Tuesday, June 10, 2014

It was nothing like I'd planned

Three weeks ago, I sat in a small café across from the airport with two of my favorites from the ship, waiting until the last possible moment to walk out of the African sun for the last time. On this trip at least. The good-byes were harder than expected, people I had come to love as family over these past 10 months. People who, whether they knew it or not, were the reason I stayed.

"How was Africa?" 
I apologize if you have asked me this question in the past 3 weeks and I have looked at you, seemingly blankly and a little confused. In my head, my thoughts are going a million miles a minute. What do you want to hear? How much do you really want to know? What can I say to make you reach the deepest level of understanding possible, this side of the ocean? How much time do you have to listen? How do I put these thoughts into words?

Africa was difficult.
I was challenged in ways that I never anticipated. Personally, living and working with the same people, all day, every day is difficult. I know- these people all made incredible sacrifices to be here, they love Jesus with their life, not just their words. They are good people. The best people actually. In the midst of all these people, there were lonely days. Days I longed for someone to understand how I felt. 

Africa was full of learning.
Some days the work was challenging. In the beginning, it wasn't what I wanted to do. I wasn't using the specialized skills I had, and no one cared! Because that is not what they needed. And that's not what I was called there to do. I was challenged to find confidence when I doubted myself. To feel valued. To find perspective when politics and differing opinions on what was the best treatment for the patient caused frustration. To find grace when I had a small and selfish mindset. To find deeper compassion for those who have suffered.

Africa was wearisome.
There were disappointments. For every life we changed, there was one we couldn't help. There were short-cuts we had to take. There were cases we didn't win. We left with patients still in the midst of difficult healing processes. Patients will need more surgeries and more follow-up that we will not be there to do.

Africa was home. 
Our friend Josh explains it beautifully on his blog- how leaving these friends creates an ache deep within. They get it, they understand what it's like to leave the place we called home for the last 9 months. A place unlike anywhere else.

Africa was where I found joy.
How do I describe the depth of the joy I felt when Mahamadou, usually reserved and somewhat aloof, joins in friendly competition with the other patients? Or how hard it is to hide the sadness in my eyes when I see Flo's wound not healing, knowing what this means, but not wanting to steal any of the hope she has? Or how I can't help but break into a smile when a Deborah's mama gladly hands her over to me and gives me permission to take Debo with me wherever I go, even to America? What about how funny it was to watch Jonah joke with Habiba about how hungry she always was? And how I knew she, Flo, and Bijou would envelope Karyn in hugs after I left the ship?

These are the things weighing on my heart as I come back. And even these words do not suffice, they don't explain how I left a piece of my heart in that country with each of those patients, who loved us as their own.

"How was Africa?" It was more than I could have hoped for.

Part of the great team we worked with

Vincent

Habiba! 

Flo

Sanate

Josue



"That's Where It Is" - Carrie Underwood