A brother in the Lord, gave me a book, on a recent mission trip. "When Charity Destroy's Dignity" by Glenn J. Schwartz. I confess I haven't read it all the way through yet, a year later. It's written for better minds than mine, and I'll need help to get through it, but I get the gist of it. In our zeal to help, we create dependants on the church organization, not the Lord. We enable in the most harmful ways, instead of enabling personal dignity and courage. A hand up, not a hand out as the saying goes.
There is a gut response to seeing need. You want to meet it. Now. And this is our western culture, that more "stuff" will make it better. I had a list as long as my arm of stuff I wanted to drum up for the Infirmary. And I haven't given up on some of it...it's still my wish to make it a bit more comfortable, especially for the bedridden.
Marla probably has to go through this with everyone, but I had to go through the "fix it" phase of my adaptation to the culture.
You give all this stuff, watch it be stolen, and realize..there is no fixing it. Not on a human level anyway. The real need is Jesus Christ and the love and healing He brings. Only He changes the heart. Only He gives faith that He will meet my need, and I don't have to steal from this yet poorer person than myself. It's all about the heart. So I can tear down the Infirmary, and rebuild it to a cutting edge facility and the "condition" will remain the same. Nothing will have changed. Their food will still be stolen, equipment stolen and sold, and I will come back to a stripped bare building, with hungry people in it.
You can't judge it. A poverty culture creates poverty mentality...or maybe it's the other way around. You see that in the States by people who have plenty, but are just afraid of not having enough. Even if you have "enough", you might not tomorrow, so take what you can now. It's dominated by fear. And if you've watched your children go hungry, you can understand that. It's far too complicated to fix.
The only thing that can fix deep spiritual and cultural problems is Jesus. Because He works from the inside out.
Because the Infirmary houses people who can not work, can not provide for themselves, and are incapable of sustaining their lives, we help with food and diapers and the luxury of a trip to the beach just for fun. I hope in the future, maybe several Jamaican church's might partner together to visit and love on the residents, and to help insure that needs are met. I pray for western missionaries to be phased out, and Jamaican missionaries raised up! But when everyone is poor, it's hard.
For now, they need help from the body. The church in America is not poor. And it's our job, to share with our brother's and sister's the world over. That is MY church in Jamaica. That's part of MY body. I think it shows the importance of working through the local body of Christ only, where ever you happen to go, because we are to be a unified body first, everyone sharing and meeting need. The object is to reveal God's faithfulness, not ours. God's provision, not my provision. Dependence on God...not me. We're just a reflection. And in that way, draw others to Christ as they feel His love through His people. Always...the object of any mission is to lift up Jesus, so that if He is lifted up He will draw all men unto Himself.
I've come to the conclusion that this is why welfare programs don't work. They create dependence on a government, that has no power to give life, not God, who has the power to give life, transform it, changing both people and circumstances. We do harm instead of good by taking away the pressure and pain that encourages us to change, encourages us to seek God for relief.
We do spiritual harm, when we say, here is your portion from the government, no need to change anything, rather than, here is a share of God's provision, and He has a plan for your life. He loves you.
Alright, off my soapbox....
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Soap Nazi
It was a joke after my day working at one of the clinics. Bonnygate is one of the favorites I think of just about everyone. Partway up the mountain, it's Pastor Kermit's territory, a local pastor that Marla has partnered with for many years, and a friendly and pretty organized group. My first trip, not having much to do at the time, I was given a big bag of miscellaneous soaps and hygiene items to give away. I had tried several different places trying to keep from creating a "Who" effect. (the rock band, remember?)
I was causing crowd control problems wherever I went....freebies you know?
I was praying over people then giving them a mixed bag of items to take home. A big line formed with people asking me to pray for them. I'm feeling pretty spiritual what with all the request for prayer, and I'm praying for one after another, until suddenly I think the person in front of me seems familiar. It happens again, and I realize they are simply going around the building and coming back and getting in line to get more soap! I say, to the woman in line...don't I know you? She starts giggling sheepishly, and I tell her, humorously, to scram and don't let me see her back in line. We laughed at each other as she walked away. They all start grinning at this point because they know I can't tell who's been in line and who hasn't. I ended up going inside the medical clinic and only giving what soaps I had left to those seeing the Doctors. And since I was guarding my bag pretty zealously, ...Soap Nazi. NO SOAP FOR YOU!
I was causing crowd control problems wherever I went....freebies you know?
I was praying over people then giving them a mixed bag of items to take home. A big line formed with people asking me to pray for them. I'm feeling pretty spiritual what with all the request for prayer, and I'm praying for one after another, until suddenly I think the person in front of me seems familiar. It happens again, and I realize they are simply going around the building and coming back and getting in line to get more soap! I say, to the woman in line...don't I know you? She starts giggling sheepishly, and I tell her, humorously, to scram and don't let me see her back in line. We laughed at each other as she walked away. They all start grinning at this point because they know I can't tell who's been in line and who hasn't. I ended up going inside the medical clinic and only giving what soaps I had left to those seeing the Doctors. And since I was guarding my bag pretty zealously, ...Soap Nazi. NO SOAP FOR YOU!
