Heartbeats
Maybe you noticed I haven’t exactly stuck to writing 11 blogs in 11 days to recap this past year of the World Race. Maybe you didn’t, but it happened. I got stuck. I haven’t been able to form the words that adequately describe month 3 because month 3 was powerful. It set the tone for a lot of things, but specifically it revealed a deep calling the Lord has on my life for medical missions. Maybe I needed to know I was accepted to the masters program at Georgetown and I will begin pursuing this goal before I felt ready to unpack such a heavy month in my life. Maybe I needed more time to pray for the many people who touched my heart in that unforgettable place. Maybe it’s the heat; the heat here in Oklahoma leads me on a rabbit trail of thoughts everyday that lead me to thoughts of Mozambique. I begin wondering what all those people that I met there are doing now…and without a/c (yes, it is possible). Whatever the reason for the severe lack of courage to write about it, I still feel the words that follow won’t adequately express the impact this month in Mozambique had on my life. Please give grace to these words, understanding they fall short and can ever replicate the impact of my experience there and all the Lord is at work doing in that place. He used it to change my life and my perspective forever…
One by one, we call the kids up to be checked. I sit at the end of a long wooden bench at the front of the classroom as they make their way through the stations to be measured and weighed. I wipe the sweat as it drips down the sides of my cheek, stethoscope in hand, waiting for the next child to sit in front of me. I am there to check their eyes, ears, mouth and then, my very favorite, I get to listen to their hearts and lungs. “Breathe in, Breath out.” Chests rise and fall and with each beat I am reminded at how intricately we are designed by our magnificent Creator; knit together so perfectly. Tiny little heartbeats that work hard inside these precious bodies pound with resilience. Their eyes and faces I will never forget, but their spirited hearts beat like nothing is too much for them and still echo in my mind. I hear hope in the lub-dubs, even though my eyes have a harder time adjusting to the notion.
It was a hot month in Mozambique. We were in a village outside of Quilemane in northern Mozambique. Home this month was in a tent on a soccer field behind a school in the middle of this rural village. Coconut trees were abundant, so I spent many mornings and afternoons hammocking under the shade of their giant palms. The pace was slow and the work was hard, and day by day we were being strengthened. We saw God move in incredible ways through our teams and in the people there. Despite the challenges we faced and unbelievable living conditions, joy was abundant. We worked with a ministry called Life Church and the school where we worked and lived was a part of their sister organization, Life Child. Kids from the local village were sponsored to attend school, receive a meal and an education and became a part of a classroom ‘Cell Group’ where they learned about the Lord and were being discipled by leaders in the local church.
Ministry looked different for everyone throughout the week. My team of six (the Sonflowers) was there with another team of seven (team Ardency), and were joined for the first part of the month by our two squad leaders, Zach and Alysa. We did everything at the school in Nomoinyo and Gagone, from helping with gardening, cooking, cleaning, plowing fields, painting, to teaching children about good hygiene, as well as doing in-class check-ups and house visits. A group of us joined the Social Worker, Stella, and a team of volunteers going door-to-door to houses near the school. We would check on the hygienic state of the family and house; assessing living conditions to see if there were any needs we could address such as a bathroom facility, kitchen, exterior house work, etc. And after every visit, we would get to pray with the families. I stayed with this area of ministry throughout the entire month we were there and was able to see up-close the progress being made in regards to not only physical needs, but relational and spiritual needs being met in the community as well.
One of the first children to capture my attention and eventually steal my heart was a little boy named Julio (pronounce jway-lo). I first saw him as he was playing on the playground and helping this little tiny baby up the slide, all while trying to keep his pants on that had two holes in the bum. He peered at us from afar and waved shyly at first until, eventually, he warmed up to us and he would come grab our hands and give us hugs. He became very attached to us, or rather us to him. He would hang around the coconut trees during mealtimes by the outdoor kitchen between the house where he lived with his mom and grandparents. We were feeding him every day and holding and loving on him as much as we could. He followed us around to all our house visits and would blow us kisses when we left for town on the weekends. And one day, we did a house visit to his home.
We talked with the grandparents who were both barefoot and had just come in from plowing a field they work in nearby. They talked with the volunteers about their home and the facilities and what needs they may have. Then, I overheard the translator say they had a sick daughter inside. I butted in and asked to see her. They obliged and I walked into a dark room with a dirt floor and barely enough room for 3 people to stand. I saw the pain in her eyes and was taken aback by how emaciated she was. I knelt down and felt her head and neck with the back of my hand. She was burning up. Her respiratory rate was very high and her pulse was thready. I could hear the wetness in her lungs without a stethoscope and then she coughed in a way that reminded me of someone with TB. Something else was wrong though.
