Friendship

"It is a wonderful thing and a strengthening of faith that two souls differing from each other in place, nationality, language, obedience and age should have been thus led into a delightful friendship" 

C.S. Lewis 

   Cross-cultural friendships are hard. Period. Two people coming from completely different, sometimes opposing ways of viewing the world affects everything from food choices to laundry. It is especially difficult when the people don't speak the same native language, or there are major power differentials between them. I believe these relationships are possible, if people are willing to do the necessary work. I also believe these relationships need to be walked out carefully, prayerfully, especially on the part of the person coming in with the power balance on their side.

        Ironically since I am an introvert, relationships are the lifeblood of who I am, and an integral part of my time in Haiti. This culture does community in a way that my individualistic, American mind finds hard to fathom, but I am learning. I am learning to allow the people around me into my joys and my sorrows, my triumphs and my disappointments

      With the Edmes in the States, I have been the only blan around MOHI. When not busy bemoaning the states of international affairs, I have been incredibly blessed by the people I work with and their care for me. One of our translators comes into the clinic every morning to make sure I am okay. One of my coworkers shares his food with me when he knows his wife made my favorites, and runs interference for pushy patients. The woman who runs our guesthouse listens patiently as I stumble through relating clinic stories every day. The groundskeepers and overnight watchman make a point of checking on me every night before they settle down for the evening. This time with these friends and coworkers has been brimming with opportunities for me to experience the truth of the above C.S. Lewis quote.

Blessed are the peacemakers

     I repeat this phrase to myself all the time. Sometimes as a promise, sometimes (when I'm frustrated) as more of an epithet. I have been meditating on what it means to live as a peacemaker more or less since moving to Haiti. I believe there are ways in my day to day life to practice peace, and I am trying to learn to find them. I definitely don't have it down, even as I write this, I have been wrestling down a snippy tongue all day. That wrestling has felt harder in the last few weeks with the incredible influx of violence streaming in, trying to stifle my words and my hope.

    I long for peace in the world around me, for the promises in Isaiah to be fulfilled. I want to see swords made into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks. Lately that hope has felt farther away every time I catch up on world events, or events in my home country. One of my favorite bloggers described it as a summer of sorrow. So I wrestle with the reality in front of me. How do I push for peace for Iraq? For Gaza? How do I turn swords into plowshares in the reality of racism in my home country? How do I live a Resurrection saturated life when Ebola is ravaging West Africa? I don't have answers, although I'm taking suggestions.

Weighing In

     Part of the protocol for clinic visits for children under five is a risk screening for malnutrition. There are different levels of malnutrition, and once a child hits the more severe stages stages, their care becomes specialized and outside of the level of care we can provide. So we try to catch at-risk kids before they get to those severe stages. Through education, deworming, food supplementation and monthly (or biweekly for younger infants) weigh-ins we try to keep  these kids from more severe illness.
        Rounding off our week of healthy twins was a visit from a couple of little girls I've been following closely since last fall. They have a dedicated mama who makes every appointment and finds creative ways to help her daughters get the nutrition they need. Thanks in no small part to her care, these girls have gained enough weight to graduate out of the malnutrition danger zone. I rejoice at how these babies flourishing now. They run and play and laugh like the kids they are, getting ever stronger and healthier. Seeing them was a perfect bookend for the work week.
   

How to make a nurse's day

     I have written before about how, week to week, it feels like different conditions come through the clinic in waves. One week it is hypertension, the next week it is heartburn. Apparently, this is our week for healthy infant twins, or as I'm starting to call it, my favorite week yet! 

     Yesterday we had a set of five week old twins, a boy and a girl. When I met Jhomline and Jhomley two weeks ago, I was concerned about Jhomley both because he was quite a bit smaller than his sister and because being newborn twins in Haiti is no easy task. Yesterday at their weigh in, each baby had gained at least a kilogram. There are few better ways to start the clinic week, than with babies gaining weight, especially when one of those babies snuggles when you pick him up. Ask me how I know.

