Hope for Liberia

I glimpsed this past week a glimmer hope as the HIV team attendind a pastor conference outside of Monrovia. Hope for Liberia…hope for the church of Liberia…hope for the next generation.

There is a great line in the movie Amazing Grace. It’s at a turning point in the movie when William Wilberforce’s fiancé is encouraging him to take up the legislative fight against slavery for a second time. To paraphrase her statement, she says, ‘People were afraid, they are ready now…when people stop fearing they rediscover their compassion.’ It’s a line from the movie that has come to mind several times as I consider the fear the people of Liberia have towards those infected with HIV. It’s a fear that extends beyond people who are HIV+, it’s a deeply rooted fear towards all sickness and illness. It is fear that results in the ill being rejected and isolated. A fear that is rooted in African Spiritualism, ‘juju’ is the local term used to describe witchcraft and curses. Sudden unexplained, death is startlingly common here in Liberia. ‘African sickness’ is another term the Liberians use to explain these bazaar unexpected deaths. A western mind cannot understand such things. I don’t doubt the reality of evil but I know the power to God is stronger.

This past week I saw this fear overcome as I watched Agnes, an HIV+ friend, share her story with a church full of pastors and church leaders. I saw this fear overcome as following her testimony the entire assembly stood, wiping the tears from their eyes and prayed for Agnes. I saw the compassion on their faces as they moved to shake her hand, offer a word of encouragement, and embrace her. It gave me hope because it reminded me that the people of Liberia are compassionate. I forget sometimes when I hear numerous accounts of husbands beating their wives, when I see the rough interaction between mothers and their children in the market, when I see an older sibling beating a younger sibling, when I see a thief being beaten to death on the street by an angry mob who want justice. Fear makes people forget their compassion. And yet…compassion can be reawakened. Compassion may be fragile but it is also tenacious.

Faces of Liberia!!

All these Pictures are from our medical screening day which was held Februay 18th at a local soccer staduim. It's the day we select patients for surgury. A little girl spectating the days events. (Left)



A mother waiting with her young child. (Left)
People camped out the night before to reserve a place in line. People started lining up by 4AM, many waited in the sun all day to be seen by our doctors.







A bit curious...a bit shy (Left)

I think old people have the most charming faces. It doesn't matter what country they are from, the lines on their faces tell a story. Her face captures the essesce of dignity, sorrow, and perseverence don't you think? Notice the long line pictured in the background. (Left)

You'll have to click to enlarge this one, her face is captivating. Umbrellas are an important source of portable shade in West Africa. Old People are held in the highest respect in Africa.

Sister Renette

Yesterday I spent some time with a few of my nun friends, inspirational ladies. To hear Sis. Renette say she is only allowed to go home for 3 wks every 10 years puts my own small sacrifice of being away from family into better perspective.

"Christianity is a condition of absolute simplicity, costing not less than everything" T.S. Elliot

Morning Communte to work

This morning on our way out to the bush to meet a pastor we got stuck behind 3 different taxis that had to be pushed out of the road because their engines stopped working--could be that they ran out of gas, could be that the gas was mixed with water...

Tried to stop for gas on the way back to port. We were told, "there's no current" meaning there was no electricity with which to pump the gas. Have to go back tomorrow...

It was a good day! =)

More Stories and News

At the moment I am having trouble posting pictures and I am not able to write enough to keep up with all the happening of ship life or news developments in Liberia. I came across a link today to other Mercy Ships blogs for those of you who are computer geeks and like keeping up with blogs =).

http://mercyshipslinks.blogspot.com/
(I perused the other blogs a little bit. The blog titled 'Meg in Africa' is one of our ward nurses. She posts a lot of pictures and gives a medical perspective for those of you who are of a medical background. Another good blog is the 'Peet Family in Liberia' he writes short, informative entries about happenings within Liberia as well as blurbs about his family. They are a British family and for those of you who enjoy dry humor you might enjoy checking out their blog.)

Presidential Visits...

