Sometimes it is hard

Where does the time go? Here I am, almost 1 year from the birth of my grandson, June 9^th, and it hardly seems possible he is "so big!" already. Walking, laughing, saying a few words…who knows, anything is possible! I say that because I really don't know, I have precious little contact with them from here in Honduras. If it sounds like I am whining, well, I am! I am a Grammy missing her grandkids something fierce! Meanwhile, here I am gaining "god children" as that is what they are to me when I have the privilege of 'tending' their birth. I think I am up to 14 or 15 now, up to 3 years old and down to just a few weeks old. What a life!! I have great joy in what I do here, there is such variety I will never have another job to compare, I'm sure. So why so down cast, oh my soul? I suppose it is all very normal for someone living on "foreign" soil, in a culture one didn't grow up in, surrounded by islanders that are basically all family to each other, and living with just a few other gringos that can understand the strangeness of it all! I imagine it has something to do with knowing that much life is going on "up there" that I have no part in, nor will I ever really catch up on, either. Nieces graduating from college, or off to Japan or India, going into High School, starting to date, having birthdays, boyfriend crisis'… Sometimes I wonder if I am having any significant impact here to offset what I am missing back 'home'; but then I remember that I am not here because of what I can do here for others. Nor am I here for what I can gain out of this experience. I am here simply because my Lord said, nearly 5 years ago, "Who will go?" And I replied, "Here I am, send me!" I don't ask for pity, for nobody in their right mind would pity me. I don't want advice as to whether to stay here or to go back to the states, for it is neither my decision, nor yours anyways. What I would love and appreciate is prayers for endurance, for peace, and for much joy in the work of His call on my life. And maybe for my son and daughter (in-law) to email me more often, preferably with pictures of those absolutely beautiful grandkids of mine!

No reason for concern

Some thought that have been wandering through my mind as I fight off the urge to be anxious or worry:

"…do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on" (Matt 6:25) Oh, sure, no problem, Lord! But what is so bad about worrying, isn't being prepared, being concerned about how to take care of things tomorrow a good thing? Aren't we supposed to be good stewards of our time, our resources, our talents? Yes, certainly, but that doesn't mean that we have license to sit and stew about how we are going to get what we need for the morrow, or what is going to happen, or how we will handle the 'what if's'. For that is a sure sign of unbelief, of not trusting, or thinking that we can figure it out on our own! And I ask myself, when has my worrying about anything ever changed the outcome?! OK, so call it by another name, call it 'planning'. I have wasted many an hour, or even a day, doing this. I plan for a certain situation, or I plan "for a rainy day", which either never comes, or I am not prepared for anyway, despite the hours of stewing away at the possibility. Or perhaps I am just to follow the Lord on through the trouble, and to trust Him in the midst of the storm, instead of thinking that it is my job to fix the issue, even if it never comes! Oswald Chambers wrote "It is not only wrong to worry, it is unbelief; worrying means we do not believe that God can look after the practical details that worry us. The only cure for unbelief is obedience to the Spirit. The greatest word of Jesus to His disciples is abandon." Lord, help me to leave the cares of this world in Your much more capable hands than mine. Teach me to follow you so closely that I cannot envision a reason to worry, since my life is hidden in You!"

BABY BIRTH!

BABY BIRTH!

 

 

Wow, that is all I can say in response to having the distinct and joyful pleasure of being the one to "tend" a young mother Friday. This is being known as the "God-mother" to the newborn, and I've been blessed to do this at least 12 times in the last 3 years! It never has become "routine" for me, and I am never less than breath-taken by the arrival of the little wrinkled, messy bundle into our harsh, cruel world. This was the 2^nd time for me with this Mommy, her 1^st son being the first time I tended by myself, and that was 2 ½ years ago. She came to the clinic around 7:30pm Thursday, so I thought we well may hear the cries of the tiny critter by midnight, but alas, this was not to be. She and I walked and walked those first hours – in the clinic, outside on the decks… She also lay on the floor, dozing lightly between contractions, it was cooler there, she said, than on the bed. The babe was slowly making it's way down toward the final goal, just more slowly than either of us preferred. But, as was bound to come, finally it was time to push. But, she argued, she didn't have the urge to strain, so she wasn't about to. Dear Heather was there by this time, helping me rub her back or belly through each contraction, tried to tell her that this urge was not nearly as strong after the 1^st baby, but she wasn't listening. She adamantly insisted that someone had "tied her up", meaning put a curse on her to keep the baby from being born. We tried everything, but she just knew that she "wasn't going to born the baby without being cut" (having a C-section), and she was insisting that I bring her down in the boat. I said no, the baby was moving down just fine, but we were at the point where she had to help, she HAD to push, we were not leaving the island. God gave me the words of conviction, and I held her head in my hands, and I told her in no uncertain terms that I was going to help her open up, and she was going to push until the baby was out. There was no other choice, no other way. She finally said "ok, ok, I will try it your way." I was never so relieved in my life! So she stopped fighting her body and me, and pushed with all her might, and Heather coached her through each contraction, and I did my part – so God could bring that little bundle of joy into this world at 5:15am!!! He was a bit stressed from the wait to enter into it, but it didn't take long for him to pink up, cry lustily, and even open his little eyes to look about. As I had him over cleaning him up, Mommy burst into tears, reaching out to hug me and saying "I'm so sorry Miss Deirdre, you were right, I should have listened!" It's all good, what counts is they are both healthy, he at 7.75#, she at home just 2 ¼ hours after birthing him. I love my life!

