a problem. “Oh, man,” I said out loud. I couldn’t believe it, I had done it again! Once again, I was caught in the bathroom without toilet paper. Man, it was like the 3rd time in a matter of days. It wasn’t as if there was toilet paper in the hall closet and someone had forgotten to restock the bathroom supply, no, the fact was, I was still struggling to remember toilet paper isn’t supplied or provided for me here (room and board here in Bolivia doesn’t include toilet paper). There is no toilet paper on the dispenser next to the toilet, you have to provide your own paper and remember to bring it with you on each trip you take to relieve yourself. I will spare you of the details of what I did when I realized I had nothing to wipe with, but needless to say, my brief moment of relief and relaxation quickly left when I realized I had nothing to wipe with. Still hot and sticky, I stumbled back to my bed and attempted to sleep again.

     After a few days of being in Bolivia, I was getting better at remembering to bring my toilet paper with me everywhere, but I was still roasting at night, and not sleeping the best. I decided I HAD to find a fan. I contemplated attempting to be brave, strong, and like a real missionary, taking the heat, and making the best of it, but quickly dismissed that thought and decided if I didn’t sleep well each night, I would be worthless during the day. I determined my only free day for the week would be spent searching high and low for a fan! I also decided to put a mosquito net on my list of things to buy. Considering my current mosquito bite count was 50 (yes, I actually counted all my bites one by one!) 50 bites in less than 3 days!
     The days and nights seemed to pass so slowly, but finally my first weekend arrived. I was exhausted from the travel from the States, the sleepless nights, intense classroom sessions, and language challenges, and all I want to do was sleep for hours, but I shrugged off my tiredness for the greater good of obtaining a fan! I traveled to the market and praise God; I found a fan and a mosquito net too! Mission accomplished! I thought about exploring town a little more, but all I really wanted to do was return back to the YWAM base, to set up my mosquito net and fan, so that’s what I did.
     As soon as I got back to the base, I assembled my fan and obtained instructions on how to hang my mosquito net. I eagerly anticipated bedtime. Finally, a few hours later, bedtime arrived. I climbed into bed grinning from ear to ear. I turned on my new fan, that I had conveniently positioned at my feet, I tucked myself in, making sure my mosquito net was securely tucked around my entire bed, I was determined to ensure I would no longer be mosquito meat, and I rested my head on my pillow. Glorious! Awesome! I felt like a princess as I lay on my bed surrounded by my pink-mosquito net canopy, which coordinated nicely with my sheets, I might add. Excellent! And with the cool air of my fan sending soothing breezes in my direction, I fell asleep in my pink palace.

A Greeting From A Cockroach

     I awoke to the sound of the pilot’s voice over the intercom. Although my vision was foggy and my eyelids were pretty much stuck together, I caught a glimpse of the majestic Andes’ Mountains out the airplane window. The grand white peaks towered above the surrounding red earth. The mountain’s grandeur is indescribable, but grander yet, in my eyes, was the fact that seeing the Andes meant my 24 hours of travel were almost over. I would soon be on the ground and my body was really looking forward to laying horizontal. As the airplane screeched to a halt on the runway I took a deep breath. Another cross-cultural adventure in my walk of faith with God had just begun.
     A wave of heat and humidity hit me in the face as soon as I got off the airplane. Oh, my goodness! Talk about hot! Praise God, I obtained a visa without difficulty and the immigration official waved me on toward baggage claim, ushering me into another life adventure. Holá Bolivia! I claimed my luggage, cleared customs, and connected with my new family outside the airport. After an enjoyable, amazingly spacious (there were only 3 passengers total in the taxi, a nice change from the cramped cabs in Africa) 30 minute taxi ride, we pulled in front a fair sized, gated, two story house with a sign in front of it reading: Juventud Con Una Misión, Bolivia (Youth with a Mission, Bolivia- YWAM), my new home.
     The base leader here at YWAM escorted me to my room and gave me permission to un-pack, shower, and settle in. I was the first girl to arrive so I earned the privilege of picking my bunk-bed, first. I took a few steps into my new sizeable room and received a greeting from a cockroach. Oh, dear! Forcing the image of the punk cockroach out of my mind, I went about the process of selecting my bed. With heat soaring through my veins, I went directly for the bunk in front of the door, hoping that in that bed there may be some blessed cross- breeze in the middle of the night. I was getting ready to put my sheets on the bed when I looked closely at the window right above the headboard and noted there was no screen. Okay, breeze or not, no screen on the widow, a perfect entrance for insects, particularly mosquitoes…you following me??? I believe my time in Bolivia will be an adventure, but I don’t want malaria to be part of it! Therefore, I ended up settling for the bed in the far corner, near a window WITH a screen.
     I began the un-packing process, but I did not get very far; I unpacked just enough of my suitcase to find a towel, washcloth, showering items, and a change of clothing. The base leader had told me I could flip a switch on the shower apparatus, to get hot water, but I certainly didn’t need hot water, considering I was almost certain that drops of cold water could have boiled on my skin. As the cool shower water reached my skin, a smile of pure satisfaction spread across my face. I stayed in the shower for awhile, until I felt thoroughly cooled off, then I reluctantly turned off the tap. I took my towel, dried, myself, and tried stay cool by picturing the piles of snow I had left behind only hours before. But, before the images of the snow banks could form in my mind, I was wet with sweat again! Yikes!
     Throughout the rest of the day and evening, I worked on un-packing a few more items, I survived and actually enjoyed my first meal, and then headed to bed. I lay in my bed sweating and wondering what in the world I had gotten myself into to. But, you know as they say, “time will tell” and I will do my best to keep you posted during that time. Blessings!