Alone and unknown
This entry won't be long. It's just to pause and remember a gentleman that I didn't even really meet, except to try and give him a drink. He was lying facing the wall. Sonny, in the neighboring bed told me he was very sick, and wasn't moving much. The next morning when I got there the man was dead. Dying at the Infirmary is not necessarily a sad thing, as to live in that environment is hard, and going to heaven preferable. But I didn't even know his name. I don't think Sonny knew him either. Just one of the transients, who come to die. I just can't imagine passing from life, with no one. No one to care. Did he have family somewhere? A friend? Someone that would miss him? I have to comfort myself, that we are never alone as believers in Jesus. He's there, waiting to walk us home when our time comes. Our passing is never unnoticed by Him.
"Not even a sparrow falls to the ground without the Father...." thank you Lord, that you will never leave us or forsake us. We don't have to fear being alone....ever.
"Not even a sparrow falls to the ground without the Father...." thank you Lord, that you will never leave us or forsake us. We don't have to fear being alone....ever.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Miss Mavis
Mavis is one of the elderly residents in the back of the ward. She came not that long ago in between my visits. I'm not sure exactly what her condition is. She cannot move anything but her head. She is diabetic, so must completely depend upon the Aids to get her a snack if she feels her blood sugar dropping, which is a scary thing for her. I sat and fed her dinner one night and got to know her a little. She's a very sweet woman, very sad, and frightened to be at the Infirmary....with good reason, being unable to move and at the mercy of everyone. She cries as she tells me her children didn't want her anymore. (a common story I hear among the residents) We pray for her children, that God will soften their hearts, and change them. She doesn't seem to care if they come get her as much as she just wants to see them before she dies. It's hard to leave her each day. Her needs are so great, and her abandonment so complete. She feels abandoned by God too, and I think, that's why I'm there. To remind her He has not forgotten her. It's useless to even try and figure out what the meaning is in all this suffering. But I know He is good. So He doesn't do "bad" things. And this is overcoming faith...that in the midst of our suffering, we trust, because He is good. He is trustworthy. And He's there..in that bed with Miss Mavis. How His heart must break also as we wait for the answer to our prayers. That her children will come see her and tell her they love her, just one more time.
Mavis is one that they pick up and carry to the beach with the others. I find her later, lying in the surf, leaning up against someone who is supporting her. I ask her how she feels, how the water feels, and she smiles so big and says, "wonderful!!!" Once home and back in bed, she says she did not know there were such wonderful people in the world, and wondered why they cared about her. Oh Jesus...shine through us. Let her see you. Your wonderful! You care!
I pray with her, before I go and kiss her, both of us crying, not wanting to leave because I don't know if this is the last time I'll see her, and she says also, "I don't know if I'll be here when you get back." I can hardly stand it that it's going to be another year before I can go down. Lord send your people. And tell Miss Mavis I love her.
Mavis is one that they pick up and carry to the beach with the others. I find her later, lying in the surf, leaning up against someone who is supporting her. I ask her how she feels, how the water feels, and she smiles so big and says, "wonderful!!!" Once home and back in bed, she says she did not know there were such wonderful people in the world, and wondered why they cared about her. Oh Jesus...shine through us. Let her see you. Your wonderful! You care!
I pray with her, before I go and kiss her, both of us crying, not wanting to leave because I don't know if this is the last time I'll see her, and she says also, "I don't know if I'll be here when you get back." I can hardly stand it that it's going to be another year before I can go down. Lord send your people. And tell Miss Mavis I love her.
Sharon
Sharon is the developmentally challenged adult that hits if you remember. The "wicked" one.
She actually can be very loving, she just gets frustrated easily. She takes hold of your wrist in a vice like clamp, and the more you try to get her off the tighter she holds. She slugged one of the mission visitors really hard. I think the visitor was frightened a little by the iron clamp she had on her arm, and tried to get away. I have a theory, that Sharon is like the little old lady that was sucking my hands into her mouth because she was so hungry. Sharon is so hungry for touch, hugs, love that she grabs and forces, and gets angry when it's rejected. I'm going to experiment next time, by hugging her when she clamps onto my arm. Just stop what I'm doing and hold her a minute. We'll see what happens...a smile for her, or a bruise for me!
She broke my heart on the last beach trip. We had a lot of help this trip so almost everyone in the Infirmary got to go, bedridden, paralyzed...they were all carried onto the bus. I grinned to myself thinking, at home, they would have been having a heart attack at the liability of taking these patients to the beach.
Like in town one day, there was a fender bender, and people gathered to take sides, and yell advice...abuse, whatever. Because there are no jobs, there are a lot of people just hanging in the streets. Looks like a festival is going on usually. Anyway, everybody gets out, looks at the damage, yells, shakes fists in the air...then just get in their cars and leave. There's no insurance to cover you....you just go home with a dent in your car, and if your lucky, no one's hurt. The liability is totally your own.
So I'm helping residents find clothing they can wear to the beach, and I notice Sharon. She runs and gets her "beach clothes" on, and keeps wanting me to take her out to the bus. I'm becoming more and more upset because I know that she is the one who gets horribly carsick, so is not allowed to go. She gets more frantic, wanting to go, and I have to sit her down on her bed and try to explain to her why she has to stay. She fully understood my words, because she got sadder and sadder and just sat on the edge of her bed and hung her head, utterly limp. The bus drivers are picky about their buses. Most are emblazoned across the top of the windshield with their nick names, or philosophy of life. It's like part of their identity. They are proud of them and keep them very clean. They will not be happy with someone hurling all over the place.
