Encouragement

Streams in the Desert has been a source of steady encouragement to me since before I left for Uganda. Yesterday's reading was especially meaningful and I think it may bring hope to others too...

"Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today." Exodus 14:13

This verse contains God's command to me as a believer for those times when I am confronted with dire circumstances and extraordinary difficulties. What am I to do when I cannot retreat or go forward and my way is blocked to the right and to the left?

The Master's word to me is, "Stand firm." And the best thing I can do at these times is to listen only to my Master's word, for others will come to me with their suggestions and evil advice. Despair will come, whispering, "Give up--lie down and die." But even in the worst of times, God would have me be cheerful and courageous, rejoicing in His love and faithfulness.

Cowardice will come and say, "You must retreat to the world's ways of acting. It is too difficult for you to continue living the part of a Christian. Abandon your principles." Yet no matter how much Satan may pressure me to follow his course, I cannot, for I am a child of God. The Lord's divine decree has commanded me to go from "strength to strength" (Ps. 84:7). Therefore I will and neither death nor hell will turn me from my course. And if for a season He calls me to "stand firm", I will acknowledge it as a time to renew my strength for greater strides in the future.

Impatience will come, crying, "Get up and do something! To 'stand firm' and wait is sheer idleness." Why is it I think I must be doing something right now instead of looking to the Lord? He will not only do something--He will do everything.

Arrogance will come, boasting, "If the seas is blocking your way, march right into it and expect a miracle." Yet true faith never listens to arrogance, impatience, cowardice, or despair but only hears God saying, "Stand firm." And then it stands as immovable as a rock.

"Stand firm." I must maintain the posture of one who stands, ready for action, expecting further orders, and cheerfully and patiently awaiting the Director's voice. It will not be long until God will say to me, as distinctly as He told Moses to tell the children of Israel, "Move on." (Ex. 14:15).

Weekly Happenings

I have a plane ticket bought for 4 days from now. I was supposed to be flying back to Uganda then. Unfortunately, I am still sick and have only gotten confused looks from doctors. I am planning to see other specialists and am holding on to the hope that I will soon have answers and be feeling better. And most importantly, returning to Uganda soon. In the meantime, I am plodding along with my American life. Here’s a week in review:

Saturday: Two dear friends from college arrived and spent an encouraging 24 hours with me. We talked, ate, and talked some more. It was great to catch up with them, feel normal for a bit, and impress them with homemade scones and stories of my life in Uganda.

Sunday: Said good-bye to my friends and visited my parents’ fellowship group from church. It was wonderful to thank them for the support, prayers, and mail that they had sent my way in Bundibugyo. I shared some of the details of my work in Uganda and realized yet again that I light up the most when I’m talking about Bundibugyo. It is encouraging to be reminded of my own passion for a difficult place.

Monday: Had an appointment with a renowned endocrinologist. Was reassured by her taking an hour to listen to my health issues and her second opinion that yes, I do have Hashimotos. Was sad to hear that she also thinks it is not what is currently causing my symptoms. Went to the parking lot and cried—a cycle that is becoming a little too predictable for my own comfort (see doctor-run tests-have no answers-discouragement). Went to my sister’s house to lift my spirits and enjoyed listening to Micah sing his pre-school songs and making Easter cookies with Addie.

Tuesday: Booked an appointment with infectious disease specialist. Felt really low and wondered if I’m a little crazy—am I just imagining that I’m sick? Received encouragement and reassurance from my Mom. Mailed letters to new Christ School sponsors!

Wednesday: Went with my mom to baby-sit my nephew who is almost 2. Cracked up at his new “joke” when he speaks gibberish and makes robot movements. And made the horse puppet “eat” a carrot about 25 times just because he loved feeding it so much.

Thursday: Felt okay physically and enjoyed a walk around my neighborhood in the warm sunshine. The flat, paved sidewalks of Galena have a different kind of beauty than the rutted dirt roads of mountainous Bundibugyo. Began writing an orientation manual for interns and new missionaries to Bundibugyo; it made me miss it a lot.