It's been a week of Presidential visits...her Excellency Madam Ellen Johnson Sirleaf (that's how she's addressed from the podium every time a new person gets behind the mic to speak at public events where she is present) came to the ship for a visit on Tuesday. She is actually a big Mercy Ships fan and it a was a great honor to us that she would choose to visit the ship for a second time. She gave a heartfelt speech to the crew and kind words of gratitude for our service. This was my second time hearing her speak publicly, every time I have heard her speak it inspires me with hope for the nation of Liberia. She is a courageous woman, the people of Liberia refer to her as the "Iron Woman".

The second presidential visit, not to the ship but to the nation of Liberia, was President George Bush. Liberia was his last stop on visit of 5 West African Nations. Billboards picturing him and Madam Sirleaf started popping up around town last week in preparation for his arrival. He has promised that "America will stand by Liberia" in the years to come and has pledged a load of textbooks and educational supplies to the country. I want to be optimistic and believe that Bush's promise might actually be true but our track record of "standing by Liberia" is not good. We didn't seem to stand by Liberia during the last civil war when people started piling up the bodies of their dead family members outside the walls US Embassy in petition to the US government to help stop the madness of the war.

A New Year

I know it's been a long time since I have posted when I can't remember my password to access my blog. A Happy New Year to all of you!! Don't worry I won't try to sum up the last 6 months in a single blog entry.

As the new year starts I do find myslef reflecting on the past year but more so looking forward to the year to come. I am expectant and hopeful for what the year will hold. There is much to be gained (like a new baby niece who is due in April and a new sister-in-law to be added to the family this summer!) and much to be learned.

After a two month rest in the Canary Islands, (geographically part of Africa, politically part of Spain) the ship has returned to Liberia once again. There has been an influx of about 50 new crew over the last 2 weeks and this week will officially kick off the ten month outreach that lies ahead. Tomorrow will be day 1 of a two day medical screening process in which people will come from all over Liberia, and sometimes different part of West Africa in hopes that we will be able to schedule them for surgury. Many people will receive a registration card scheduling them for surgury on the ship. However, more will be turned away and told that there is nothing we can do to help their physical condition. We are limited not only in space but in the type of operations we perform. This will be my first time helping with a medical screening. I am excited but also a bit nervous about the physical conditions we will see tomorrow.

A big thank you to all of you who continue to support me, pray for me and encourage me. Thank you for your love and for your interest in this work, for your packages, for your letters, and for your e-mails. I am so thankful to the Lord for you.

Life

"There in the ground HIS body lay

LIGHT OF THE WORLD by darkness slain

Then bursting forth in glorious Day

Up from the grave HE rose again

And as HE stands in victory

Sin's curse has lost it's grip on me

For I am HIS and HE is mine

Brought with the precious blood of CHRIST

*************

No guilt in life, no fear in death

This is the power of CHRIST in me

From life's first cry to final breath

JESUS commands my destiny

No power of hell, no scheme of man

Can ever pluck me from HIS hand'

Till HE returns or calls me home

Here in the power of CHRIST I'll stand"

***********************

Last two verses of the song In Christ Alone

******************

i struggle with what to write because i want these entries to be encouraging and funny. It's good when they are but i think i need to be real even in my sorrow. The past several weeks have been tough. Sometimes i struggle to see the LORD'S goodness and i struggle to see any justice in this life.I Corinthians 15:58 say our labour in the LORD is not in vain but sometimes it feels like it is in vain. And 1 Corinthians 16:14 exhorts us to be courageous people, to "be strong" and to "do everything in love" but sometimes feels like love is being overcome by evil. At such times my heart feels heavy and i long for JESUS to come back soon--to take up the case for the widow and for the orphan, to be the champion for the weak, and to bind up the broken hearted.

Africa, America, Asia...it doesn't really matter where. People everywhere are broken and hurting and searching for hope.

