Thanksgiving Day, 2016. A day that I will never forget, even if I wanted to.
Danielle ended up having Typhoid Fever, Pneumonia, and gallstones. She went into surgery the night before Thanksgiving in Kathmandu. Holden and I had planned to leave the morning of Thanksgiving, 5:30am, to catch a 12 hour microbus ride from the Orphanage to Kathmandu. As I sit here and try to piece back the memory of that bus ride, I can’t help but smile. An hour into our trip, a young couple and their baby boarded our bus, fitting themselves between Holden and I. I began to form a friendship with the young mother, even though she didn’t speak any english. I offered her some cookies and some water, which she took with a smile. She even let me hold her baby at one point. She came onto the bus after a bathroom break and dropped an orange into my lap, smiling. I smiled back. I held the orange in my hand for a moment, smiling. How simple love can be some times.
But then the real fun began. Her baby began to twist and turn and eventually started to vomit. The baby vomited all down the side of Holden’s pants. He pulled some cloths out of his EMT bag and handed it to the grateful parents as they tried to clean up what they could. Here’s the funny part though- about 2 hours later, the baby started to writhe again, and vomited down the side of my leg. I tried my best to help clean it up, but after a while, the bus started to reek of vomit.
Holden and I made friends with a couple of Nepali men on our bus who spoke english. One of the men had a fiancee in Pennsylvania and spoke very good english. The other man however, downed whiskey when he could, and was a little belligerent. But at the end of the day, both these men made sure we had food, tea, and access to a restroom at every stop. I was extremely grateful considering we were traveling without a translator. Language barriers are frustrating and can be scary at some parts. The Lord was with us in the midst of all the chaos.
We eventually made it to our final stop in Kathmandu around 7pm. We walked with our bags to Ruben’s house and dropped our bags, only taking a few outfits and our daypacks to go see Danielle in the hospital. We hopped in a taxi and arrived to the hostel we would be staying at while Danielle healed. Squadmates greeted us and handed us a plate full of American Thanksgiving food. I have to say, I stared at the food for a while, the plate just sitting in my lap. I hadn’t spoken to my family all day. Besides my new Nepali friends, I was surrounded by strangers on a squished, smelly bus all day. But here in my lap was a piece of home. I smiled as I ate the food and talked to friends.
We made it to the hospital by 8:30. Danielle caught us up on everything that had been happening. Right now, all I can say is I have so much dang respect for this woman. I am so proud to call her my friend and sister in Christ. Her attitude and willing to fight back is something that inspires me, inspires everyone. She can push through pain and come out blazing. Doesn’t everyone want that strength? I know I do.
She’s now in the hostel with me, Holden, and 3 other teams. We’ve been helping her with medicines, making her tea, anything she needs to heal. We’ve spent quiet afternoons together reading, talking, and eating food that isn’t rice and beans for once. We even got a hot shower, something we haven’t had in two months.
Just watching her smile and laugh today with reunited squadmates made me smile as well. Seeing her happy made me happy. Not only because she’s my dear beloved friend, but it was a reminder from the Lord that joy always ALWAYS comes in the morning. He never fails us. Sometimes the enemy attacks, the Lord attacks back. And you end up on the sunnier side. I am thankful this Thanksgiving even though I had little communication with home. Thankful for this community. For love. And for the Lord’s unfailing strength to see people through if we just have the courage to fight. We are ready for Month 3. Bring it on.