Friday: Had a needle biopsy on my thyroid. Being stabbed in the neck multiple times is never a pleasant experience. But I thanked God for local anesthetic and got a badge on my way out : ) 

Keep praying—for upcoming appointments, for healing, for emotional stamina, and for the team remaining in Bundibugyo. Also, the newest member of the team: Jessica Ankney, who just arrived in Uganda!

The God Who's Got My Back

I find myself waiting again.

I saw the endocrinologist. She diagnosed me with Hashimoto's thyroiditis. But then told me that my test results were not abnormal enough to treat me and that she didn't think my current symptoms are even thyroid related. Despite my statement "I have no expectations" going into the appointment, my hopes were dashed.

I continue on though--what other choice do I really have? The doctor who has been seeing me since I was 5 years old is in my corner, validating my symptoms and fears, struggling to help me. I may see an infectious disease specialist. I will probably have a biopsy of a nodule on my thyroid--ruling out cancer. I will see another endocrinologist on Monday who comes highly, highly recommended. The wait to see her was until November. But God works in mysterious ways; a man in my church is a patient of hers and she agreed to see me since I don't want to stay in America until November.

My heart and body are aching right now--crying out for restoration. So much in this world is broken and hurting. I look at my twin nephews struggling to breathe and sustain their little 2 pound bodies. I think of my friends in Bundibugyo that would be unable to fathom our American medical care, despite its shortfalls. I pray for the team that remains in Bundibugyo, and the teammates who are on their way.

And yet, God continues to amaze me. An older African American woman that I swear was an angel sat across from me yesterday in the lab as I got yet another round of blood testing done. She looked right at me and said, "God's got your back. Ain't nobody else got your back. But he does." Amen.

Rescue is Coming?

Keep praying for the orchestrating of doctor appointments. I had two possible endocrinologists lined up to see me in the next month or so. Yesterday I found out one was a terrible doctor, highly un-recommended by many. And this afternoon I heard that the other is "old school" and refuses to treat patients with test results similar to my own. But I called one more practice this afternoon in a desperate attempt. I was told the office was booked until mid-July. But they gave me the number for another practice of theirs in a city a little further away. I called.

And I have an appointment for tomorrow. Crazy. Unheard of. A total answer to my exhausted pleading with my Rescuer. So please join me in praying that the appointment tomorrow will go well and this doctor will not be "old school" but will be willing to treat my unusual case. She's from Africa--maybe she'll have mercy on my African soul :)

Waiting on My Rescuer

I take a while to process things. And I am usually fairly easy-going, holding up well under pressure (certainly not in my own strength). But there are times when I reach a breaking point. We all have our breaking points, right? When the proverbial “stuff” hits the fan. Today was a perfect storm for me and a whole lot of things hit the fan as I threw my version of a hissy fit. My life is entirely out of my control and none of us likes to be ousted from the driver’s seat.

As an American, I’m pretty good at compartmentalizing my life. So just what parts led to the state I was in this afternoon? Well, my physical body hasn’t been working or under my control for about 7 months now. I’ve had ups and downs, symptoms off and on, and in my current state I’ve gained 20 pounds which won’t budge, I can’t think straight or focus, and I’m continually exhausted. All things that are quite the opposite of my “norm”. Testing has narrowed it down to a thyroid problem but without going into too many details, it’s going to be hard to even find a doctor willing to treat me.

Most primary care doctors won’t even touch me because I’m an unusual case and the typical wait to see an endocrinologist is 6 months. All of this to say, it seems we know what is wrong but it’s not quick or easy fix.

