T PLUS one month.

Generally you go with the minus...because you're counting down to something. But I am counting away from my South African adventure.

Today I have officially been home for one month. Ugh.

My heart beats just a little bit slower knowing that.

I look back on my last post and laugh a little bit at my own faith and wisdom that originally made coming back home seem like an okay thing to do, even though no fiber of my being wanted to.

When I came home I had a voicemail. It was the head of admissions from the University of Michigan's School of Nursing. She wanted me to give her a transcript...because it was the last piece of information they needed before they could officially offer me a spot as an admitted student for the Fall of 2010.

God doing's oh how I know. The Africa chapter closed and a new seemingly larger chapter opened...Nursing School. At a school that is accepting me an entire year earlier than I was originally being admitted at Oakland. A spot that was given to me, that only 4 other people out of 200 were given.

As I am sitting here on my bed I am underneath an African tapestry and Zebra spoons. I miss my Africa so dearly. But this is the life that will lead me back there. So there is no more sad. There is no looking back- only forward. That's all I'm allowing for, because we are now one month out.

I would like to invite you to read my new blog..something I started since being back. A commitment to finding God's beauty in my life. The gifts he has given me everyday. The web address is...

http://youcanmoveeverything.tumblr.com

Thanks ya'll. It's been fantastic.

The part I've been ignoring.

If you are a reader of this blog who knows me pretty well, you may be aware of the fact that I have a slight issue with denial. If I don’t like something I tend not to acknowledge it’s existence; and even the fact that I used the adjective “slight” to describe my issue with denial is telling of my syndrome. And I know it, but I deny that further still….and thus the cycle continues.

So I’m facing the part of the trip I have so far been denying…it’s conclusion.

First of all, I feel the need to point out the fact that this trip didn’t start on April 16 for me, it started way back in January when I committed to going. From that point on, a new part of my life began that included some fundraising, packing, lots and lots of counting, and a fellowship of eleven people joined together for a unique and meaningful purpose. A purpose that we were able to accomplish with an overwhelming margin of success, and joy. All in all this trip has been more than a simple experience; it has been a chapter in my life.

But this too must end. And on the eve of my departure from South Africa, I am all packed and ready for our long trek back home… and kind of left wondering, what’s next?

I’ve spent so much time loving it here, and all the phases I went through to get here. I loved it too much, and therefore I have been having a very hard day getting ready to leave it all behind. Yes I know all the practical reasons I need to go home: job, continuing education…blah blah blah. When you’ve spent two weeks without those things, you are given the time and grace to figure out there is more to life. And that a different way of living life really does exist. Something maybe I could really fit into, and find happiness within.

But I’ve given it some thought and found some strength in my struggle. First of all in knowing that all of my “blah blah blahs” really are important. I may find them daunting at times but my life at home is what allows me to come here and be part of a solution. Going back to my place in the world will allow me to replenish and build upon the tools God has given me to make a difference, “here and there.”

More importantly, it’s time for a new chapter. For the last few months I have clung to this trip as my one true North. (even though I went way South.) The thing I was working toward, even when I wasn’t directly working on it. And I did it. And it was amazing, in so many ways. But God has made me ready to bring on something new. And I have no idea what that may be.

If you also know me well, you may know that I have a little trouble coming to grips with the unknown, but I consider a bible passage that I have really come to really appreciate from Job 42:1-3.

“ I know that you can do all things, no plan of yours can be thwarted. You asked, ‘Who is this that obscures my counsel without knowledge?’ Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.”

And so officially ending this chapter means starting a new one- that I know will be filled with things too wonderful for me to know. And for that… I’m excited!

When.

(I wrote this on Saturday, but the internet is touch and go so this is the first I've been able to post it)

I hereby officially declare that I am saying “when”.

I am sore to the touch, and ambling around like an old man after the clinic we had today. 250 total children, who arrived by the never-ending busload with dirty little ear canals. Every time I looked outside searching for a light at the end of the tunnel it seemed as though even MORE inquisitive little faces would peer around the doorway anxiously wanting to get in Grace Evangelical Church.

Being the person who took every single little patient’s vitals with an ear thermometer and the assistant at the ear wash station I thought a lot today about dirty little ears. Although I learned a contradiction to my cultural hygienic upbringing - dirty ears are healthy ears. Acidic wax keeps us from getting bugs in our ears as well as bacteria that cause ear infections. Thus unless the wax is causing pain or auditory damage…it stays.

At patient number 215 I had caught up with the docs on vitals and got to sit in with a very exhausted Dr. Andy as he checked off the last few kids. With the exception of a case of Impetigo, which was routinely treated with antibiotics, we had all basically healthy kids. I would kind of laugh at the awkward silence in the sheet-walled exam rooms as the kids realized that they waited in line for 6 hrs with their cardstock “chart” only to have this guy write on it that I’m perfectly fine. And yeah, maybe today would have been a much easier and shorter day had we only seen the ones who could actually be classified as sick. But there’s beauty in healthy kids that blows finding a true ailment completely out of the water. Not to mention the benefit of giving all of these kids multivitamins, a community based prevention of worms, a sticker, a sandwich, and a day to sit and play with their friends in a house of God to find out that Jesus and these crazy Americans in the funny clothes called scrubs love them.