I had to wait and go with the last bunch, and she was still sitting there...head hanging. I wish I would have stayed. I wanted to see Princess in the water at the beach, her first time to get to go, and selfishly...I went. I should have stayed with Sharon. It haunts me how abandoned she must have felt. How much does she understand? What does she feel? One of the Aids said she came from a family that beat her. Explains the hitting. And the need for loving touch.
Next time I'm hoping to take Dramamine, and sneak her past. If not, I'll stay and we'll get a bucket of water to play in or something. Or maybe we'll just hug....
She actually can be very loving, she just gets frustrated easily. She takes hold of your wrist in a vice like clamp, and the more you try to get her off the tighter she holds. She slugged one of the mission visitors really hard. I think the visitor was frightened a little by the iron clamp she had on her arm, and tried to get away. I have a theory, that Sharon is like the little old lady that was sucking my hands into her mouth because she was so hungry. Sharon is so hungry for touch, hugs, love that she grabs and forces, and gets angry when it's rejected. I'm going to experiment next time, by hugging her when she clamps onto my arm. Just stop what I'm doing and hold her a minute. We'll see what happens...a smile for her, or a bruise for me!
She broke my heart on the last beach trip. We had a lot of help this trip so almost everyone in the Infirmary got to go, bedridden, paralyzed...they were all carried onto the bus. I grinned to myself thinking, at home, they would have been having a heart attack at the liability of taking these patients to the beach.
Like in town one day, there was a fender bender, and people gathered to take sides, and yell advice...abuse, whatever. Because there are no jobs, there are a lot of people just hanging in the streets. Looks like a festival is going on usually. Anyway, everybody gets out, looks at the damage, yells, shakes fists in the air...then just get in their cars and leave. There's no insurance to cover you....you just go home with a dent in your car, and if your lucky, no one's hurt. The liability is totally your own.
So I'm helping residents find clothing they can wear to the beach, and I notice Sharon. She runs and gets her "beach clothes" on, and keeps wanting me to take her out to the bus. I'm becoming more and more upset because I know that she is the one who gets horribly carsick, so is not allowed to go. She gets more frantic, wanting to go, and I have to sit her down on her bed and try to explain to her why she has to stay. She fully understood my words, because she got sadder and sadder and just sat on the edge of her bed and hung her head, utterly limp. The bus drivers are picky about their buses. Most are emblazoned across the top of the windshield with their nick names, or philosophy of life. It's like part of their identity. They are proud of them and keep them very clean. They will not be happy with someone hurling all over the place.
I had to wait and go with the last bunch, and she was still sitting there...head hanging. I wish I would have stayed. I wanted to see Princess in the water at the beach, her first time to get to go, and selfishly...I went. I should have stayed with Sharon. It haunts me how abandoned she must have felt. How much does she understand? What does she feel? One of the Aids said she came from a family that beat her. Explains the hitting. And the need for loving touch.
Next time I'm hoping to take Dramamine, and sneak her past. If not, I'll stay and we'll get a bucket of water to play in or something. Or maybe we'll just hug....
Thursday, July 16, 2009
A personal note on Manna
One day, on one of the first trips I took to Jamaica, I remember sitting in the evening several days into the trip and realizing I wasn't hungry. In fact, I realized I hadn't cared about food in several days or thought much about it. The reason I was stunned momentarily is because that is my great struggle, or actually the symptom of my great struggle to be precise. So I think, "whoa...what's up with that?!" As I sit and pray, the Lord leads me to a scripture that blows me away. The disciples have gone into town to get some food, and Jesus has encountered the woman at the well. He's sitting there waiting for them, and they return and urge him to eat. He responds, "I have food to eat that you don't know of." They immediately begin to assume someone brought him food. John 4:34
"My food, is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work."
Why didn't I care about food? Because I was doing the will of the Father. At first I thought, wow, I've found the answer to the 'great hunger.' It was partially correct. There is great satisfaction in being used by God. It is a craving in every soul to make some sort of difference, good or even bad for those who hate Him. But it's taken me longer to properly diagnose more precisely what was going on. When on a mission trip...you are thinking of nothing except, Jesus, and your task at hand. There are no mundane worries, interruptions, and mindless busyness to distract you. Your busy, but there is purpose, focus...passion. Even that is not the secret though....the secret is how this purpose, focus and passion is acquired.
Matthew 6:33, "Seek me first, and all these things will be given to you."
I was spending more time with God seeking Him, asking His will, looking for His purpose. I had my mind on one thing. Jesus, and what He wanted of me. As the Lord met me in my secret place, I was filled. Only to go be poured out...that sense of satisfaction....to be emptied and then to be filled again, by Him. Nothing less than the presence of God himself. We drain ourselves with our daily lives, and if we're not spending quality time with Him getting filled, then we will fill the emptyness. And if we are serving without being filled with Him, this to will drain us. Jesus made a point to go off by himself to pray and be with the Father.
He said He only did what He saw the Father do. He was focused on that one thing, to glorify the Father and reveal Him to us.