     Then, this morning in clinic we had ten month old twin girls who weighed in at about 19 pounds each. I held both of them at once, and nearly threw my back out! Both of these girls were healthy overall, with only minor ailments, making their visit that much sweeter.

(Neither Mandina nor Mandana was really feeling the whole "let's take a picture" thing.)

     Completing my delight with today was a pair of healed ankles. I wrote last year about the young man being treated in our clinic for chronic leg ulcers and about our efforts to find a treatment regimen that would work for him. Last fall we found a regimen that seemed to be effective, and we have been using it ever since. His right ankle wound closed up in March (and has stayed that way!). His left ankle has taken a longer, but is now closed up as well. There is nothing like the sight of granulated skin tissue to put a grin on my face and a bounce in my step.

     Weeks like the last one, overwhelmed by grief and the brokenness of the world make these joys even more poignant. Will you join me in prayers of gratitude for the last couple of days in the MOHI clinic?

Haunts of Violence

"Have regard for your covenant,

because haunts of violence fill the dark places of the land."

Psalm 74:20

       There is another, deeper reason I have been wrestling writer's block lately. Ukraine. Iraq. Israel. Missouri. The last few weeks has been bloodier than Ancient Rome's Coliseum. Every time I check the news I find more reasons to grieve and fewer words to talk (or write) about them.
      I wrote a couple of months ago about how I have been learning about lament. I don't believe in coincidence, and I don't believe it is a mistake that I have been reading Jeremiah, Lamentations and some writings from Walter Brueggeman, all writers who feel deeply the brokenness of the world around them. My heart yearns for justice and healing, mourning the damage we do one another and the land around us. I find myself on my knees crying out with the Psalmist for my God to remember His covenant and See the violence all around.

Routine

      I have fallen into a routine (or alternatively, a rut) recently. I get up work-out, eat breakfast, yell at the cats for trying to steal my breakfast, go to clinic, and see patients. I spend the afternoons trying to balance catching up on clinic tasks with the demands of the kids that come in to hang out. Then I go home, contemplate cleaning my room, pick up a book instead, read for awhile and go to sleep. The next day, I get up and do it again. Saturdays are catch up on everything that didn't get done this week days, and Sundays are church. In between it all I do a lot of sweating.
    I do not thrive on routine. At all. I like change, adventure and not really being able to predict what tomorrow will look like. The routine leaves me feeling like I don't have anything to blog about. The days blur together and I end up with a series of blog posts that are mostly pictures.
     In my numbness at my routine, I can lose sight of the grace filled moments in my day. Ample time laughing with my gaggle of half grown boys. Favorite foods from the coworker whose gift is hospitality and who knows how much I love his wife's coking. The steady stream of people who have been checking on me with the Edmes out of the country. The taken for granted grace of medicines working like I want them to for some of my sicker patients. My life is filled with blessings, and in my day to day life I don't want to miss it. I don't want to grow familiar with the blessing and miss the beauty.

This week in pictures

      I have writer's block again this week, and cannot seem to get my thoughts into words. So, here are some pictures from clinic.

This is Mariange. She handles the morning clinic sign in process.

Mobile clinic in St. Etienne.

My work space.

                                 

Waiting in line to be seen.

This little guy was less than enthused about getting his temperature taken.

Things got a little better for him later in the morning, after a lollipop.

Good Morning Grand Goave!

This was the view from my house this morning. This is also a compelling reason to get up early at my house.

Women's Conference part 2

       The rest of this week with filled with women's conference activities. Wednesday we had had teaching seminars focused on younger women and their health needs, Thursday we a time with the older women of our community, and Friday was a day for new moms. Along with classes on everything from breastfeeding to menopause, all of the attendees got a chance to see our practitioners, make a craft and spend some time in a relaxation room getting their nails done and being pampered. It was a flurry of activity, but it was a beautiful flurry.