What is Laura up to?

     I sat in front of the nursing desk on the ward. I reviewed the patient census and looked at staffing for the night shift. With the recent addition of three crew members in the ICU with malaria, staffing was going to be tight. As I allocated patients for night duty, a new nurse, with a European accent, asked for my assistance in determining an IV drip rate manually, being from a first world country, she was not used to counting IV drip rates, in her hometown, a machine normally did the counting. After setting up the IV, I snatched a precious black baby off the ward floor and smothered the baby with kisses. Although I could not communicate with the baby’s mom, she gave me an affirming look as I used charades to ask permission to take the baby down the hall with me. I carried the baby in my arms toward the pharmacy. It was after hours and as charge nurse, I held the keys to the pharmacy. As I was retrieving the med one of the ward nurses had asked for, my pager beeped. It was the security guard from the gangway calling; a patient was outside the ship needing help.
     On my way to the gangway, I delivered the med I had retrieved to the ward and I found a translator to accompany me to the gangway. Outside the ship, near the gangway, I found a shy, African woman, with fabric wrapped around her head and neck; she timidly curtsied as I approached. With my translator’s assistance, I learned the woman had traveled two days to seek help from the ship. When I asked the woman what troubled her, she cautiously pulled back the brightly colored fabric that covered her neck. The mass she had hidden under her scarf was at least the size of a grapefruit, she definitely needed help. I arranged lodging for the woman and gave her an appointment card to return to the ship the next day. My heart was heavy as I spoke with her, I knew our surgery schedule was almost full, I did not know if we would actually be able to help her. With the woman’s permission, I took her hands in mine and prayed God’s will be done in the situation. I returned to the ward, ordered patient meals for the next day, printed out the night nurses’ patient assignments, kissed a few more babies, fetched supplies, sorted out translator needs, and ended my evening charge nurse shift.
     I love my job and the volunteer work I do with Mercy Ships, www.mercyships.org, the faith-based, charitable, non-governmental organization/hospital ship that travels the world bringing hope and healing by offering FREE world-class health care to the world’s forgotten poor/ my home for the past 17 months. My time in Africa, aboard the ship, has been absolutely amazing. In Jesus’ name, it is my pleasure and joy to live in close quarters, in a foreign country, working for free, away from the comforts of home. I absolutely love being involved in medical missions and I am truly living out my childhood dream. At the same time, the work I do is intense, demanding, and strenuous. I love what I do so much; it is time for a change and I am journeying to South America.
     I know many of you are probably confused and wondering why I would be leaving Africa if I love it so much. Honestly, this past year was very emotionally, mentally, and spiritually taxing for me. But, I know, without a doubt, that God has called me to more years of medical mission work and to fulfill that call, I need some more spiritual renewal and training. I must fill up before my tank is empty, so that I can give back more in the future. Therefore, I will be taking the next 5 months to refuel-train in Santa Cruz, Bolivia with a group called Youth With A Mission (YWAM), www.ywam.org the very organization that actually birthed Mercy Ships. The mission of YWAM is to “know God and make him known.” I have enrolled in YWAM’s “Discipleship Training School.” I will spend the majority of my 5 months with YWAM in a classroom setting studying topics such as the character of God, forgiveness, restoration, hearing the voice of God, missions, service, and the Holy Spirit. There are over 150 YWAM centers-bases around the world where one can receive Biblical training, but each base also has a specific ministry-service area or focus. Bolivia is one of the few YWAM bases with a medical ministry. YWAM Bolivia has a medical van that travels around providing care to street kids. During evenings and weekends, I hope to be involved with this ministry as well as working with other youth that have been rescued from the streets, the life of drugs and addiction, or trafficking.
     I am excited about this next chapter in my life. I know many of you may be wondering why I don’t just step-back and return to the USA for a break. Great question, I have no intellectual answer for you, except, that is not where God is leading me. God is the master designer of our lives. I believe he is weaving together a beautiful tapestry out of your life and mine. Sometimes he uses the same color for a long time, other times; he intertwines little splotches of color, life chapters here and there, into the design. I trust he knows what he is doing. Kansas-Idaho-Canada-New Hampshire-Africa-Bolivia… I am okay with that!
     I would appreciate your continued thoughts and prayers as I head to Bolivia. There are a number of ways you can pray for me:

1. Pray for my health- Considering I will now be living on land & off the ship, I will be exposed to many more tropical infections that my body is not immune to.

2. Pray for my safety- I will be flying, driving, walking, traveling, not always in the safest territory, and it goes without saying, I need the Lord’s protection.

3. Pray for my YWAM team - Pray for our unity, strength, faith, & energy as we serve.

4. Pray for cultural adjustments- I will be continuing to learn Spanish. Pray for my relationships as a single woman, as I attempt to build friendships with the Bolivians and my team.

5. Pray for my future direction- My 5 months with YWAM will go quickly. What’s next…Do I return to the ship? Enroll in a tropical nursing course to gain more understanding of the illnesses I encounter? Do I apply to a land-based mission hospital?


In His Service,
Laura Ziulkowski

Question: What do you miss most while you are in Africa or away from the states?

Answer: I live quite comfortably on the Africa Mercy, I cannot complain...  I have learned that what we as humans may want... I don’t really need. And what I need is a lot less than I thought… I have everything I need. It helps that I absolutely love what I do… I rarely have time to think about what I don’t have. But, for your entertainment…Since being home, there are some things that I realized I sort of missed while I have been away…

My Top-Ten List of things I’ve sort of Missed

1.    Bath Tubs- What an amazing invention! Something really missed when one doesn’t feel well.  One time my Irish roommate and best friend from the ship wasn’t feeling well.  Considering I am a nurse, I wanted to comfort her and help out.  So, I asked Jane if she wanted to take a bath. Her pale face lit up and she said, “Yes, but where? We don’t have bath tubs on the ship?” With a compassionate tone of voice, I told her, “Go into our shower, run the water, and sit on the drain.” Okay, maybe that was a less than compassionate approach, but after Jane finished yelling at me, she laughed her head off. Laughter is the best medicine! I am thankful to have bath tubs again!  

2.    Couches long enough for me to stretch out on

3.    Fresh fruit- Especially berries

4.    Milk products- Never thought I would say that one… I grew up on powered milk, so I thought I could handle any milk, but I was never able to adjust to the boxed milk on the ship with a shelf life of like 100 years! I am thankful for real milk, cheese, yogurt, and ice cream!

5.    Driving fast- I’ve missed driving fast. It’s not the speed limits are low in Africa… but there are too many potholes, goats, or small children running across most roads that by the time you reach any significant speed, you must slow down so you don’t hit anything.

6.    Changing seasons- Although I have been complaining about the cold; fall and winter are actually my favorite seasons.  Perpetual summer is HOT at times!

7.    Unlimited access to food- This is actually dangerous!

8.    Salad- But you already knew that

9.    Walking down the street unnoticed- Although, this is one of the things that makes me saddest about our country, our independence and disregard for others, I do enjoy walking down the street or being in the grocery store without having someone yell, “White woman… give me something… help me… take me to America… take me to your ship!” Yes, sometimes I like to live a typical “normal” life.