I have learned that to focus on my 'one thing', Jesus, brings health to all area's of my life. Oh, it's a fight. I have habits from years of behavior. But more and more the things of life, pale in comparison to Jesus Christ, to seeking Him, enjoying His presence, and serving Him. I've experienced no sudden deliverance....it's just this slow process where He turns my eye's from worthless things. Time is short...whether I die or Jesus comes back, it's short. After committing to monthly retreats, morning study, worship, fasting, and just soaking at His feet, my desires are changing. Jesus in, garbage out. And He becomes the reward, not all the things the world looks for...recognition, praise, influence. We look for love, satisfaction, peace from so many dry wells, and broken cisterns. Human love, sex, money, education, position, prestige and power. And for Christians, the danger is even greater...we look for it in "good" things. Ministry, study, believing the right things and being "good". The great hunger....the thirst that we are desperately trying to satisfy is actually a gift within given by God and has one source of satisfaction. Jesus Himself.
The Shema that Jews recite says, "Hear O' Israel, the Lord your God, the Lord is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your Heart, with all your soul and all your strength. "
Jesus reiterated that this was the first and most important commandment. Only until we have that in place will we then fulfill the second, which is like it.
And you shall love your neighbor as yourself. When the first is in place...the others will be in place, because when we are in love with Jesus....our desires change. We love what He loves.
How do you fall in love? By spending time with Him and most importantly being loved by Him. (He loved us first! Say yes to Him, and receive it) Read His word...not to memorize and quote scripture....to amass knowledge, but to intimately know the One you say you believe in. Pray...talk to Him. He actually doesn't speak King James English. He's hip! Set apart time to worship alone...sing to Him...dance a little! Tell Him out loud, "I love you Jesus!!" Fast...fasting is violent love. It breaks off unbelief...the terminal disease of the spirit. And most important....just be with Him and listen. You'll have to fight the urges to "do" something, the wandering mind....boredom....restlessness. But if you persevere, I guarantee, your going to receive something you didn't know was possible.
"My food, is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work."
Why didn't I care about food? Because I was doing the will of the Father. At first I thought, wow, I've found the answer to the 'great hunger.' It was partially correct. There is great satisfaction in being used by God. It is a craving in every soul to make some sort of difference, good or even bad for those who hate Him. But it's taken me longer to properly diagnose more precisely what was going on. When on a mission trip...you are thinking of nothing except, Jesus, and your task at hand. There are no mundane worries, interruptions, and mindless busyness to distract you. Your busy, but there is purpose, focus...passion. Even that is not the secret though....the secret is how this purpose, focus and passion is acquired.
Matthew 6:33, "Seek me first, and all these things will be given to you."
I was spending more time with God seeking Him, asking His will, looking for His purpose. I had my mind on one thing. Jesus, and what He wanted of me. As the Lord met me in my secret place, I was filled. Only to go be poured out...that sense of satisfaction....to be emptied and then to be filled again, by Him. Nothing less than the presence of God himself. We drain ourselves with our daily lives, and if we're not spending quality time with Him getting filled, then we will fill the emptyness. And if we are serving without being filled with Him, this to will drain us. Jesus made a point to go off by himself to pray and be with the Father.
He said He only did what He saw the Father do. He was focused on that one thing, to glorify the Father and reveal Him to us.
I have learned that to focus on my 'one thing', Jesus, brings health to all area's of my life. Oh, it's a fight. I have habits from years of behavior. But more and more the things of life, pale in comparison to Jesus Christ, to seeking Him, enjoying His presence, and serving Him. I've experienced no sudden deliverance....it's just this slow process where He turns my eye's from worthless things. Time is short...whether I die or Jesus comes back, it's short. After committing to monthly retreats, morning study, worship, fasting, and just soaking at His feet, my desires are changing. Jesus in, garbage out. And He becomes the reward, not all the things the world looks for...recognition, praise, influence. We look for love, satisfaction, peace from so many dry wells, and broken cisterns. Human love, sex, money, education, position, prestige and power. And for Christians, the danger is even greater...we look for it in "good" things. Ministry, study, believing the right things and being "good". The great hunger....the thirst that we are desperately trying to satisfy is actually a gift within given by God and has one source of satisfaction. Jesus Himself.
The Shema that Jews recite says, "Hear O' Israel, the Lord your God, the Lord is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your Heart, with all your soul and all your strength. "
Jesus reiterated that this was the first and most important commandment. Only until we have that in place will we then fulfill the second, which is like it.
And you shall love your neighbor as yourself. When the first is in place...the others will be in place, because when we are in love with Jesus....our desires change. We love what He loves.
How do you fall in love? By spending time with Him and most importantly being loved by Him. (He loved us first! Say yes to Him, and receive it) Read His word...not to memorize and quote scripture....to amass knowledge, but to intimately know the One you say you believe in. Pray...talk to Him. He actually doesn't speak King James English. He's hip! Set apart time to worship alone...sing to Him...dance a little! Tell Him out loud, "I love you Jesus!!" Fast...fasting is violent love. It breaks off unbelief...the terminal disease of the spirit. And most important....just be with Him and listen. You'll have to fight the urges to "do" something, the wandering mind....boredom....restlessness. But if you persevere, I guarantee, your going to receive something you didn't know was possible.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
DarDar
Mother Teresa said, "everyone should die a beautiful death." She would pick up people off the street, take them to her mission, bathe them, wrap them in a clean sheet, maybe feed them if they could eat, and hold them.
