Working out my narrative storytelling muscle. Thank you for reading and walking through these days with me! They were days marked by wisdom, dependence and provision.
C’est Bon (It’s Good)
My team arrived at our destination in a country in Northern Africa on a Wednesday afternoon. After being led by an unsolicited personal guide searching and trekking through crowded alleyways, we finally found our small hostel tucked into the corner of this urban coastal town. After reading on the hostel terrace at daybreak on Tuesday morning, we transitioned to the top floor dining room for bread and fresh fruit. During breakfast, we reflected on our adventurous evening from the previous night, including our search for a functioning ATM machine, and hunting for purified water. We had already experienced so much in this new country in less than 12 hours! Before we left the breakfast table, I looked over at my teammate Kelly and saw that she had what looked like three bug bites on her neck. Not overly concerned, we continued on with our busy morning, commuting by taxi and train to our final city destination in our new home country. As the hours passed and morning turned into afternoon, we watched as Kelly’s neck and face began to swell, increasing in redness and with more blisters than before. That evening she took Benadryl, and we observed minor improvements. The next morning, she had regressed, presenting with increase swelling in her face and neck, and with more blisters now covering her arms, legs, back, and feet.
My team sat around the breakfast table that morning, having plans to meet with a new friend to learn to make a traditional dish. We knew we needed to pray for our teammate, and ask for wisdom on how to move forward. After lifting her up in prayer, the Holy Spirit’s leading was nothing short of abundant and apparent for the remainder of the story.
Our current apartment does not have Wifi, so our team leader Kelsey (who is also a registered nurse) left with a weary Kelly to get internet at a nearby cafe and begin searching for a local urgent care center. While they were out, another teammate, Landry sat in the corner of the apartment and mysteriously was able to get Wifi from an open network (more on the Wifi in a minute). Kelly and Kelsey returned to the apartment 30 minutes later with the name and phone number of a clinic. They decided to check back in with us and tell us the details of the plan to go to the clinic, but we decided as a group that we should get local SIM cards for our two team cell phones (affectionately called “Baby Phones”). Since I am responsible for one of the phones, I joined Kelly and Kelsey, while our two other teammates waited for our guest to arrive for the cooking lesson. Miraculously, our cab driver was able to find the clinic location through language barriers, imprecise address, and an out-of-service phone number. To our surprise and disappointment, the clinic was half-demolished. We decided to exit the taxi, regroup in a nearby pharmacy to find another clinic recommendation from the pharmacist. Instead of directing us somewhere else, the pharmacist tried to diagnose Kelly with a skin condition, and began to pull out topical ointments and creams. Tempted to take the pharmacist’s recommendations, we knew the wise decision was for Kelly to see a physician at a hospital downtown. Since this was the first commercial area with open shops we had encountered, we seized the opportunity and attempted to purchase our team SIM cards in order to be connected with the entire squad if necessary.
Searching semi-aimlessly, we bumped into a gentle and beautiful woman who spoke perfect English! Willing to help us, she began to glide across the street with us in toe, sauntering into her friends bodega, scooping up a kitten from the front door, while translating to the shop owner friend for us. Though we were concerned about Kelly’s progressively worsening rash, we still had peace in our hearts and minds throughout this entire experience. We took in the angelic presence of this helper and the kindness of the shop owner and his friend who worked diligently to ensure that our baby phones were working properly, observed the children enjoying their holiday in the streets, and shooed a kitten away as it played with the bottom of my ankle length skirt. Even Kelly had a tranquility during all of these moments, held by her Protector, and allowing us to plan and problem solve while we led her that day.
After solidifying our means of communication, we returned to the apartment to regroup one more time and leave a baby phone with our other teammates. Landry’s mysterious Wifi connection was in and out at this point, but miraculously lasted long enough for us to get the address and phone number for the hospital. Side note, Landry has been able to link to the mysterious/ Holy Spirit Wifi network for only a few minutes throughout our few weeks here. Kelly, Kelsey and I then proceeded to take a taxi 20 minutes downtown to see a physician. We walked into the emergency room and Kelly was triaged and checked in for a consultation in less than 20 minutes. Have you ever been to an emergency room and been seen by a physician that quickly? Neither have I. It was amazing!
The beautiful physician (who later informed us that she would have been on holiday, but was called in for clinic duty earlier that day) was one of the only people in the hospital able to speak English. She walked into the room with a presence of confidence and comfort.