*****

The words of this song remind me of our hope, that Christ is victorious and that satan is a shmuck. That we belong to Christ and that this freedom that we now have costs us everything. And What does it mean that to live is Christ and to die is gain? And what does it mean that "we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that HIS life may be revealed in our mortal body" (2 Cor 4:11) ? What does this daily death look like? And why doesn't it always feel so victorious or glorious?? Death of our selfish flesh yes but death of our wills and dreams as well? I don't understand.

*****

Please do pray that we the church will come to know how high and how wide and how deep is the love of Christ. And, that from this understanding we will respond to a hurting, broken world. That we will long for the wholeness and healing that only seems possible through death.Somehow we, the church, are supposed to lead the way in brokeness...the kind of brokeness that stems from a contrite heart and humble spirit. Perhaps so that we we can welcome the broken people of the world who have not yet met the healer of their hearts...the LIVING HOPE who requires death so that HE might bring life.

Back in Liberia

“It is hard to give up an illusion, especially the illusion of goodness and safety. The person unwilling to part with his illusions will never be fit to stand in the presence of God. God will allow them to live with their hollow and fragile egos and to find such rewards as their illusions offer, but He will not allow them to see Him” –Rich Mullins

From time to time I ask myself what are the illusions I cling to? The illusion of my own goodness is the one I think I struggle with often--Wanting so desperately to believe I am worthy of the the scandelous grace God showers upon me. I sometimes manage to lull myself into believing the lie that I have done enough to make God love me. It's not until a situation arises that blatently exposes my inadequecies that I am reminded again of my desperate need of God's sufficient grace. Actually, usually I freak out a bit, have an internal meltdown, and hide myself away for a bit before I rest once again in the sweet promise of His love. The bad thing about living on a ship is that there are limited places I can hide myself away from other people. The good thing about living on a ship is the wonderful friends who don't let me hide myself away for very long. Since returning to Monrovia and the ship I have been struggling a great deal with feelings of inadequecies...like the challenges are just too many and my abilities are too small. The truth of the matter is that the challenges are too big and my ability is too small. I should just embrace this reality and move on...celebrate God's bigness and delight in the small task God has given me to do. So why this constant struggle?

I have arrived back to Monrovia amidst a whirlwind of shifting and lifting as 350 crew move house from the soon to be retired M/V Anastasis (old ship) to the shiny new M/V Africa Mercy (new ship) that sparkles in the afternoon sun (ok so that is a little bit of an exageration...but the crew is pretty excited). If you want to see some news clips check out the main Mercy Ships website www.mercyships.org . When the homepage comes up click on the little icon of the American flag, unless of course you speak German or Dutch or some other language then you can click on whatever flag you want. I was away when the new ship arrived but I did arrive in plenty of time to help move boxes...lots of them. It's rainy season right now but thankfully it's mostly rained at night which has allowed us to finish moving ships.

Babysitting African style! It's amazing what these women can carry...one kid strapped to their back and 25lb worth of water on their heads...I am still learning how to carry things on my head.

Arrival to Liberia

Above is a picture of the pilot tug that helped manuever us past all the wrecked ships in the harbor safely to our designated dock.

The crew stands at the railing to watch our welcome to the country of Liberia. This is my backyard.

A local group of cultural dancers were part of our welcome. It looked a bit like some type of vodoo dance...somewhat unsettling...last time we were welcomed to the country there were dancers with shrunken heads on sticks?? So I am told... I wasn't on the ship at the time.

A closer shot of the ladies dancing. There is a Ugandan proverb that says, "If you have feet you can dance, if you have a voice you can sing". That statement is nearly true...The Liberians find it quite amusing to watch the white people try to dance. As for singing...I am sure you know a person or two who is tone deaf...

