Birthday & Interns

I, Meredith, LOVE birthdays; not just mine but everyone’s birthdays. I love that we get to celebrate someone and thanking God for them. Mind you, celebrating someone and thanking God for them just shouldn’t be a once a year event but the fact that it’s a party celebration, well....I love it.

I love preparing birthday parties for my friends. I love getting people together and sitting back and watching everyone enjoy each other’s company. I love being a hostess and going all “Martha Stewart” on the event. Even having people over, I make sure that the table is set all nice looking.

I love baking cakes and the recent cake of choice is an ice-cream cake. I found a recipe (and it’s so not hard) and I make ice-cream cakes now. Total hit!

Again, I just love how family and friends come together to celebrate someone.

On October 5^th, was my 34^th birthday; however on October 3^rd, my friends, Jeff &; Carla, put together a surprise birthday party for me. I seriously had NO idea. Sean and I were supposed to have lunch with them and when I showed up at the Coffee Shop (it’s a really sweet restaurant where they serve North American style food!), there were some of my dearest friends under streamers and balloons, saying “Surprise!”

Yummy Cake!

My friend Theresa made a wonderful cake; I got beautiful flowers and an awesome Kenyan style birthday card, signed by everyone. And they contributed for me to have a dresser made. I so desperately need a dresser and Sean knew that and orchestrated that with our friends.

What an awesome group of friends I have here! Thank you again to my dear friends who celebrated my birthday that day with me.

On the actual day of my birthday, I spent the day out at our friend’s, Jeff & Carla, children’s home. It’s called In Step Foundation (http://www.instepfoundation.com/news.php and http://www.rehemaministries.com/ChildrensHome.asp). I spent the day lovin’ on little babies, like Baby Sean (who’s named after my handsome husband!)

Baby Sean & Baby Meredith (inseparable)

Baby Sean & Baby Meredith (totally cute)

Later that evening, Sean took me for dinner to one of our favourite places, the Karibuni Lodge. It’s a friend’s Bed & Breakfast; it overlooks the Cherangani Hills. We sat outside on the veranda with the candles lit; the whole place to ourselves.  Then we back to TI and shared a cake, Chocolate Stout Cake, which Sean had slaved over for HOURS for my birthday. My sweet friend, Kim (and her family) was there and her gift for me was a recipe book. I loved it!

It was a great birthday; I truly enjoyed it. I really am thankful for the friends I have here.

Interns

The interns just completed their fifth week here in the program. I can’t believe how quickly time has gone by. They are a GREAT group of young women who have an INCREDIBLE desire to be here. They want to get involved with so many different projects; they are learning to use their gifts in amazing ways. They want to strive to know about themselves and about God and their relationship with Him. They’re fantastic!

Here are our interns:

Robin:  She loves our friend’s In-Step Children’s Home. She’s helping to paint wonderful pictures on the walls of our Veronica Home kids’ room.  She enjoys getting to know our new Shimo group of young moms. She loves on the sick dog at the TI compound.

Ellie: She loves our Veronica Home kids. She enjoys going to the local hospital and making children laugh. She desires to learn as much Swahili as she can while she’s here. She LOVES to dance.

Rebekah:  She loves serving others all the time, everywhere. She loves going to the local hospital and on any medical visit available. She loves smiling and being around everyone.

 

Kara:  She loves hugging on the Veronica Home kids. She is doing bible stories with our Veronica Home kids every week.  She loves being with the Neema girls.

Chrisy:  She loves on any child she can get her hands on. She’s a wonderful artist and is painting awesome animals on the walls of our Veronica Home kids’ room.  She is learning as much Swahili as she can while she is here.

Saprina:  She loves the Neema girls so much and wants to invest in them. She is learning how to do Kenyan hair in a local salon. She is one of the most real people I have ever met.

Interns with the Shimo Girls Group (young mothers)

Each of these young women has so much to offer the people of Kenya. Their hearts are incredibly big and their passion is just a grand. I’m looking forward to spending six more weeks with them. The time is going by so fast. :-(

Dancing with the Veronica Home kids

Pray for the interns; for the remaining time that they have left here. Pray that they do all that they hoped to have done; that they don’t leave here with a single regret but enjoy every single minute they have left.  Thank you!

Oh, and to our family and friends back in Canada....Happy Thanksgiving! Today, I thank God for each and every one of you. Thank you for your support, love, prayers and encouragement. You have NO IDEA how much Sean and I appreciate it. We love you!

In Him,

Meredith

Hollowness (by Sean)

 Last year, while walking home from town, I had a thought based on an observation of a tree.  For months I walked past the same line of trees along the road to town.  One day, something grabbed my attention.  I had to stop to make sure that my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me.  As I took a second look, my suspicions were correct.  I could see the traffic through one of the trees.  My first thoughts were about how little I pay attention to things around me.  It was clear that this tree in front of me was indeed hollow, and so eaten by termites, that even some of the bark allowed a clear view of the road way.  However, I couldn’t see it in passing, because the outward appearance of the tree said it was healthy.  It still had, and has, leaves on its branches.  There were, and are, flowers blooming on it.

