So I told you all in my last blog that I contracted malaria during our stay here in West Africa and that I would write a blog to tell you about the experience. Malaria has certainly been a villain for Q-squad these past 2 months. I can’t tell you exactly how many of the 57 of us have had it but I can tell you that the number of people who haven’t had it is far fewer than the number of people who have. (I think the last count was 41). All of us have had different malarial experiences, but I haven’t heard of a person who didn’t struggle physically in some way or another during their malaria. Our squad members who have had it now affectionately call ourselves members of “The Plus Club”. This term was coined after I got my paper back from the labs and there was a little evil plus sign representing the parasites that had invaded my blood. So I want to convey first to you, the physical and then the emotional/spiritual struggle that ensued after that little positive told me my body had been invaded. (lol)
We have now been in Ghana for 6 weeks so the timeline of my malaria was about the 2nd/3rd week of being here in Sunyani. The first day I recognized that something was wrong was a day when we were out at a school doing ministry. In the middle of singing the “Go Bananas” song (if you don’t know it, YouTube it) I started to feel very faint. We moved on to “I’ve Made Up My Mind” (a Jamaican worship song) when I ended up having to walk away because I knew I wasn’t okay. My head was spinning, my heart was pounding and I seriously thought I would blackout. It was an extremely hot day, there was no shade in this courtyard, and I had been chasing kids around for about an hour. So I figured I was just extremely overheated. I sat out until we left and then laid down when we came back from ministry and thought I was fine. Many other people had not felt well either afterwards because of the heat. The next day, some girls and I went into town. After about an hour of being out, I began to feel the same way that I had the day before. I felt extremely weak, light headed, and my head was pounding. So I told the girls I was with that I had to leave and when we came back, my former teammate, who is a nurse, came to check on me. She took my temperature and it was about 100.6 degrees. From that point on, I ran a fever for probably about 3 days and it reached about 103.4 degrees at it’s highest. That was the day that I ended up going to the doctor and it was the worst day that I had. I honestly remember thinking that I might die. Dramatic, I know but I have never felt that terrible in my entire life. My head pounded constantly, my whole body (even my eyes) was weak and drained and sore, my hands would go numb constantly, I was nauseous and sick to my stomach, I could barely walk to the bathroom, and I didn’t have an appetite whatsoever. It was miserable, folks. It took about 10-14 days to feel back to 100% and I have a newfound thankfulness for my health, especially on the race so far. I was even thankful for the time in Peru when I had a parasite and gastroenteritis.
Hopefully, I haven’t seemed complaining so far. I wanted to accurately depict the ways that I was feeling so you can understand more about how I started feeling on the inside. About 10 days after the malaria hit me, I was still recovering but I went to church. At church, my friend and teammate Dara decided to do an altar call for people who wanted healing. Two other squad-mates and I went up there for our people to pray over our malaria. As we were praying, the Lord really spoke to me. I looked up at Dara and I began to cry. She hugged me hard and I said to her “malaria made me forget” and just cried. Nothing had made sense about how I was feeling until I asked God that day and He told me.
Malaria made me forget so much. As I laid in bed for days, unable to go do ministry or go to team meetings or even go to dinner, I forgot why I was here. More than that, I forgot about God’s goodness and His purpose in everything. ALL I could think about was going home. I didn’t want to be here anymore. I didn’t want to stay on the race. I wanted to quit. I wanted to give up. I wanted to give in to these flesh thoughts that had risen up in me. I called my parents and I cried. I told them how hard it was and that I didn’t know if I could do it anymore.
Leaving was all I could think of and I honestly considered if I wanted to be here anymore, if I thought I was supposed to be here anymore. I sat in silence, not telling anyone here about the thoughts and ponderings of my heart and wondering where God was in all of this. I went back to ministry and my heart wasn’t in it and my mind was preoccupied. So one day I set aside my whole morning and I sat down with God. I sat down with Him and I asked Him where He was, because I couldn’t see Him lately. I asked Him why I was here and I asked Him to speak to me. I cried out to Him and I listened for Him. And He told me that I didn’t trust Him enough. He told me that I wasn’t relying on His strength anymore. And of course, He was right. He’s God. So I started to reflect on what I’ve learned thus far on the race (I’ll save that for another blog) and He began to reveal those things to me. He showed me that He is my strength, and He is always there and that He has purpose in everything. Malaria made me forget but He made me remember. And in the remembering, I knew His goodness. If I didn’t get malaria, I wouldn’t have turned to Him to remember my purpose. I wouldn’t have spent that Saturday morning crying out to Him and seeing all the things He has brought me through on this race and all the things He still wants to work out in me. I wouldn’t have the same amount of sympathy for my squad mates who have gone or are going through malaria. I wouldn’t have entered into vulnerability with my squad the way that I was able to do when I was struggling. I wouldn’t have realized that I am depending on myself to make it through this race.
So what did malaria teach me? It taught me more about God and myself. The next time I go through something hard, I don’t want it to be the end before I realize that I have to turn to my Papa. I want it to be every step of the way, on my best days, on my worst days, in hard times, and in great times. I always want to remember His goodness and His faithfulness and His purpose for my life and for all the seasons. It might seem like a simple thing to say all the time “rely on God for your strength” but now I know more about what living that out looks like. I know about my tendencies and how to fight the lies in those times where I will struggle. I know that God is good.
If you’re going through something hard, don’t let it drown you like I did. In your hardest times and in the best times of your life, don’t forget to look for God in it all. He calls us out upon the waters and when we start to sink, He doesn’t hesitate to pull us back up. He’s there when we are on the waters and He is there when we sink. Whatever season you are in, how are you seeking God in it? How are you seeing Him work? How are you relying on Him?
Also don’t forget that there’s no shame in having seasons where it’s hard to see how He is working. Don’t stop fighting. It wasn’t until I started fighting again, for my time with Him, for seeing Him and saw past myself, that I started to come out of the rut I was in. Keep fighting. It’s halfway through the race and I would be lying to say that these thoughts have gone away completely. I miss home. I miss my friends. I miss my family. I miss my comforts. But ultimately I know that this is where God has called me. He hasn’t called me to be comfortable. He has called me to follow Him and in this season, it’s following Him around the world. It’s offering people a Hope beyond their imagining and letting Him transform me all the while. And that is worth it all.
Love you all!