Last night I chatted with a few of the UN soldiers who were hanging out on our dock. Both were from Ghana. I asked them about their duties and how long their assignment in Liberia is. I discovered they are specifically assigned to patrol our dock to keep our ship safe. It's part of the negociations Mercy Ships made with the country before we agreed to come. I guess I can feel a little better about the M16 they have slung across their backs...at least I know now they are here for our benefit. I could never figure out why they hung out on our dock every night. Barbed wire lines certain portions of our dock in an attempt to deter "swimmers" from accessing our dock and stealing our equipment. Already a generator and a projector screen were stollen out of a locked container on the dock. I don't feel unsafe around town though. it just requires us to viligent about our bags and camaras when out. We were advised that if something is stollen off us while we are in town not to try to yell after the thief. There is a thing in West Africa called "mob justice". If I were to yell -- "rogue,rogue!' (the term used here for a thief)-- everybody on the street would go running after that person. Once the thief was caught he would be beaten to death. Mob justice is seen as acceptable and more reliable then turning a person into the local police.

Gas stations are scarce around Monrovia. Most vehicles get their fuel from large gallon size jars on the side of the road. The kind of jars that you buy big pickles in. The fuel comes in two colors, bubble bath pink and a questionable murky brown/purple. A lot of times the gas is mixed with kerosene which can cause big problems for an engine. The other day I went to gas up and as I watched two men transfer gas from a big 10 gallon plastic container using a gallon-size pickle jar--A giant funnel jammed into the gas tank-- I thought, "this can't be safe". The man's hand was drenched in gas, the least little spark could have blown us all up. I wish I'd had my camara. definitely no pay-at-the-pumps here. The first few weeks of adjusting to Liberia--a new culture, new translators, a new workmate--was stressful and tiring. I finally had to ask the Lord to restore my sense of humor. Most situations are better approached with a sense of humor.

Pictures from the sail!

The third night of the sail we had a special time of praise and worship on the bow (front) of the ship. It was beautiful to watch the sun set over the Atlantic as we sang praises to the God who created it all.

Taking on fuel the first day of the sail: We floated off the coast of Ghana for most of the day. The official nautical term for refueling is “bunkering”, it’s a little different from gassing up at the local Shell station.

Loading up the Land Rovers in preparation for sailing. All 20+ vehicles that we use during an outreach are loaded into the hold of the ship (with the exception of a few that are secured on the top of the hatch).

Dolphins were spotted swimming alongside the ship several times.

Several of us girls decided we wanted to camp out on the bow of the ship. With sleeping bags and pillows in hand we made ourselves comfortable...kind of...If you can imagine what it would be like to try to sleep on the top on an airplane that's pretty much what it felt like. The wind was crazy, at one point during the night I turned over and the wind caught my sleeping bag whipping off me and filling it like a kite. It wasn't the most restful night of sleep but the stars were spectacular =)...

Liberia

We arrived to Liberia just yesterday to the sound of music and the sight of brightly clothed men and women dancing on the dock-- a hearty welcome…African style. Following a welcome address by the vice president and an exhibition of African dancing, the gangway was officially secured and our executive director, Solfrid Quist, was accompanied down the gangway by our two Liberian Crew members. This is Mercy Ship’s third outreach to Liberia and many of the crew were excited to return. I looked around the harbor and couldn’t help but wonder what the next 10 months will hold. The view out my backyard (loosely speaking of course) consists of a half sunken ship, 2 large cargo ships, and a panoramic view of the city. The quiet of this harbor is a welcome change from the bustling port of Tema that never seemed to sleep.

Following dinner tonight I accompanied a few of my crew members out past the guarded gate at the end of the dock to visit the nearby UN camp. We were going to see if we could join their nightly game of volleyball. I was not dressed to play so I sat watching. As I sat there I had one of those surreal moments in which I thought “is this really my life?”---here I am hanging out in a UN camp, surrounded by camouflaged peacekeeping forces from Bangladesh and Nepal, watching a friendly game of volleyball, just past a security checkpoint, living on a ship, in the country of Liberia on the coast of West Africa. Kinda crazy…

I debated whether or not to include the following essay…I wrote it in response to film that was shown on the ship. Just to give a little background about the history of Liberia. It has been devastated by 14 years of civil war, the last fighting ended in 2003. Roughly 2/3 of the populations is unemployed, all formal education grounded to a halt during the years of unrest. 50% of the population is said to be under the age of 15. It is a country run on generators. It has been without electricity for the past two decades. Economically it is devastated. Nearly 85% of the population lives below poverty (which is less then $1 USD/day) The UN continues to have a presence here, but the first ever female president in all of Africa, Madam Ellen Johnson Sirleaf was elected in 2005 and the country is in the process of rebuilding.