I then thought about how many of us claim to be “Spiritual”, but when we actually get a closer look at ourselves, we are just as hollow as the tree on the roadside.  Whatever our brand of “Spirituality” is (Christians, this means us too…), we aren’t always as put together as we might think.  We can say the right things, and look happy.  We can look like we are doing things to show that we are the brand that we subscribe to.  But, when people really get to know us, when they stop and take a closer look, they can see right through us.

We are going through a teaching series with our interns this year.  The series is called “Get Over Yourself: Rebelling Against the Culture of Narcissism”.  It is from a Canadian church called “The Meeting House”.  You can find the podcast on iTunes, or on their website www.themeetinghouse.ca.  The series talks about how we as a culture have become extremely self-absorbed.  The listeners are challenged to look beyond themselves, and learn to live lives that are other person centered.

As I reflect on the teaching, I am starting to wonder about another perspective.  What if we are hollow because we are neglecting to notice the hollowness of others around us?  It is true that we can allow life’s distractions to eat us up to the point of appearing like we have it all together, when we really don’t.  What would it look like if we focused on the needs of others first?  What if our identity is not bound up in keeping up with the Jones’, but in serving them?

Stresses will come.  I am not saying that when we are other person centered that life will become a bed of roses.  I am wondering if we put so much emphasis on our problems that we fail to see the problems of those around us.  In one of the messages, Bruxy Cavey (the teaching pastor at the Meeting House), put forth the challenge to spend enough time to get ourselves dressed in the morning to be presentable, and then spend an equal amount (if not more) of time dressing ourselves up on the inside.  In another message, he challenged people to take time to list all of the things that they were thankful for each day.  The time of reflection could be in the morning about the previous day’s events, or in the evening about that particular day’s events.

Cavey quoted a study, which had one group of people make a list like the one mentioned above.  The participants made the list every day for ten weeks.  At the end of those ten weeks the people felt better about themselves, had better physical health, and had more desire to meet the needs of others than those who did not make the list of things to be thankful for.

Maybe we aren’t as hollow as we thought.  Maybe we are.  Maybe our hollowness is a result of not noticing that others are hollow and need some kind of service or care.  Take time to stop and really get to know someone.  Enter into intentional, and authentic relationships with people, and see if they are feeling hollow.  The Apostle Paul wrote in his letter to the Romans:

 “Therefore, I urge you brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship.  And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.  For through the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think more highly of himself than he ought to think; but to think so as to have sound judgment, as God has allotted to each a measure of faith.” (Romans 12:1-3 NASB)

The Hospital

The public/government run hospitals in Kenya are definitely not something we’re accustomed to, especially based on some of the beautiful hospitals back in North America. In Kenya, specifically in our town, if the children’s ward is full, it is very common to see two to three children sharing a bed. The mothers, as they are usually the ones that stay in the hospital with their sick children, take turns lying on the bed. The beds are old white metal singles with a very thin mattress covered in plastic. This is the most sanitary as it restricts the fluids, such as urine, feces and blood to seep into the mattress.

The hospitals simply provide a bed along with the nurses and doctors. You, as a patient, must provide when entering the hospital, the following items:

·         Bed sheets

·         Blankets

·         Plate, cup, cutlery (for eating, if staying for a few days)

·         Basin and soap (to bathe yourself or to vomit in if not made in time to the bathroom)

If you are in need of medical care, such as injections, blood drawn, IV, etc., you, as the patient, are hoping that you have a family member or friend that is along there with you. For it is the responsibility of the patient (or hopefully the family member/friend) to go to the pharmacy and get the necessary items needed to do the medical care.  For example, if blood is to be drawn, you need to go to the pharmacy and get the syringes needed, the bandage/cotton to cover the area being “stabbed”, the rubber gloves for the doctor to wear and anything else needed to perform the blood drawn.

There have been many sad stories of children dying due to lack of money from the parents, time of the doctors, etc. There was one story of a baby who needed oxygen in the middle of the night, but the staff said that they had run out of oxygen tanks.  The baby died.  A few hours later, in the morning, an oxygen tank appeared. It turned out that there were full oxygen tanks available when that baby needed it but the keys to the room where the tanks were, went home with one of the staff members.

I, Meredith, am not really keen on the government run hospitals here but I’m really keen on the children who have to come to them.

On Friday mornings, the interns go to the hospital and spend a few hours in the children’s ward. They bring colouring books, story books, bracelets or whatever else they need for them and the children to do together.

It’s an uncomfortable, out of the comfort zone kind of place for most people, probably except for some of those who work in the medical field and enjoy their job.  I, however, LOVE the children and they become my total focus when at the hospital.

On Friday, October 1^st, we went to the children’s ward of the hospital. There is one massive room divided into four sections, fitting four beds on each side of the wall in each section. The entire ward smells like urine, feces and vomit most of the time.  

We separated into groups of two and went into the four different sections of the ward. I usually go around the section and meet the children and mom’s first, introduce myself and then spend an amount of time with each child. With my basic Swahili skills, I can communicate with the children and the moms which does help a lot.  On this particular Friday, we brought I SPY books to do with the children in the ward.