Meanwhile, I was scheduled to return to Uganda in 3 weeks. I want to be in Uganda. I want to be with my team and doing the work that God has called me to do. But I can’t. In my current state, I am of little physical help and they don’t exactly have endocrinologists in high supply in Bundibugyo. A team that was at one time between 20 and 30 people (including kids) has dwindled to just the Johnson family, Anna, and the soon departing Scott Will. That’s 4 adults, soon to be 3. This is when I am most needed, right? I just found out yesterday that Travis has malaria. To give you an idea of the other things my team deals with in a week, read this.

All of this came crashing in on me this afternoon. Satan is highly skilled at whispering things in the dark that I never would have considered in the light. I feel like I’ve failed my team, my supporters, the Ugandans I went to serve. I feel guilty and angry. I wonder why God called me to Bundibugyo if he knew I wouldn’t be there right now. I wonder how I’m going to get an appointment with an endocrinologist—one who will treat me—and get back to Uganda as soon as possible. We have summer interns coming that I need to be there for, along with 100 other responsibilities. Not only that—I want to be there. I like living in Africa. Call me crazy after the bat and rat stories. But I miss (other) parts of being there. I miss my friends.

I hope this doesn’t sound like a bunch of whining and complaining. Yes, I am hurting right now. Yes, even missionaries doubt God’s love and promises. But I am hanging onto that little baby thread of faith that is left. And I am waiting in expectation for my God, who delights in rescuing his children.

Theme Song

I've always loved music and have often had a "soundtrack" of sorts to my life. Certain albums remind me of places I've been and different times in my life. Since coming back to the U.S., I have a theme song and since I'm feeling pretty exhausted and word-less tonight, here's the song. I recently discovered JJ Heller and highly recommend her other music too!

Crossing the Time Zones

I’m sitting here in the London Heathrow airport with another 3 hours of my layover to go. I enjoyed the luxury of having two seats to myself on the flight from Kampala to London and my first action of re-entry into the Western world—buying a cup of Starbucks coffee. As I have traveled over the last week my movement from one world to another has been gradual; thank goodness.

First, the trip from Bundibugyo to Fort Portal. We exited the blazing heat and humidity and after the jaw-rattling 3 hour ride, we arrived in the cool of Fort Portal. Well, relative cool anyway. We moved from the road that has sharp rocks jutting out by 6 inches to the smooth newly widened gravel road and finally to tarmac and speed bumps. We moved from the place where we make everything from scratch to a place where there are 4—yes 4!—restaurants available. Anna and I enjoyed a morning adventure walk through the tea fields wet with dew; a walk that was free of stares, yells, and other people altogether.

From there, Pat and I entered world #3 as we traveled to Kampala. A city able to offer just about anything I could want and yet inescapably African. Pat and I enjoy pedicures at a fraction of the American cost and travel through the legendary “jams” on a variety of transportation including motorcycles, matatus, and her own personal car. I go shopping and we both meet with a politician for lunch. His desire to improve the lives of those living in Bundibugyo is encouraging but the stories of behind-the-scenes corruption is discouraging. Being surrounded by a group of 15 white tourists in a small craft shop is overwhelming to me  and I hope my cultural tact is a bit better than theirs. I stifle the urge to yell “Mzungu!!” and am thankful I don’t have to travel in a herd in a white tour van.

From there, Pat and I enter the Entebbe airport, where the white face ratio increases yet again. I get on a plane and now find myself here—back in the 21st century, surrounded by the cultural diversity of Heathrow airport along with a good dose of consumerism. Hmmm. Currently, I feel mostly jet-lagged and frumpily rumpled next to fashionable London types.

It is strange to realize I sat in this same terminal 6 months ago, also jet-lagged and rumpled but also slightly terrified as I faced the reality of moving to an unknown and faraway land in East Africa. Now I sit here missing that place a bit already, excited to see family and friends, unsure of how unfamiliar my previous home will feel. I am praying for a smooth transition back into this modern world while realizing that I have changed and hoping that a large part of me will long to return to Bundibugyo. For now, I think I’ll finish my coffee, brush my teeth, and read my book until I take that final step back into the world of America.