That's what I long for, for that back room at the Infirmary. A bath to make them feel better, a fresh clean bed, a full belly, and most of all someone to hold them and tell them how much God loves them, and that they can let go, and go home if they are ready.
DarDar was lying pretty much comatose after a major stroke the day before I got there. They had her covered with an old wool blanket, and she was left alone to die. Sylvia walked back to her bed with me, and we stood gazing at her for a moment. She said, "she's travelin". I thought, yes....that's very true. I sat on DarDar's bed much of the week, singing to her. Sylvia taught me a song about going home, that DarDar would know.
"I'll soon be done, with trouble and trials
When I get home, on the other side
I'm gonna shake the hands of my elders
Tell everybody good mornin
I'm gonna sit down beside my Jesus
I'm gonna sit down and rest a little while."
Some of the time I sang Amazing Grace.
Sometimes I just talked to her or prayed over her. I told her it was ok..she could go home. Prayed that the Lord would take any pain away in her last days. I could hardly stand to leave her. It just seemed so wrong for her to lay there alone. A child of God....the apple of His eye....uncared for. The matron told me she actually sipped some tea from a straw the next day! How powerful is even the tiniest gift of love! DarDar was alive when I left to come home to the states, and I made Sylvia promise to sing her home. DarDar went home a couple days later, and I'm glad. It wasn't an emotion I thought I would feel. But when you think of what she traded for her temporal life....it makes you happy!
I want to find where they bury the residents and take some flowers. I know they are not there, but they beg to be remembered in my mind. I want to remember them....especially since I know I'll be seeing them again.
That's what I long for, for that back room at the Infirmary. A bath to make them feel better, a fresh clean bed, a full belly, and most of all someone to hold them and tell them how much God loves them, and that they can let go, and go home if they are ready.
DarDar was lying pretty much comatose after a major stroke the day before I got there. They had her covered with an old wool blanket, and she was left alone to die. Sylvia walked back to her bed with me, and we stood gazing at her for a moment. She said, "she's travelin". I thought, yes....that's very true. I sat on DarDar's bed much of the week, singing to her. Sylvia taught me a song about going home, that DarDar would know.
"I'll soon be done, with trouble and trials
When I get home, on the other side
I'm gonna shake the hands of my elders
Tell everybody good mornin
I'm gonna sit down beside my Jesus
I'm gonna sit down and rest a little while."
Some of the time I sang Amazing Grace.
Sometimes I just talked to her or prayed over her. I told her it was ok..she could go home. Prayed that the Lord would take any pain away in her last days. I could hardly stand to leave her. It just seemed so wrong for her to lay there alone. A child of God....the apple of His eye....uncared for. The matron told me she actually sipped some tea from a straw the next day! How powerful is even the tiniest gift of love! DarDar was alive when I left to come home to the states, and I made Sylvia promise to sing her home. DarDar went home a couple days later, and I'm glad. It wasn't an emotion I thought I would feel. But when you think of what she traded for her temporal life....it makes you happy!
I want to find where they bury the residents and take some flowers. I know they are not there, but they beg to be remembered in my mind. I want to remember them....especially since I know I'll be seeing them again.
Starving for attention
There is one very weak elderly lady in the back of the ward. The women's ward is two separate rooms, divided by a cubicle used as a sort of nursing station. There is a small bed in there to isolate patients that are ill. The front ward is full of ambulatory people who can more or less care for themselves. The back ward is for the bedridden, or those who need more assistance. The sicker you are, the farther back you get put. Most of the dying are in the end of this room. This lady, who also appears blind, if the milkiness of her eye's are any clue, is seated on an old metal chair at the end of her bed, but leaning over precariously, too weak to hold herself up. The cook brings lunch in old 5 gallon buckets. She dishes out to everyone waiting and gets bowls filled for the other residents who are bedridden. She stands in front of this lady, and taps her with the bowl several times. When she doesn't take it she just starts to walk away. I tell her to stop, I'll feed her. Evidently...if you can't feed yourself, you don't eat. In the bowl, is a broth of undetermined nature, with what looks like a half of potato, some meat slivers on what looks like a neckbone, and a couple of thick dumplings. I sit her up, and ask someone to get me a spoon. The Aid wanders away towards the kitchen, never to return. I start feeding her with my fingers, and as soon as the food touches her lips she startles me by gripping my hands with amazing strength, pressing the food into her mouth. She is so hungry, she is sucking my hands into her mouth! It's all I can do to pull away and get more out of the bowl, so desperate is she to eat. I wonder how long it's been? With no teeth, she gnaws on the potato mashing it with her gums, and tried hard to eat the dumpling but it is like shoe leather and simply won't separate. I think eventually she just swallowed the whole thing. I learned not to give her a drink out of a disposable cup, because she crushes it to her mouth trying to keep it from being taken away. These people tear my heart out. I'm used to state of the art nursing facilities. Clean, crisp bed linens. Soft fleeces for sore, bony hips and buttocks. I don't care that the sheets are old, really...but some were lying on old dresses or suits. One gentleman in the other building slept on a garbage bag filled with clothing for his pillow. Plastic in Jamaica heat!