“What have you been eating?”, she asked.
“We’ve all eaten the same things: fresh vegetables, rice, chicken, pasta, nothing exotic or new”
“Where have you been sleeping?”
We looked at each other and smirked. “On what night? Probably 10 different hostels at this point since we have been traveling on the Camino in Spain.”
With an uncertain look in her eyes, the doctor gently informed Kelly that they needed to treat her rash aggressively, including an inpatient overnight stay and observation. My teammates and I looked at each other with wide eyes. The doctor assured Kelly she would be okay, but that the rash was serious and she felt it was safest for her to be in the hospital for a minimum of 24 hours. Kelly agreed and the process of checking into the hospital began. The hospital generously allowed us to make a small upfront payment with the cash that we had on-hand in order to check in, another piece of evidence of the Lord’s provision since we had not gotten cash until one of our regrouping sessions earlier in the day. Kelly was admitted, given a private room, and received her first round of treatment in another shockingly short period of time.
Still slightly stunned, but walking in wisdom, Kelsey and I prayed over Kelly, then went on the hunt for Wifi in a nearby cafe to begin to formulate a plan. While running on nothing but coffee and a roll, we connected with our team, reached out to our squad leaders, began planning an impromptu overnight stay, and prayed for Kelly to continue to be comforted and protected. After we filed an incident report, documented our experience on the log and notified our leadership, we returned to the hospital to see our sweet friend. Imagine being hospitalized in a foreign country, with a mysterious skin condition, unable to communicate with the nursing staff and being stuck with needles. I was so encouraged by Kelly’s courage, clinging to the Lord during this unforeseen episode. Once we were together again with our friend in the hospital, another wave of peace crashed over us. We reflected on the day and the Lord’s provision. We thanked God for this clean and capable hospital that was caring for Kelly.
The day transitioned into evening, and the nursing staff shift changed with it. A new group of nurses popped in to take Kelly’s vitals. As they arranged their instruments, they glanced up at us speaking another language. Taking in our blank stares, they were immediately aware that we had only a little broken French in common. The two nurses exchanged glances and half-rolled their eyes, in disbelief that they were working with this group of wide-eyed American girls who could barely communicate. A cycle of awkward smiles, nervous laughter, unsure head nods, and repeated expressions of “C’est Bon” ensued. We got by okay that evening, but the dark of the night brought a new thing: an element of tenderness and care.
While Kelly worked to rest comfortably in her hospital bed, Kelsey and I curled up on the couch with our feet propped on a coffee table and an armchair. Unable to sleep, Kelsey strolled out of the room and through the hallways to quiet her mind. Passing the nursing station, she decided to pull out Google translate and strike up conversation with the nurses. As simple as it sounds, a connection was made. As the night carried on, the nurses continued to come through our room, administering medications to Kelly and checking in on us. At 2:00 am, three of the nurses swarmed into the room with fresh sheets, rolling in a pullout bed couch, insisting that they make beds for us, and providing us with a blanket to stay warm. How sweet of God to use them to care for us in that way!
With each passing hour, Kelly looked better and better. By the next morning, our guardian angel physician was confident that she could discharge Kelly with continued prescription medications, ensuring us that her skin would fully heal by the end of the month. C’est Bon! Later, we were reunited with our other teammates Gina Marie and Landry, sat around a prepared feast of couscous and lamb, and gratefully enjoyed an afternoon of rest in community.
While Kelly is at the center of this story, she has kindly given me permission to share from my perspective. My role in this story was both active participant, but also as passenger while the Holy Spirit drove the vehicle. I had the gift of being used by God that day to shepherd Kelly, but at the same time rest in His provision and guidance. Though we led her, we were able to do nothing apart from dependence on God. I am in awe. This day would not have looked the same in the United States. God’s goodness redeemed every circumstance that opposes our ability to say “C’est Bon, It’s good”. My friend is sick and hospitalized. C’est Bon. We do not speak the language. C’est Bon. We do not have cell phone service. C’est Bon. We have limited access to Wifi. C’est Bon. No direct forms of transportation. C’est Bon. Unfamiliar city, country and culture. C’est Bon.
I cannot say “It’s good” because of my circumstances or my own power.
But because of God, C’est Bon.
To read more about the hospital experience, check out Kelly’s blog post here! See how our King stepped in and conquered fear!