Dr Bob, DDS

For the last 10 days we've had a dentist here from the states, in fact, from my home state! He was my dentist when I was a child, so there has been great fun in catching up and discussing issues of my childhood, when I went to school with 2 of his children. But that isn't the point in bringing him up. It has been a much busier time for me, as I've had all the regular duties on my plate, plus I have been helping him out in the dental clinic every afternoon. I have had a good time; as I enjoy learning new techniques, and seeing a real pro at work! He is kindly and gentle, in addition to being very talented, too! We've pulled out so many teeth, filled just as many, he's shown me ways to get out the wisdom teeth, entrapped baby teeth, and teeth that have so rotted that there is just the shell of a tooth remaining (those are the really tricky ones!) He also has done dental work for all the staff here, including me. I have needed a crown after a root canal done 15 years ago, but never had dental insurance and was too cheap to spend the money on myself. So he whittled the tooth down, took impressions, and then put on a temporary stainless steel crown. Now he'll go back to WA and make me a nice one, and send it down with the next dentist in June so he can put it on! What a great deal! And I just had to pay the same amount as the islanders, L50 (about $2.50) – can't beat that with a bamboo stick!

My “regular” day

So, what is a "regular" day? Obviously, each person's idea of this is unique, so how can it be said to be regular? For instance, on Helene I usually wake up at 6:30am weekdays, and whenever it gets too hot for me to remain in bed on weekends, usually 7:30 or 8. Most days I go for a run after starting the coffee. 30 minutes later I'm pouring the coffee, sweating like a madwoman because it's 85 degrees out and I just ran 3 miles through a trail, over a hill, down a beach, and back. "Little" Dominic (or "old man" according to his island nickname, for what reason I really don't know) thinks this is pretty crazy, he may be right except that my caffeine addiction says I must do it anyway. Personal devo's, morning devo's, then the day gets started for real. The medical clinic is 'first come, first serve", unless an emergency comes along to trump the cough/cold/fever already in line. I may pull a feather out of an ear, I may put 4 sutures into a 6 year old's eyebrow, or I may listen to the fetal heartbeat of a woman who just learned she was pregnant. It's all in a day's work in our medical clinic.

Other days I go out and walk the island to make home visits. Here I will walk a wharf that only has every 3^rd or 4^th board intact anymore, praying not to slip into the muck below, inhabited by nasty crawling creatures of tremendous variety. It's happened, it is disgusting! I will probably battle island dogs that seem to hate me just because I'm white-skinned (how do you think that happens? I don't know, since I am one of the few people that would actually stop to pet them for a time, if they only wouldn't bite my hand off for doing so!) My rounds covers about 4 – 4 1/2 miles on Tuesday mornings, and I love it – getting out into the community is one of my favorite things!

Afternoon might mean a Ladies Bible study, or a tooth pulling, or laundry and fixing dinner for the team. Sometimes I will get called out for an emergency visit, or one will come knocking on my door. Like this evening, only it was a phone call that summoned me to the far west end of the island to see Papa Lee, who "was low since yesterday". Well, considering he is 97 years old, this could mean a whole lot of things, but I packed up an IV and some meds, along with the usual array of vital sign checking devises, and set out to see him. 20 minutes later we arrived, he was indeed 'low', poorly responsive, dehydrated, and probably post-stroke. He has survived many many incidences when we thought he was going to be on to his heavenly reward, maybe this is another time he will survive and surprise us all, and maybe not. For now, he has 1 liter of fluid in him via IV, his pressure came down, and his body is cooled off. He is responding a little, held my hand, and jumped to the pain of the needle stick. Praise God he is in no apparent pain. We prayed together, the family and I, discussed his life and tenacity for living, laughed some and shed a few tears together. It was a blessing to serve the Lord again in this place. A "regular" day? Mas o menos, more or less.