When Rebekah and I went to our designated section, there was a child screaming something as she was crying. I went over to see what was going on and I realized the little girl was getting a needle stuck in her back. I asked another mother in the bed next to this little girl, what was happening and she said that the little girl was getting tested for meningitis. This is done by removing fluid from the spine; a spinal tap. The little girl was screaming, “It’s painful.” in Swahili, over and over again.

The doctor finally got the amount of fluid he needed and within moments, the little girl was asleep, exhausted (and drugged up) from the event. I went over and prayed for this little girl; my heart broke over the pain that she had been going through.

As I looked up from that, down the main hallway, was a little body, completely covered, being taken out of the ward and a mother walking behind it, crying.  A child had just died. It took everything in me not to cry at that moment; cry for the pain of the mother.

I sat down on the bed of a little four-year boy named Given. His mother, Margaret, was the one that I had asked about the little girl getting the spinal tap. Given and I read over an I SPY book and he was such a smart little boy.  Margaret and I talked about why Given was in the hospital, she felt that he too had meningitis. A little while later, another child, a few beds down, was getting ready for the spinal tap and the child was starting to cry. Given looked at his mother, tears welled up in his eyes, his lower lip quivering and said to her in Swahili that he wanted to go home, he didn’t want to be at the hospital anymore. Given knew why he was there and he knew that he would be next on the list to get the spinal tap.

I told Given that I didn’t like needles either but that I knew that he was a strong little boy and that everything would end up being okay. I told him that I would be there with him when he got the needles. I told Given that he could hold my hand and if the needle hurt, he could squeeze my hand as hard as he could.  His mom translated it for me and when she was done, he looked at me with this big, beautiful smile and said in Swahili, “Mama, Mary is my friend.” And then in English, said “Thank you.”

A little while later, the doctor came and injected a drug into Given’s IV. I was told it was to make him become numb; it made him become drugged but definitely not numb.  The drug worked in a matter of seconds; Given was slurring his words, couldn’t keep his head up and barely keeping his eyes open.

Given, even in his state of dopiness, was still begging his mom to go home.

The doctor asked Margaret and I to hold him down. Margaret’s position was to bend Given forward so that the spine was as close to the skin layer as possible. My job was to hold Given’s legs down.  The doctor leaned over and dabbed the area that he would be injecting the needle; Given wasn’t too pleased with this and arched his back. Margaret had to get an even more firm grip on Given and I then needed to hold down his legs and at the same time, pull his arms forward to get maximum bending of his spine.

Given kept fighting, screaming, squirming and the doctor would give him another injection of the drug that was to make him “numb”.  But Given still felt the pain and at one point of us holding him down, his mother’s arm was right in front of his mouth. I don’t know why but Given bit down on his mom’s arm with extreme force, so much so that she screamed in pain and we had to stop so that she could compose herself.

We started again; Margaret held her son in a headlock; I held his legs down with his arms pulled toward me. He fought, screamed, squirmed and cried. He looked up at me at one point and although heavily medication, I saw hatred in his eyes at me. I was holding him down; I was pinning him to the bed so that he could get a needle in the spine.

Even though I told him that I would be there with him while he got the needles, even as I continually told him what a good job he was doing and what a good boy he was, I hated that I was part of the hurting process.

The doctor kept saying how stubborn Given was, that Given just wouldn’t cooperate by sitting still and allowing the doctor to work quick and get out of there.  The doctor wanted to switch beds; I don’t know why; maybe he thought the different height of the next bed or thickness of the next mattress would be make it easier. I don’t know. But it dragged on and on; Given was being poked over and over again.

At one point, I had hit a brick wall. We were taking a break for a second; the doctor had to go and compose himself as he was very frustrated. I stood up straight, my arms and legs were shaking due to the angle I was standing and the pressure that I had to put on Given to hold him down. I was sweating. Robin, one of our interns, looked at me and asked me if I was all right. I said I felt like I was going to throw up. The emotion of it all; the crying and begging from Given was breaking my heart.  I was exhausted.

The whole ordeal lasted about an hour and the doctor still never got the fluid but Given was so stubborn, so drugged up and so exhausted that they had to stop. Within seconds, Given was fast asleep.

I sat with Margaret for awhile; she had sweat around her hairline and over her nose and above her lip. She too was exhausted. I asked her if she was okay and she said that she was tired and that she was sorry that Given had to be in so much pain.  I sat and prayed for her and then hugged her. I leaned over that sweet little boy’s bed, said a prayer and gave him a kiss. We had to go.

I couldn’t even walk home; I was emotionally and physically exhausted after that. I took a piki-piki (pick-ee, pick-ee), also known as a motorcycle taxi, home. That night, I crawled in to bed and for about an hour, all that was going through my head was Given’s crying and screaming. I couldn’t get it out of my head; and I cried; I finally broke.

I’ll probably never see Given again; the next time I go to the hospital, he won’t be there...hopefully because he is better and at his home. But I did get a few hours with him; I did keep my promise to him; I did get some good laughter out of him for a little while and I did get to be there for his mom.

Although emotional, it was a good day; it was what I was supposed to do; it was what I was there for.