10. Home- I put this one in there for all of you that may feel offended or hurt that I haven’t mentioned missing my family or home… I love my parents, friends, church families, and adopted families across this world, you guys are amazing! You are the ones that have given me roots and wings. You have provided me with financial support so that I can go where God wants me. You are the ones who taught me the definition of “home.”  But I don’t miss home.

This is something I think I wrote a few months ago and maybe it will help you understand where I am coming from… I think it was an exercise that I had to write when I was at Gateway in January 2009. Something I would want said of me when the Lord takes me home… “A mother to the motherless, although Laura traveled frequently, ‘home’ is something she brought with her, simply by being who she was.”  I truly feel I am at home whenever I am with God’s people, wherever I am, home is something I carry with me in my heart.

I know many of you have been wondering what I have been up to lately. Well, I have been sleeping, resting, sleeping, visiting many of you, sleeping, and traveling to Washington, D.C., Pennsylvania,  New Hampshire, Vermont, and finally to Idaho where I am currently. I have been spending many hours stretched out on the couch and enjoying many of the things I told you I’ve sort of missed!

I see people...not numbers...

The official statistics have been gathered (if you are interested in that kind of thing...note they are the official statistics, but could still be slightly wrong)… I see people…not numbers… Each and every person we were privileged to work with is unique, special, and loved by God. Their tears, smiles, laughs, and hugs are forever etched on my heart! I pray that the impact Mercy Ships made in Benin will ring throughout eternity!

996 reconstructive and plastic surgeries, 185 cleft lip and palate repairs, 1161 general surgeries, 2 local surgeons trained, 3,521 cataracts removed, 570 other eye surgeries, 2 local eye surgeons trained, 33,851 eye evaluations and other treatments, 7,083 pairs of sunglasses distributed, 5,689 pairs of reading glasses distributed, 18 community eye field workers trained, 154 obstetric fistulas repaired, 4 local surgeons trained in fistula repair, 231 orthopedic operations, 10,175 dental patients seen, 794 dental hygiene patients, 13,174 oral health education, 25 oral health teachers trained, 2 dental assistants trained, 28 patients received palliative home care, 6 Burkitt's Lymphoma patients received palliative support, 19 families trained in wound care, 10 agricultural staff trained, 23 local agricultural students attended the first agricultural training term, 1 dorm constructed for the agricultural college, 19 mental health workers trained, 119 church & community leaders trained in mental health care, 50 prison officers and workers trained in mental health care, 2 church leader's conferences held and attended by 602 people, and most importantly... at least 12,000 people watched the Jesus Film and many made a commitment to Christ!

Jet-Lagged Missionary Doormat

I have been traveling for and least 27 hours now, I am totally exhausted and not home yet. I am entirely confused. I am not sure if I am coming or going. The weariness in my bones tells me I have been all over the place and the fact that there are different languages around prompts me to accept the fact that I am not in Africa anymore, but at the same time, I am not entirely sure. Cotonou, Paris, London, Chicago, Baltimore, I am almost to my final destination. Holy cow! Wow! All I can say is I have sure looked and smelled better in my life. Good thing I do not have a boyfriend waiting to greet me on the other end of my jet-lag, he would straight up disown me for my stench and my brain dead state of mind.

To my dismay, but as a convenient entertainment piece for others, a jet-lag haze hit me after merely completing the first 6 hours of my journey home to America. Apparently the flight from Benin to France took more out of me than I expected. I was slightly dazed and confused when we arrived in Paris, but I managed to find the correct gate for the next portion of my journey. I was tired and a little miffed when I walked down the jet-way toward the plane door, because I was certain, I could have had a more direct route home. Why did I have to go from Paris then to London to get to America? I think it had something to do with my ticket being for humanitarian aid workers… great… I was tired and just dreaming of being done with my anticipated 30 hours of travel when the Air France airline stewardess greeted me. She was really chipper and had a huge smile on her face as she welcomed me onto the plane. She put out her hand, greeted me, and I grabbed her hand to shake it- as per the African routine I have been following for the past 17 months. Everyone shakes hands in Africa and no business is conducted in Africa unless you great each other and shake hands first. Well, you can try to conduct business without greeting people first, but you don’t get very far and it isn’t suggested. -- But, back to the story at hand. I was sort of confused as to why the stewardess was shaking hands, but I just thought she was overly friendly and I would roll with it. As soon as my hand hit hers, there was an awkwardness, I thought maybe I didn’t grip her hand correctly, so I tried to shake it again, but that is when I realized she really didn’t want to shake my hand, she was putting her hand out to look at my ticket and direct me to my seat. Oops! I have been in Africa far too long, I felt like a small idiot, but when I finally got my act together and handed her my ticket so she could direct me to my seat, she had a huge smile on her face and all those around me had a good laugh.