The very first lady I had a real conversation with, was named Gwendolyn. She was in the back corner because she was sick. I knelt down to talk to her, and I prayed for her healing, and then buddy did she pray for me!!! But she was laying on a filthy mattress, about 3-4 inches thick, and her head was on a pillow covered in mildew. For a long time, I just wanted to buy equipment and things for the Infirmary. I just wanted to see them in a comfortable clean bed, with a clean fresh pillow. Nothing fancy. A hospital bed that could be raised up so that they could engage in life around them....change position for pete's sake! It just seemed so awful. What I know now, is that were you to ask them, they would tell you how grateful they are to have a bed, under a roof, protected from the elements, and any soup at all bad or good. They don't love it there....most have memories of something somewhat better anyway, but they are grateful. And in the light of their gratitude, I see my immense ingratitude. When is the last time I can remember being grateful for my bed..my pillow, a cold cup of water ....there is only 1 poor person in the room, and she's not the one in the moldy bed.
The very first lady I had a real conversation with, was named Gwendolyn. She was in the back corner because she was sick. I knelt down to talk to her, and I prayed for her healing, and then buddy did she pray for me!!! But she was laying on a filthy mattress, about 3-4 inches thick, and her head was on a pillow covered in mildew. For a long time, I just wanted to buy equipment and things for the Infirmary. I just wanted to see them in a comfortable clean bed, with a clean fresh pillow. Nothing fancy. A hospital bed that could be raised up so that they could engage in life around them....change position for pete's sake! It just seemed so awful. What I know now, is that were you to ask them, they would tell you how grateful they are to have a bed, under a roof, protected from the elements, and any soup at all bad or good. They don't love it there....most have memories of something somewhat better anyway, but they are grateful. And in the light of their gratitude, I see my immense ingratitude. When is the last time I can remember being grateful for my bed..my pillow, a cold cup of water ....there is only 1 poor person in the room, and she's not the one in the moldy bed.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
WHERE MY HEART IS
I decided after a few trips to Jamaica, that though I really enjoy the medical clinics with the Dr.'s and nurses, I feel most useful at the Infirmary. Someone is usually kind enough to go out of their way a little to drop me off there, while the others head out to the clinic for the day. To go up alone is a little intimidating. Most are, but not everyone, is friendly. One of the mission guests reported an abusive incident by one of the staff, and ever since then, I am looked upon with more suspicion it seems. I have carefully tried to build relationships with the staff, and when I bring food treats, I make sure they get some as well. We have had some staff retreats for educational and relational purposes, and to simply tell them we know what a tough job they have and how much it is appreciated. We really want to encourage them, in what is a very tough occupation. and is considered a job of very low status there. I tell them it is a Call of God. A job of the highest order.
I usually take up a couple of water coolers, and spend my day, making sure everyone gets a cup of water. Some patients are able to get water for themselves, and others who are bedridden can not. Sometimes when I take water to Princess she drinks 5,6,7 glasses if I let her. I don't know if she's that thirsty or afraid that she won't get anymore when I leave. I try to take enough to make 2 rounds through each of the wards. It takes all day to do that, and spend a moment with each person. I'm really looking forward to the time, God willing, I take a team up there and have many hearts and hands to work. Then I'll be able to focus more on each individual, and maybe have time to get to know them better, know their story's and talk about Jesus. I'm sure they have more to teach me about Jesus, than I have to teach them, that's for certain.
I was going from patient to patient one day, and suddenly just felt very disheartened. What was this accomplishing? I was changing nothing. Nothing was going to be any better the next day for these people, because I was there. As I was handing a cup of water to one woman, I hear in my spirit, "even a cup of cold water given in My name." The reference is Mark 9:41, where we are told that to give even a cup of water in Jesus name to His own, has a reward.
Well, I'm not looking for the reward, but if loving with a cup of water to His own pleases Him, it's not insignificant to Him, evidently. It's because we're trained to only look for the big things, not the small. Steve told me after this particular day, "you made their day better, today, because you were there. That's what you have to focus on."
One of the younger men when given his cup of ice water, took it
gently in both hands and turning to the others said with a grin and a giggle, "it's SO COLD!"
Even now I want to cry when I think of that memory. Icewater! All it was, was icewater.
I may be there to serve, but it's me that's getting the lessons. My awareness of my poverty grows with each trip up that hill.
It makes me think of what Mother Teresa said to her hosts, when she received the Nobel Peace Prize. They had thrown her a lavish party, and when asked what she thought, she said" Never have I seen such poverty." (ouch)
Which just goes to show you, never try to dazzle with wealth, a nun who has taken a vow of poverty to serve the poor!
Rev. 3:17 - because you say, "I am rich and have become wealthy, and have need of nothing, and do not know that you are wretched, poor, blind and naked, I counsel you to buy from Me gold refined in the fire, that you may be rich, and white garments that you may be clothed, and the shame of your nakedness would not be revealed; and anoint your eye's with salve that you might see; as many as I love, I rebuke and chasten, be therefore zealous and repent."