I asked how long she had been sick and they said a few weeks. She has AIDS they said. My heart sank. Julio. I looked for her medication and found her retrovirals. I ask if she’s been taking them and if she’s been to see a doctor. They said she has, so has Julio, and no, they don’t have the money to take her. I was afraid to say out loud what I knew in my gut; she has PCP pneumonia. The end is probably very near for her. All I can do is pray. The team gives them a medical voucher for the clinic. I urge them to go as soon as they can. Then I take her hand and I pray more. Harder.
I duck through the doorway to walk out of that hot mud hut and into the sun. My eyes are wet and as I squint to adjust to the sun, there is sweet Julio, leaning close-by near a tree. I grab him and hug him and fight to hold back the tears. My heart breaks as I realize his whole life is going to be completely different from anything he’s expecting. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t ask for it. But, it happened: he has HIV and will soon lose his mother to the disease and he’ll be left having to carry the burden of this disease his whole life. This isn’t an uncommon story for people in this country. The generation of adults his mother’s age are being wiped out from AIDS, leaving their parents, who should be resting and being taken care of by their own children, to now have to go back to work in order to take care of their grandchildren. And, if they can’t, those children are left to fend for themselves. It is part of why there are close to 740,000 orphans as a result of AIDS alone in Mozambique (unicef.org).
After the visit to their home, the ministry began letting us take meals to Julio’s whole family. Over the next couple weeks, I was able to check in on his mother again. She received medical care and medicine and lots of prayer and was feeling a bit better; well enough to come outside the house and watch us love on Julio. Her frail body still a reminder of the disease that runs rampant in her body.
Stories. There are so many more stories from this month. I feel sad to abbreviate them here, but if I don’t, this blog could turn into an even longer short novel. There was the little girl who’s arm had a terrible burn on it that I got to help treat; a young family who broke my heart and left it shattered. I wrote about them here: (Worth the Fight). They made me realize that I am delayed, meaning I saw a delay in my responses to people and needs when the Lord was making it clear there is an immediacy that He has already prepared for, I just have to be willing. There are stories of classroom visits and heartbeats and moments of joy and laughter with the kids that I still have dreams about. Moments of humility and surrender to do the things I felt so uncomfortable doing, but that the Lord called me to do; like cleaning out a young woman’s house to hopefully prevent the spread of more scabies between her five children; my first church service in the village and watching a community cling to the Lord together in worship in such a way that left me sweating and breathless; of challenging conversations around campfires at night with locals from the church who loved on us so well; being stretched to sing worship songs in Portugese and getting really far out of my comfort zone to play my guitar and sing in front of hundreds of people during church service one Sunday (#terrified). And the story of my very last day in that village when a pastor with a beautiful heart gave me a gift: a motorcycle ride through the whole village to finally get to see the local clinic and visit people I’d met throughout the month and pray with them one last time.
How did I get through all this? How did these pieces of my heart get so scattered all around the countryside of Mozambique and yet, somehow get put back together? The Lord, of course, but He did it through my team. We made it through this heart-turning month together. We sought the Lord in prayer from a depth of our souls that was united. We also had to learn to seek out joy! It was a laugh or cry month: if you didn’t laugh you might cry and if you did cry, you hoped laughter would come soon to relieve the ache. We became incredibly grateful for small things like fresh coconuts, melted chocolate, and a piece of fish without the eyeballs still attached. We learned how to soak up the moments. This month showed me what it looks and feels like to live and love whole-heartedly and I got to do it alongside some of the most amazing people I know.
Month 3 brought an incredible amount of softening and breaking to my heart, and with it, a more thickened layer has grown and formed into a solid determination. I learned about sacrifice and listening to the Lord through PRAYER. And something ignited in me: I want to fight for people like the ones I encountered in that rural village in Mozambique. My time there gave me a resolute desire to find ways to help those without the means or access to medical care, health education, other essential resources. It is what is fueling my passion to obtain my masters as a FNP and then (hopefully) another masters in Global Health. I want to be a part of finding solutions to bring help and HOPE to those without it. To embrace this cry on my heart, I had to let go of any previous notions and my own selfish desires. It’s the same with our relationship with the Lord and a quote I heard today sums that up best:
“We are only able to embrace ALL that He is when we
SURRENDER
all that we are.” – A.W. Tozer