I found my seat, threw my pillow on it, and headed to the bathroom before I settled in for the 9 hour flight from London to Chicago. The flight attendant had informed me that I had a window seat. I was pretty stoked about that. I love window seats because there I can sleep more comfortably, but I always feel awkward asking the isle person to move so I can go to the bathroom, so I decided to hit the bathroom before the flight took off. Upon returning from the bathroom, I was slightly irked to find a man had moved my pillow and he was sitting in my window seat! “What a punk,” I thought. I decided to be gracious or a “missionary doormat” and let the man sit in my seat, besides in my jet-lag state, I wasn’t actually sure I had read my ticket assignment correctly. I was getting ready for a snooze in my NON-window seat, when my “seat thief” decided to introduce himself. I really didn’t want to strike up a conversation with the man who nicked my seat, but then I paused for a minute… his accent sounded oddly familiar and comforting... It wasn’t a British accent, not French, not Australian… then it hit me. He had an IRISH accent! Oh, what comfort! For those of you who have forgotten, my dear friend, roommate, and best mate from the ship was Jane, an Irish girl! My travel seat companion was from Ireland. It was great to hear his accent. I feel as if God hand-picked my seat assignment and to help make my departure from the ship and best friend a little easier. I think it was God also smiling on the Irish man because had he been an American, I wouldn’t have tolerated his seat-thievery!

I made it safe and sound to Chicago. Praise God! I looked at my flight information on my ticket and my airplane to Baltimore was supposed to take off 50 minutes after I landed in Chicago. How in the world was I going to clear immigration, customs, gather my luggage, re-check my luggage, change terminals, go through security, and board my airplane in 50 minutes? I decided it was a good thing I had my running shoes on… by the way… I didn’t want to wear them, I hate shoes! I much prefer flip-flops, but my suitcases weighed too much, so I had to wear my heaviest shoes! So, once I left the airplane door. I started running.

My interactions in the Chicago airport were comical. It started with the immigration officer. He was staring at my passport photo trying to figure out if I was actually the person in the photo. For a passport photo, mine isn’t too bad, but the look on the immigration officer’s face spoke volumes. I just tried to smile to hurry the process. He just kept starring at me. I said, umm… and kept smiling. Maybe I shouldn’t have smiled… I probably had rancid breath. But, the officer kept staring. I said, “I know I look a little different right now.” That was an understatement. He said, “That’s okay, I am sort of old-fashioned, I think it is better when girls look natural, without all that make-up. That way when they get married and wake up next to their husband the next morning, he doesn’t say, ‘who the heck are you?’” Interesting…either way, I am glad the immigration officer approved of my “natural” wicked, tired look and stamped my passport so I could keep running to catch my airplane.

With haste, I gathered my luggage and headed toward customs with my custom’s form in hand. For those of you who haven’t traveled internationally, there is a custom’s form that everyone is required to fill out when traveling internationally. It has a bunch of questions about where you have been, if you are bringing weapons, money, or weird things into the United States. There is also a portion that asks if you were with animals, on a farm, or basically playing with creatures that might carry scary things like swine-flu or other diseases, while you were out of the country. I thought long and hard about this question, but considering almost every street in Benin had chickens and goats running around and I was certain I had stepped in their waste, not to mention the human waste all over the roads as well, I figured I better at least forewarn the custom’s officer. I could be carrying some interesting bacteria. I also spent some time volunteering and working on the farming project that Mercy Ships was developing in a village outside of Benin. I had no excuse, I couldn’t lie; my shoes and clothing had spent a large portion of time in goat and chicken land, and I most definitely rolled around in African dirt. I approached the custom’s officer and she looked at me and my form. She noted I had checked the section about being with animals and on farmland. She asked me where I had been. I told her, “Africa.” She said, “Explain.” I kindly told her, “Most of West Africa is a farm… with chickens and goats running all over the place.” She asked me a few more questions, I talked a little more about goats and chickens, she took my custom’s form, signed it, wrote “Goats,” in big letters on it, and waved me through. Good thing custom’s forms aren’t report cards because if they were, the only thing my report card for the past 9 months would say is… GOATS!