Yes...Mama T had her eye's wide open. I like to think of her in heaven, with the people she served and loved. She sits with them, not with a crust of bread in poverty, but at the banqueting table of the Lord himself. She probably is thinking, "now THIS is a party!"
I usually take up a couple of water coolers, and spend my day, making sure everyone gets a cup of water. Some patients are able to get water for themselves, and others who are bedridden can not. Sometimes when I take water to Princess she drinks 5,6,7 glasses if I let her. I don't know if she's that thirsty or afraid that she won't get anymore when I leave. I try to take enough to make 2 rounds through each of the wards. It takes all day to do that, and spend a moment with each person. I'm really looking forward to the time, God willing, I take a team up there and have many hearts and hands to work. Then I'll be able to focus more on each individual, and maybe have time to get to know them better, know their story's and talk about Jesus. I'm sure they have more to teach me about Jesus, than I have to teach them, that's for certain.
I was going from patient to patient one day, and suddenly just felt very disheartened. What was this accomplishing? I was changing nothing. Nothing was going to be any better the next day for these people, because I was there. As I was handing a cup of water to one woman, I hear in my spirit, "even a cup of cold water given in My name." The reference is Mark 9:41, where we are told that to give even a cup of water in Jesus name to His own, has a reward.
Well, I'm not looking for the reward, but if loving with a cup of water to His own pleases Him, it's not insignificant to Him, evidently. It's because we're trained to only look for the big things, not the small. Steve told me after this particular day, "you made their day better, today, because you were there. That's what you have to focus on."
One of the younger men when given his cup of ice water, took it
gently in both hands and turning to the others said with a grin and a giggle, "it's SO COLD!"Even now I want to cry when I think of that memory. Icewater! All it was, was icewater.
I may be there to serve, but it's me that's getting the lessons. My awareness of my poverty grows with each trip up that hill.
It makes me think of what Mother Teresa said to her hosts, when she received the Nobel Peace Prize. They had thrown her a lavish party, and when asked what she thought, she said" Never have I seen such poverty." (ouch)
Which just goes to show you, never try to dazzle with wealth, a nun who has taken a vow of poverty to serve the poor!
Rev. 3:17 - because you say, "I am rich and have become wealthy, and have need of nothing, and do not know that you are wretched, poor, blind and naked, I counsel you to buy from Me gold refined in the fire, that you may be rich, and white garments that you may be clothed, and the shame of your nakedness would not be revealed; and anoint your eye's with salve that you might see; as many as I love, I rebuke and chasten, be therefore zealous and repent."
Yes...Mama T had her eye's wide open. I like to think of her in heaven, with the people she served and loved. She sits with them, not with a crust of bread in poverty, but at the banqueting table of the Lord himself. She probably is thinking, "now THIS is a party!"
JUNGLE CHILD
There is a horrific story the matron told me about a younger man in the Infirmary. He is an amputee, with one leg gone below the knee. He seems about 30 yrs of age, and is very quiet and withdrawn.
It's told that he was just a wild child living in the jungle alone, evidently abandoned by his parents, which is not terribly uncommon, so I hear. He was stealing livestock, and they said, eating it raw. The villagers after some time, caught him, and holding him down, chopped off his leg with an axe so that he couldn't steal from them anymore.
The matron told me he is on medication for mental problems and evidently can at times get violent, when not on it. I look at him and wonder how life looks through those eyes. He seems detached...(an understatement)....or something I can't put my finger on. I've actually been afraid to approach him. Not because of his story, but because he appears to desire to be left alone. I want to respect that, but at the same time you sense his loneliness. I satisfy the urge with handing him extra snacks. Typical American "Jewish" mother....EAT! EAT! You'll feel BETTER!!!
And nothing but the love of Jesus could EVER make ANYTHING for this man better. Lord, look down on this violated child and have mercy. Show me how to love him.
It's told that he was just a wild child living in the jungle alone, evidently abandoned by his parents, which is not terribly uncommon, so I hear. He was stealing livestock, and they said, eating it raw. The villagers after some time, caught him, and holding him down, chopped off his leg with an axe so that he couldn't steal from them anymore.
The matron told me he is on medication for mental problems and evidently can at times get violent, when not on it. I look at him and wonder how life looks through those eyes. He seems detached...(an understatement)....or something I can't put my finger on. I've actually been afraid to approach him. Not because of his story, but because he appears to desire to be left alone. I want to respect that, but at the same time you sense his loneliness. I satisfy the urge with handing him extra snacks. Typical American "Jewish" mother....EAT! EAT! You'll feel BETTER!!!
And nothing but the love of Jesus could EVER make ANYTHING for this man better. Lord, look down on this violated child and have mercy. Show me how to love him.
MR. COOPER
One day, Margaret, one of the residents takes me over to the men's ward to meet her 'boyfriend', Mr. Cooper. A quiet, very thin gentleman, with a quick smile is introduced, and we quickly become friends. Mr. Cooper as a young man, came to the U.S. and lived in New York City for a few years. He found work, and told me that the people of my color treated him very well. He was making a living and happy except for one thing. His mother missed him so, and repeatedly begged him to return to Jamaica. Finally, over time, he couldn't stand her being so unhappy and returned home. It was not many years after that he fell off the roof of a building at work, and something heavy fell on top of him, hurting his back and legs permanently. He wonders what life would have been like had he stayed in the states, and wishes he had resisted his mother's plea's to come home. Although in almost constant pain, he does not complain. He stays mostly in a wheelchair, though he can stand and move a bit. I didn't even know he was in pain for a long time. What a difference from us Americans who whine and take medication for every ache or pain. We have been taught to swallow a pill for everything. Heaven forbid we suffer. While top medical care has been a benfit of our culture, I'm not sure it has always been beneficial if you know what I mean. This is one man, who I would love to bring a prescription to and alleviate the suffering. At least the physical kind.