Shattered

How do a people respond when a nation is in chaos? When all voices of reason have been drowned out by the explosion of mortars and bullets? When the sounds of bullets silence the innocent? When a superpower remains distant and apathetic? When leaders battle for power? When a president promises produce death instead of progress? When an entire international community turns a deaf ear?

Who hears the sound of children crying?
Who hears the sound of parents weeping?
Of brothers dying?

How can such madness exist? How do people survive amidst war…refugees huddled within the protective walls of an abandoned hotel…children carrying machine guns…rebels dancing in the street…soldiers blinded by a cause that promises freedom for their nation but produces only death…orphans needing shelter…people needing food…

Death…the very word makes me think of…isolation …abandonment…of a black abyss, as endless and consuming as the mass graves…that buried hundreds of Liberians killed in the civil war…

IDPs-Internally Displaced People…do they even remember their “land of liberty”? Millions fled…separated from children, sisters, brothers, parents…

We just finished watching the documentary “Uncivil War”…it was bloody…it was graphic…it captured the madness of nation in chaos…of the US’s uninvolvement…of the civilians cry for help…of opposing fighting forces each of whom promised freedom and justice for their people. “Madness”…”Unreality” are the words that came to mind as I watched the scenes of violence flashing across the screen. I sat numb…stunned as people started filing from the room…the movie ended but the story is no where near ending…after 14 years of civil war Liberia is struggling to rebuild…Mercy Ships has chosen to be a part of the reconstruction. But what does that mean?? What will the next 10 months look like? I don’t want relief from these feelings of grief and shame I want relief and healing for the people of Liberia. Healing for the many nations within Africa that have been ravaged by war.

“Lord pour out your mercy and grace! We desperately need you! The people of Liberia need you! Thank you that you see the oppressed and that your heart is for the orphans! Lord Jesus work a miracle in this nation. Restore Hope. Bind up the broken hearted, give sight to the blind! Oh Jesus, I pray your kingdom of peace would reign in the hearts of the people of Liberia. Lord you are able. Please give us wisdom and compassion as we serve the people of this nation.”

A little 'Austin' in Africa!

On the 30th of December I participated in a very special ceremony for a very special family. I have gotten to know Pastor Matell Gracia and his wife Benis through my worrk in the area of HIV/AIDS. Matell and his family take in HIV+ people, many of whom have been rejected by their families. Once they come to live with he and his family he counsels them, gets them involved in a support group and help get them on antiretroviral drugs.

It's tradition in Ghana to wait 60 days before naming ones baby (for whatever reason, it's just tradition). Names are very important here, usually a baby is named after a person in the family--a grandfather, uncle, great aunt, etc. And, the baby is believed to take on the characteristics of the person he/she is named after.

The very first day I met Matell was the day he welcomed home from the hospital his new born baby girls-- identical twins. From the very first day we met this family my partner Debra and I felt a special bond with these babies. We were virtually strangers yet they let us join them in celebrating the gift of new life that had arrived in the form of two beautiful baby girls. The Gracia family lives in very rustic conditions (much more rustic then the average Ghanian)--no running water, no electrcity, no indoor latrines. As we followed the family into the low-ceilinged thatch-walled hut we joined their friends and family in welcoming the babies home. As we marveled over these perfect little bundles, we asked if we could pray for the children. The parents were quick to consent and so we bowed our heads and prayed for their protection and committed them to the of the work of the Lord. It's good when tears are shed out of wonderment and joy and not from sadness.