Immigration done, luggage gathered, customs cleared, luggage re-checked, terminals changed, crap… I had fifteen minutes until my airplane departed and I hadn’t gone through security yet. There were about 100 people in front of me in the security line. There was no way I would make my flight at that rate. I decided to get over my gracious “missionary-doormat” behavior and I politely, with the help of two security officers, moved my way to the front of the line. The last boarding call for my flight was being announced as I cleared security. I didn’t take time to put my sweatshirt back on, my shoes were untied, my belt was thrown over my shoulder, my pillow, with my computer tucked in it was under my arm, and my large backpack was hanging off my shoulder as I ran toward my departure gate. I wasn’t about to extend my travel time by missing my flight! Out of breathe, terribly sweaty, and looking like death, I made it onto the plane with NO minutes to spare.

I felt awkward walking down the plane isle with everyone staring at me. I was certain they were thinking…”stupid girl… holding the plane up… she should have managed her time better… I bet she is irresponsible… an un-fit mother…” okay, well they probably didn’t think that, but you get the idea. I felt bad for arriving late. Toward the rear of the plane, I found my seat. Well, another man had stolen my window seat again, but that was way beside the point. The stewardess stared at me, helped me find a place for my over-sized backpack, and told me to take my seat. I was still huffing and puffing from my marathon through the airport when I turned to get into my seat and dropped my passport and all my previous boarding passes all over the place. Oh, great. The stewardess kindly picked them up for me and then after looking at my boarding passes, exclaimed, “Wow, you have come a long way!” That was actually helpful, everyone around me heard her comment and I felt their stern faces, judging my capabilities in life, soften. I took a big deep breath and settled in for the flight.

At this point in time, all I really wanted to do was vomit, sleep, shower, sleep, shower, sleep, shower, sleep, and stop flying! I looked around at my seatmates and noted the man to my left was white and for that matter, most of the rest of the people on my flight were vanilla-skinned. But, the man to my right was black. For me that was a huge blessing! I love my chocolate skinned brothers and sisters in this world and I was already going through shock from being surrounded by a sea of white people. My seatmate was from Cameroon, we talked about Africa and I told him about my work with Mercy Ships all the way to BWI! He is a nurse too and expressed interest in volunteering with Mercy Ships in the future. Wow! God is awesome!

One of the Psalms in the Bible says the Lord watches over our coming and going both now and forevermore. How awesome! I have no doubt in my mind, God watched over every little detail of my time in Africa…and my return to the United States of America! Good is so good. After a final car ride from BWI to my brother’s apartment in Washington, D.C, I was reunited with my family. There was nothing more I wanted in that moment… well… except for a really long shower!

Angels Amongst the Sons of Men

The day the big White Whale landed on the black shores of Africa was a blessed day to the Sons of Men.

It came with angels to walk amongst the Sons of Men.

Why do I call them angels?

Let me tell you of my time with them.

I came on board the White Whale with rooms filled with the lame, the mame, the formed, the deformed, the wrong, and the rough.

And deep into the darkest part of the night, I saw men and brethren, maidens and ladies, though flesh as us yet, with hearts of angels.

Sleeplessly and tirelessly they toiled through the night.

Through the pains and aches of men, they with hands to heal and mend,

bringing from above, the Father's love to the Sons of Men.

Some they cut, some they tie, some they seal, and others they fix with tools untold.

Like messengers of the Most High they came not thinking of their own,

they risked their lives and sailed the sea,

to lands beyond the endless world, to shores of men afflicted and in pain.

Their hearts and lives they came to share as angels walk amongst the Sons of Men.

Some in this life are born to pass and some are born in life to live,

yet, these angels are born to preserve humanity.

Though some lives they see as waste yet, with speed they move to save.

With words of love and touch of peace,

they endlessly toil to make right the wrong.

You were born as men to your lands and yet as angels you served the earth.

Gold is dug from earth beneath.

Treasures are hunted on high seas but,

love so pure and true can only in hearts like yours, be found.

Your labor in the Lord shall not be in vain.

For every life you touch and every soul you save

For every bone you mend and every face you straight.

The Lord of Life and Light will light your path and guide your life.

For you are truly... Angels Amongst the Sons of Men.

By: One of our beloved patients... Prince Eddie Daniels... 2009