He prays continually that the Lord heal him. He said, with a smile, if he was healed and could run, he would run right out the gate and down the hill from the Infirmary! He goes to church as often as someone will come pick him up. I often miss him, because he is out with somebody. He has much advice, both Godly and practical. It's hard to tear myself away from him, I enjoy talking with him so much. He is sharp, and I find that I can talk to him as a daughter would a father, not caregiver to patient. He quietly tells me out of Margaret's hearing that she is "not right in the head." But true to his kind nature, he treats her with respect and genteel humor. No wonder Margaret is in love! What a catch...
He prays continually that the Lord heal him. He said, with a smile, if he was healed and could run, he would run right out the gate and down the hill from the Infirmary! He goes to church as often as someone will come pick him up. I often miss him, because he is out with somebody. He has much advice, both Godly and practical. It's hard to tear myself away from him, I enjoy talking with him so much. He is sharp, and I find that I can talk to him as a daughter would a father, not caregiver to patient. He quietly tells me out of Margaret's hearing that she is "not right in the head." But true to his kind nature, he treats her with respect and genteel humor. No wonder Margaret is in love! What a catch...
Men's Day at the Beach!
The next day, we take out the men to a different beach Marla has found. I confess I was nervous. I had never as of yet, visited the men's building. I was thinking of the nursing home I had worked in years ago, and some of the leacherous old men there. I couldn't have been farther from the truth. They were like old world gentlemen. Sweet, gentle and utterly respectful, extremely grateful for any small favor you gave them.
I think my heart was more touched by them than anyone else. We set them on the beach one by one. One older man walked out a ways and just dove in head first! He swam and swam and swam. We had a hard time getting him in for lunch on the beach. He explained later, that he had been a fisherman by trade, and had longed for the sea so much, but thought he never would return. It was such a sweet day for him. What a small thing to do, yet what an impact for him. You never know what God is doing when he sends you....you just have to go, and watch Him bless those around you, and in doing that your blessed even more. It almost seems selfish in some way. Just like in God's economy,there is no lack, to be poured out in service means, He is constantly pouring in. It is how we are designed to live and be fulfilled in this life.
Richard, whom I briefly introduced you to, was nervous about getting in the water and balked for quite a while. He teased and joked about it, but I could see he was genuinely nervous about the idea. We lured him in tossing a tennis ball. Yeah...it was underhanded, but it worked. Soon he was splashing in some shallow water, then he worked up the courage to hold hands and walk out a good distance from shore. The water stayed about waste deep even far out. He hollered and hooted, he was so proud to be walking in the water! After a while, when it was time to go it took some fast talking to get him out! Only many promises of bringing him back placated him enough to get him to return. One of my favorite pictures is of Marla sitting on the beach with the guys letting the waves roll in over them. I filmed most of the day, so ended up not participating as much. Finally, I couldn't stand just observing anymore and threw down the camera and went into the water with them. Now, whenever I go to the Infirmary, I spend as much time as I can in the men's ward. They are great fun, and many are very wise, and Godly men. Whatever circumstance brought them here, they seem to make the best of it, and are quick to smile and invite you to talk.
I think my heart was more touched by them than anyone else. We set them on the beach one by one. One older man walked out a ways and just dove in head first! He swam and swam and swam. We had a hard time getting him in for lunch on the beach. He explained later, that he had been a fisherman by trade, and had longed for the sea so much, but thought he never would return. It was such a sweet day for him. What a small thing to do, yet what an impact for him. You never know what God is doing when he sends you....you just have to go, and watch Him bless those around you, and in doing that your blessed even more. It almost seems selfish in some way. Just like in God's economy,there is no lack, to be poured out in service means, He is constantly pouring in. It is how we are designed to live and be fulfilled in this life.
Richard, whom I briefly introduced you to, was nervous about getting in the water and balked for quite a while. He teased and joked about it, but I could see he was genuinely nervous about the idea. We lured him in tossing a tennis ball. Yeah...it was underhanded, but it worked. Soon he was splashing in some shallow water, then he worked up the courage to hold hands and walk out a good distance from shore. The water stayed about waste deep even far out. He hollered and hooted, he was so proud to be walking in the water! After a while, when it was time to go it took some fast talking to get him out! Only many promises of bringing him back placated him enough to get him to return. One of my favorite pictures is of Marla sitting on the beach with the guys letting the waves roll in over them. I filmed most of the day, so ended up not participating as much. Finally, I couldn't stand just observing anymore and threw down the camera and went into the water with them. Now, whenever I go to the Infirmary, I spend as much time as I can in the men's ward. They are great fun, and many are very wise, and Godly men. Whatever circumstance brought them here, they seem to make the best of it, and are quick to smile and invite you to talk.
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