We visisted Matell and his wife often throughout the outreach, and I consider them my Ghanian family (actually he is from the Congo and she is from Ghana). I was more then a little surprised, however, when Pastor Matell told me the names He and Benis had decided on for the babies--Nicole Austin Gracia and Sandra Nyame Gracia. It's crazy to think I have a namesake. It's a high honor for sure, but I also consider it a sacred trust. My heart is forever tied to Ghana...and now so is my name.

Patrolling for Pirates

You may have thought the characters of Long John Silver and Captain Hook were merely fictional characters only to be found within the confines of illustrated fairy tales, on the contrary, piracy remains a profitable and active pastime. As I discovered this weekend...

When we get opportunity some of us on the ship like to wander over to the neighboring cargo ships to have to tour. The guaranteed ticket onto other ships is including a few girls in the group because most of the sailors haven't seen women for a few months and get pretty excited about a few pretty faces. My friend Neville (one of our pursers on the ship, our 2 pursers have the very important job of keeping us in good standing with the immigration officials of Ghana) arranged for us to go patrolling on one of the port boats. This particular boat resembled a tug boat but is able to go at a pretty good speed. What I didn't realize until we were given a tour of bottom level of the boat where there was a small locked room, is that the purpose of this particular boat is to patrol outside the harbor for pirates who idle up next to the large cargo ships, climb up their anchors and try to blackmail the crew in order to get fuel and other valuable commoditites. If pirates are found trying to sneak onto other ships they are promptly taken into custody by port security and locked up. The image that instantly came to mind when I heard the word "pirate" was a bearded man with a peg-leg, a black patch over one eye and a squawking green parrot on his right shoulder. I am sad to say we did not come across any pirates, I was really hoping we would. The most exciting thing we encoutered was a dead sea turtle. But...Kojo, our new security friend did take us to the fishing harbor where we got a tour of a fishing trawler. It's hard to fully describe the scene of dockfull of bustling African men with rubber boots up to their knees and sea-soaked pants, throwing fish, swabbing wet wooden decks and being ordered around by an angry Korean man wearing jeans and a baseball cap. As the only girl among all these men and one of the two white people I felt a bit conspicuous walking up the rickety wooden gangway and excusing my way through the crowd of fishermen and down into the smelly hold. Our security friend was determined to get us a free fish to take back with us but thank goodness the angry Korean man said no because I am really not sure what we would have done with it once we arrived back to the ship. Out tour ended back at the main harbor with an open invitation to patrol with them anytime. Maybe next time we will happen upon some pirates...

Maria...

As 2006 came to an end I was reflecting back on the year and thinking of events of the previous months. I was thinking about things and people that impacted me. Circumstances that contributed to me being here right now. One of the people who impacted me the most although she will never know is a young Hatian women named Maria who I helped care for the day before she died of AIDS. She is part of the reason I am now working in the area of HIV/AIDS. The afternoon I spent with her, although I didn't know it at the time, changed my life. I wrote the following essay a couple of months ago...my tribute to Maria.

The young boy standing by the casket is her oldest son. We were able to participate in Maria's funderal. She died the morning after we cared for her.

Maria

A bare concrete floor in a one- room cinder block house lying on foam mattress dying. No one sees, no one knows. She is invisible. Maria is her name, has anybody heard her story? 33 years old with three children, who will care for her children? I have not recorded her story. Why? I told her story for the first time last week. It was months ago but still it was so fresh. I can still see her skeletal frame lying on the thin mattress on the hard floor, her emaciated face. Dim sunlight lit the room through the shuttered window and open front door. I have never smelled death before that day. It was death and something else—isolation, alienation, fear, abandonment. She was too weak to even smile, her eyes were lifeless, knowing, before her neighbors did her certain death. Her neighbors said she got an infection from going down to the river too soon after giving birth. Maria said nothing, her throat was almost swollen shut, she could barely sip small amounts of liquid. She had been lying exactly where we had found her for 10days and had not eaten anything for 7. I wish we could have given some kind of medicine to ease the pain but we had nothing but rehydration powder…and a caring touch. She was lying in her own feces, her cotton gown soaked with urine.

