dawn: adventures of a journeywoman

A snap of me painted as a "Massai princess" after conquering a 2 hour hike and between a 20 km bike ride through Hell's Gate national park last weekend.

There are portions of each of our lifetimes where we are able to step back and marvel at the present. I often find it easy to look back and see times of growth, pain, sweetness, or joy with an ability to appreciate each quality (and if I’m lucky enough, I can see how it fits into the larger picture of life). And trying to anticipate the future can either be stimulating or dreadful. But to be able to step outside the day-to-day humdrum, headaches, and ordinaries of the present and realize the significance of what is taking place is something completely different.

Lately I have been fortunate enough to be able to experience this feeling. Several times a day this week, I have felt like pinching myself. After the adjustment to new expectations, new culture, and new normalities, I am realizing the depth of my daily experiences in Kenya. I realize I am not living through each day, but trying to savor and stretch each moment. I can almost feel the growth happening, it has been so quick. And as in a child, rapid growth is often painful.

I had to sit down with one of my patients last week to discuss the case of cancer vs. her body. The limited chemotherapy available had been briefly attempted, but convenience, cost, and her body’s tolerance had halted any attempt by medicine to defend her body months before. I spent an afternoon with her as we uncovered and faced the reality of medicine’s limits and plotted the next few steps to manage symptoms and provide comfort. Afterwards as I prayed with her, I felt a strong sense of my limits but a reassurance of God’s limitlessness. Later that afternoon, a physician came around with a few English bibles. As one of my select patients who was very educated and proficient in English, her face lit up as her cupped hands contained the small Bible like the last drops of water in a dessert. And I suppose in a way it was. I smiled as she insisted I write an inscription for her in the front cover. I was amazed at how full I felt being used in small ways in this place.

Though I am far from perfect in my performance, it feels good to be used by the conductor. To be offered a chance to play a part. I was acutely aware of this as I ran between two floors attempting to resuscitate two patients with the help of a senior physician. I knew I was living deeper as I carefully palpated the hearts of HIV positive death row inmates in prison. I could feel my own heart stretching as I held a screaming mother after telling her that her child would not live through the night. I knew I was in a growing moment as I lay on a gurney next to a patient I had been treating just moments before (strange stomach bugs can suddenly affect even healthcare providers).

Where does this present fullness come from? The only way I can comprehend it is that I feel I am doing what I was made for. For a moment in time, I see my Father letting me work with Him. Like a young child who loves to “help pump gas” with their father (who is doing 95% of the powerful squeezing), it is thrilling just to feel the rush of power escape just under my hands. Beth Moore words this feeling best:
God could grant us victory and maturity without an ounce of participation on our parts, but He created us with a need to contribute to and participate in the harvest. God made sure…that much of our fulfillment would involve the glorious pursuit of God and His goals so that our souls would be filled and thrilled in the constant discoveries [that] God is sovereign. When all is said and done, He knows what thrills us most.

Thank you again for all your support as I continue to serve and grow in Kenya.