There hasn’t been a clinic day with 250 people in a few years; we try to cap it at 150. And this time it happened there was about half the amount of doctors available to supply the demand. So I guess it’s safe to say that God heard my prayer about exhausting our team within the very last molecule of ATP. But this is what we prayed so diligently for the opportunity to do, so the work and exhaustion is met with satisfaction and welcoming. I think we were meant to see everyone who came through those doors today, because had we not faced so much adversity with setting up these clinics I don’t think a 250 clinic with half the required staff would have gone quite so smoothly.

I will be lucky if I make it through my spaghetti dinner without falling asleep in it.

firsts.

Okay, so I need to do this pretty quickly because our incredibly competitive game of Phase 10 went just a little too long and it’s getting pretty late. (pretty late being 10:20…) But also you should know that the reason 10:20 is super late is because I started wanting to go to bed around 5:45.

In the last few days… I have had my first dip in the Indian Ocean, I played my first cord on the guitar (E minor- which I’ve heard is rarely ever actually used, but counts nonetheless) and also had my first experience playing soccer on the beach (which taught me the importance of looking out for rocks).

And most importantly, today was our first clinic.

Today we were finally able to do what we came here to do. It was long awaited and frustrating to get to this point, but it was a great day. I walked out of the house at 8:20 and there were already at least 75 people lined up outside the clinic doors. I took what felt like a million blood pressures, a few baby temps, a lunch break, and then started all over again.

I think my favorite part of the day was the last twenty minutes, after I was done taking pre-doctor vitals and I got to sit in with one of the docs as he diagnosed a couple patients. This also led to another first: hearing my first heart murmur. Reviewing the state of health this particular person was in, this was a sad, less exhilarating first.

The electricity went out, as it tends to do here, so after our long day we didn’t even get showers… and had to make dinner in the dark. But we’re so used to it by now it didn’t faze anyone. I’m not looking forward to the reverse culture shock that I’m sure is waiting for me at home… paved roads, the ability to pet dogs, seatbelts, and cell phones? I’ve only been here a week and I’m quite avidly adjusted to living without all of the above. Here, the only day of the week that you need to know is Sunday, and the timed out events are based on “before dark” or “after dark”, and I’ve grown quite fond of every aspect of it.

It’s a good time to get going, everyone is sleeping and ready to do it all again tomorrow, Peds style! Yup, tomorrow we see the Zulu babies…who could light up even the darkest of days with one smile or the beautiful tunes they sing to praise God ☺.

A constant state of dirty feet.

So, there are a few things that are different in Africa. Title- inspiring being the fact that my feet are always dirty. (I’m sure my mother is having a small heart attack knowing that I would even put that up on the internet)…but it’s true. Normally at home this would incessantly bother me to my very core, but here my attitude can be summed up with one expression- “eh”. Maintaining cleanly feet in South Africa would kind of be an unending battle, and much water wasted…so I accept it, embrace it. Africa me has very dirty feet.

There are a few things that I wanted to write about. I swear my brain has gained a few pounds with all of the thinking I’ve been doing… or lost a few due to intense work out, however you’d like to think of it. Thus I’m introducing a series that may or may not have three elements. The trouble is not that I’ve never had this much time to think…I’m an avid thinker no matter my geographic location, but never before had so much that I felt I wanted, needed to share.

Subgroup A: Perspectives.

I would like to start out with some stats… We brought with us a thousand pounds of meds in our luggage that we checked. Everything has come to into the country in it’s original packaging…but once we get here, our Kirkland brands bottles of 750 need to broken down into something a little bit more practical for handing out at clinic.

To solve our problem we consulted a great historical duo, Sharpies and the Ziploc bag.

125,000 tablets of ibuprofen rationed into Ziploc bags of 100 tablets equates to 1,240 bags. Divided by 10 people is roughly 124 bags per person to count. And then if you have a more specialized job like me, the bag-writer, you are strictly writing the phrase

“ Ibuprofen 500 mg #100.”

1,240 times. And that’s just the Ibuprofen.

The following is the numerical amounts for our top 4 med groups. But may I reiterate that this is just the TOP four.

80,000 paracetamol /100 800 bags
60,000 diphenhydramine/ 60 1,000 bags
24,000 children’s multivitamin/ 60 400 bags.

This is what we have been up to the last two days folks. Two days. Lots of counting, and creating rules that involve never ever counting outloud and games like the “the Perfect Hundred”. These last two days have given a whole new meaning to what it is to serve God. A whole new perspective.

Mission trips are hard, and I don’t think people go into them really expecting them to be a walk in the park… but you don’t know what God is going to make part of your mission until you’re in it. And this has been a marathon of painstaking, detailed, and mind-numbing service. Service to God. Service to our supporters…those who sent us here, and those who need us here.

I haven’t gotten to the clinic part yet. So this part of the trip is hard for me… but I’m also one of few newbies on this trip- and people have come back year after year after year. The trials of “sorting” were a surprise to only me, Carmen, Dan and Anna. Everyone else knew… and expected it- and come every year knowing exactly what they’re getting themselves into. For Sarah and Sharon…seven years in a row.

Counting pills doesn’t make you feel alive. It almost makes you want to die. But there’s so much more to this.