"Spirit of the living God, come fall afresh on me.
Come wake me from my sleep.
Blow through the caverns of my soul to overflow" - Jeremy riddle
When I started this blog, I imagined myself posting lots of birth stories and for most of my posts to have happy endings. Hah. Jesus had different plans for my heart this month, as usual. I never intended to only post positive aspects of this trip: people with medicine from a clinic, a smiling orphan, a happy family... That's easier - for you and I both to see and process, but it's not realistic. I know from doing missions before that when you get back home, most people only want to know that you had a great trip, touched lives, "won souls" (you don't want me on that rant), and changed yourself, with lots of those happy pictures I talked about to show them.
As I sit here on a rock in the China Sea, lost, broken and failing to process what I've seen the last few days, I am far from that supet happy girl people expect me to come back as. I have never been so overwhelmed before. I pray for God's Spirit to overflow in me, and I cry out to Him because I feel so helpless and inadequate. I long to help. I long to end these injustices, and give them the hope of Jesus... But I'm going to be honest and real here: I truly want those things, but sometimes I just want to give up. The part of me that is human and selfish and prideful is SO incredibly overwhelmed with the many needs here. It's easier to experience it in the moment, do everything I can, then move on to the next person, the next need, the next injustice - allowing myself to be partially numb to their situation, because I have no earthly idea how to process it. None. It's easier to suppress it, to justify it, telling myself it's because I have to focus on my work; I have a job to do, so I can't lose control of my emotions.
It's terrible; I hate that I feel this way, and I long for my heart to be broken every time I encounter injustice. But the road to being like Jesus isn't easy... It's not easy to have a little piece of your heart be broken multiple times over in a single day - to allow yourself to be that open and vulnerable. For me, I grew up holding everything in - I didn't talk through things, I didn't allow myself to express my feelings (unless they were happy) because it was easier. That part of me is still there, and I constantly catch myself suppressing emotions, and not allowing myself to care as deeply and fiercely as I should being a Christ-follower. That means I would have to be completely vulnerable, and I've always had trouble with that... But times are changing, and as I grow older I am realizing it's much healthier to allow myself to be broken, because I know that God will put me back together again, and it forces me to rely on Him.
Gah.
This all really hit me on Monday, as we did a clinic for the Mangyan tribe on the island of Puerta Galera. It was originally focused on the children, who we learned walk 7-9 miles to go to school. Because of the long walk, 150 of them stay at the school building and only go home every 2 weeks.
We came bearing boxes and boxes of medicines - fever reducers, vitamins, dewormers, antibacterial ointment, antibiotics, mucolytics, and more. 6 of us nursing students, our RN leader, the rest of our team, and a FANTASTIC team of medical and non-medical people from the Philippines and some from that tribe specifically who we could not have managed without. Their heart for their people is outstanding, and is truly the love of Christ working through them. So powerful. They interpreted for us, trusted us, and allowed us into their community... Unreal. I am so grateful for their willingness to allow us to run a clinic, and to come! And come they did... Families, elderly, some children alone - walked for 3-9 hours and maybe more just to come to our clinic.
Ah. We take for granted our access to healthcare.
As I began assessments of people with the interpreter, I was so aware of my inadequacy. I felt like I didn't know anything... I listened to hearts and lungs, took BPs and temperatures, and asked question after question about their symptoms, writing everything down on a paper bag so the other people with us could help decide what medicines to give them.
This was when I caught myself just going through patients, trying not to let myself feel too much or get too attached because I had no idea how to process these things.
A mother holding her baby in her arms who had measles, begging us for something to make her miserable girl better.
An elderly man explaining his symptoms, telling me that he had to plow to make a living, but he could hardly grip the handles and would often fall down in the mud because his legs went stiff and refused to move. And no one would find him so he had to just lie there alone until the pain resided.
A solemn woman who was pregnant with her 4th child and wanted us to abort it. Life was just too hard, she told us. She was the sole provider and her husband drank every night and didn't help care for the family. After some team members talked to and prayed with her, she decided to keep her baby and left the clinic beaming so brightly... A 180° change. Giving mangoes as her thanks (probably her only food that day), she was so grateful... I was reminded of the widow who gave everything she had. Ah, the Holy Spirit was at work.
A small 5 year old boy, telling me he was nauseous and threw up or had diarrhea before his evening meal every night. He's been this way for a year.
An elderly man with headaches and blurred vision for years - which may have been fixed by glasses but we didn't have any.
A girl who came in with horrible sores on her feet because she walks barefoot behind animals every day, through their feces and urine. She can't afford shoes and she may not wear them if she had them. She has already gone barefoot her whole life.
A mother with 5 small children who came in because they all have fevers and stomachaches. I asked her about each child's diet and water intake, and when she got to the youngest (3yr old), she told me that the girl ate cassava (like a potato) and drank around 5 cups of water a day. Most of these people only eat the cheapest food they can find; even rice is a luxury. I explained to the Mom it was good the little girl was drinking water, and she gave me a look that conveyed sadness and pity for this white, American girl who had no clue what poverty really was. She gave me a small smile and says she gives her little girl more water when they don't have money for food. All words left me, and I just sat there in shock. Not because I wasn't used to hearing similar stories, because I was. No, it was the way the mother looked at me with her deep brown eyes, willing me to understand their situation. I felt her pain. I can't imagine the myriad of feelings she must go through all the time, unable to feed her own children. Not to mention that baby girl reminded me a lot of one of my own nieces, Isabelle.
Each family that came had their own story, and there were plenty more just like these. I don't have a a perfect conclusion or the right answers, by any means. I'm just going to continue praying and loving to the best of my ability - allowing myself to be broken and not suppressing the pain. And I ask that you pray for these beautiful people and for my team during our last week back at the clinic. I can't believe our trip is almost over...
I want to be used.
I want to be broken.
I want to understand.
I want to help.
I want to lay aside my selfish desires and the temptation not to be vulnerable or to glorify myself.
I have Elevation Worship's version of Give Me Faith on my phone and it's been bringing me peace as I process. :)
I need you to soften my heart
Break me apart
I need you to pierce through the dark
And cleanse every part of me
All I am, I surrender
Give me faith
To trust what you say
That you're good, and your love is great.
I'm broken inside
I give you my life.
I may be weak,
but your Spirit's STRONG in me.
My flash may fail,
but my God you NEVER will.