We were appalled. Shocked. Why wasn’t anyone caring for her? Where were her neighbors? Wasn’t there a church in the village? Where were the members of her church? We stopped many times while bathing her as painful bouts of diarrhea seized her weakened frame. We lifted her onto the chamber pot and held her there as she used the toilet. I don’t know what broke my heart more the absence of any family to care for her or the fact that strangers, foreigners, woman who couldn’t even speak her language were now lifting her from her undignified position on the chamber pot and cleaning her raw backside. No gloves, hardly clean water. There were a few neighbors who had come in by this time, involved in caring for Maria but not really. They hung back as we drew near to clean her making sure they weren’t in arms length so that we wouldn’t ask them to assist us as we bathed her with soap and water, gently pulled a clean gown over her head and moved her to a clean mattress. Somehow the ladies managed to find a clean mattress, sheet and nightgown. Numb, we couldn’t stop the tears from running down our faces. We sat by Marias bed and took her frail hand in our own.

“Oh Maria, my friend Maria” Michelle repeated over and over again as we finished cleaning her. We sat all afternoon stroking her face and her arms. Holding her hands and singing to her. At one point Michelle scooted close to Maria’s head and started stroking her cheek as tears ran down her face and trickled off her nose, with her own thin hand Maria reached up and started stroking Michelle’s face. Two women, from two different worlds, with two different stories , and two different futures comforting one another. Maybe they were more alike then I thought. Could it be theirs were the hearts of two mothers who ached for the children who would never know the comforting touch of their mother…who ached for the wholeness that will not be our until eternity? I wish I had recorded the entire afternoon shortly after it happened but I didn’t. I couldn’t. The image of Michelle gently stroking Maria’s face and Maria hers is forever burned into my memory. I thought I could forgot that day with Maria, her last day, but I can’t. I shouldn’t. There is beauty in death, I believe that, but there was very little beauty in Maria’s death. I told her story to a roomful of Ghanaians to inspire them with a real life story of love and comfort. To communicate to them that caring for someone who is dying is a privilege. I hope we were a comfort to her in her last hours. But I wonder how comforting is the touch of a stranger? How meaningful the caress of foreigners? I did not know Maria but I loved her. I did not know Maria but I cried for her. For the her three young children who would never grow up because two of the three were already infected with HIV, the same disease their mother now lay dying of….

Oh Maria, your story lives on in my memory and in the memory of those who spent your final day with you.



“I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will revealed in us. The creation waits in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed…We know the whole of creation had been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up into this present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we are saved. But hope that is seen is so hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.”
Romans 8:18-19; 22-25

Goin' Fishin !

My beautiful roommate Penny recently celebrated her 23rd birthday. In celebration of her special day a bunch of us girls piled into a landrover and spent the day at the bead factory where they demonstrate how they make the hand crafted glass beads, and Boti waterfall. It was a lovely 1.5hr dirve through the "mountains" (really quite small more like hills). Just getting away from the stench of the port is refreshing but the beauty of the Ghanian countryside is magnificent. We enjoyed a picnic at the waterfall and were sitting around chatting when my friend Ruth(in the red shirt with the fish in her hands) found a home rigged fishing pole tangled among the rocks.

Using some of leftover chicken from the picnic I baited the hook and tossed it into the water. My friends were quite skeptical in thinking that I would really catch anything on our pink stringed rudimentary fishing line. As you can see evidenced by these pictures I did catch a fine looking whiskered catfish about a foot in length...quite an exciting moment. Took us all by surprise ....I don't touch slimy, eel-looking fish so my friend Ruth Heroically removed the hook from its mouth and liberated the poor thing. I think the pictures adequately capture the excitement of the moment. The girl standing beside me with the blond hair is my wonderful roommate Caroline from TX, also serving with Mercyships for 2 years.

I am sitting in the Mediterranean lounge, better known as the "med lounge", it's one of the popular hang out spots on the ship. It's a great place to play games, and chat. On special occasions its the venue for concerts. It is one of the few places on the ship that has comfy couches, and it's the location of the "Sala Victoria", the crew cafe. One of these days I will take pictures of different places around the ship and post them so you can have a bit of a tour. It is also the only place we can get wireless on the ship, another reason it is a popular place to congregate in the evenings. It has been deserted for some time, the only other person sitting up here left an hour ago. It is now nearly 2 AM. I am listening to Selah's hymm CD--"Great is Thy Faithfulness", "Be Thou My Vision", "It is Well With my Soul"...these songs never cease to stir my heart.

I was sitting reflecting on my week. I know I have been in Africa a long time when certain things become normal to me. It doesn't startle me anymore to be standing at the railing on promenade deck enjoying the evening breeze and notice a man swimming beside the ship in the nude pushing a bag of rice which he has just stolen from a neighboring ship. Some of them are a little more discreet, and wear underwear but most of them strip down so they don't get their clothes wet as they swim across the harbour to collect rice that has leaked from sacks as it was being unloaded from a cargo ship. The harbour is supposedly secure...and I guess it is because the port officials know about the "swimmers" but choose not to do anything about them. Or I know I have been in Africa a long time when someone mentions needing to buy jeans and I direct them to a large tree on a street corner. This particular tree is covered with jeans, almost to the top (25ft up). It kinda looks like a decorated Christmas tree. Or I know I have been in Ghana a long time when:

• A Roasted Plantain off the street and a handful of peanuts (or groundnuts as they are called here) is what I consider fast food.
• I get excited about seeing a fire truck...the only other emergency vehicle I have seen was an ambulance that was being pushed down the middle of the road by four well- built Ghanian men.
• It doesn't phase me to see 6-7 year old kids with their 2 year old siblings strapped to their backs.
• I fantasize about cold skim milk. The milk we have on the ship was probably invented by NASA to endure twelve monthes in space without spoiling. It expires in Dec 2007, and sometimes resembles yogurt more than it does milk
• I get offered a live chicken as a Christmas gift
• Malaria medicine is taken with breakfast
• 30 people packed into a public bus the size of a church van looks normal
• I stick my hand out the window to signal changing lanes when driving

Have I mentioned that I love living in Africa ?? ...with all its quirks...

Beginning of Advent...

Hello friends! Happy 3rd day of Advent. We had out first advent service tonight. Christmas decorations are appearing on cabin doors and in the lounge areas around the ship. I am starting to get very excited about Christmas--such a special time to celebrate the incredible gift of grace. I was thinking today how beautiful it is that we can live in a constant state of anticipation. Anticipation of our heavenly home, anticipation of wholeness and anticpation of perfect fellowship with our Creator...

I have been spending a lot of time with Corrie Ten Boom lately. She was a dutch woman who lived during World War II. Her family hid Jews when the Germans invaded Holland. She is one of my heros, author of the book "Hiding Place" and many more. I feel like I know her even though she died in 1983 the year I was born. If there were 3 people I could meet who are already dead she would be one of them--the other two would probably be Mother Teresa and maybe Hudson Taylor (I just finished reading one of his books so his story is still fresh in mind). But back to Corrie...she said this while in coversation with a college student "It is only when we are crucified with Christ that we can enter into the joy of His resurrection...do awaken to the reality of this truth. Give up your life for Christ's sake, and you will save it. Sanctification is not a burden, but a blessed release." Those last few words struck me as I realized I have come to think of life as a struggle and this Christian life as a constant battle--against my flesh, against the world, and against the powers of darkness. And I have come to think of this process of sanctification as wearisome...but, is it in fact, a blessed release from the weakness of our human condition? Not a striving for righteousness but a resting in the only One who is righteous?? Praise God for His patience and Mercy towards us!