Redeeming miracles-comparing...

This past month of June and this month of July, I find myself full of mixed emotions.  From disbelief to relief, from regret to thankfulness and from deep sadness to joy. The constant thought "last year at this time..."  keeps rolling through my head-like remembering a bad movie. 

Let's just for fun do a little comparison- June 2014 to June 2015.

June 2014:

• New cases surface on June 11/12th to ELWA 1 
• By the end of June we have nurses and doctors coming to help at ELWA 1 and to go to the Foya ETU to assist MSF.
• We stand up our second DART (Disaster Assisted Response Team) within the past 3 months. 
• Containers of supplies are arriving, unloaded and sent to ELWA 1 and Foya.
• The outbreak was spreading quickly. 

 ELWA 2 July 2014

June 2015:

• Leave Boone/Canada with the BOYS to come back to Liberia.
• The ELWA campus by June 20th is teeming with SP families, along with MAF (Mission Aviation Fellowship)  and SIM folks.

 Boys' first swim

• ELWA 2 ETU is being decommissioned.
• Last week of June-Liberia sees it's first Ebola case in over aprox. 100 days. 

ELWA 2 when we first got back June 16th

 

 ELWA 2 July 12-looking more like the kitchen/laundry of the new hospital.

 

These events only have one thing in common, Ebola is still here.  However, the systems and capacity to handle Ebola has drastically changed.  For the better!  Numerous organizations, the CDC and WHO along with the Ministry of Health have done a decent job in containing this recent outbreak that we pray will end soon.  Last year only the CDC had a handful of people here, WHO wasn't helping at all and MSF and SP were the only responders. This change has been one BIG miracle that we are very thankful for.

The events of last July are too many to list, to painful to type and it would take too many blog entries to recapture them all.  However, I will attempt to write on a few poignant milestones and events in upcoming entries. Comparing 2014 with 2015 has reminded me once again that God is constant.  He is the same last year as He is this year and was and is and will be forever.  It's us who change.  Trust me we all have changed. 

I wish I could say that like the systems we have in place now -that I have improved.  In same areas maybe I have, but I have also realized more than ever how small I am, how limited my abilities are and how fragile my faith is. God is so good my people. Even with that list-He allows us to be part of His great plan.  It's not a plan I know, it's not a plan that is going to be all nice and safe-it's a plan of faith.  Do I have the faith to keep trusting Him in my limited, imperfect self to keep on keeping on? Regardless of the past or the future?

 Running for this guy and many more

I think I have found a way to start figuring that out.  A marathon.  Yes, you read that right. Train for a marathon. I haven't been running consistently since last June.  It has been too hard-when I run, I think, I process, I cry out to God and this past year there was just too much.  But it's time.  Lord willing the Liberia Marathon will take place on Nov. 8.  In memory of those who lost their lives and in honor those who survived.  How can I not run it.  But it's going to be a very hard, painful road back. It's going to take a miracle.
 

Redeeming miracles part II...

 21 and 42. These numbers have a whole new meaning for many of us due to the events of the past year.  The first, 21 days, is the maximum amount of time the Ebola virus can stay alive in someones body.  The second, 42 days is of course 21 days doubled and the numbers of days a country must have no confirmed cases to be declared Ebola free. Today is that day in Liberia.  It really is a miracle and something that I don't think has really sunk in yet.

Since last late March, I have experienced four 21 day periods.  The first being evacuated in April and waiting until there were no cases in Liberia for 21 days before returning back home.  The second 21 days after we evacuated in August-and that 3 weeks was probably the most intense as it came after the most exposure working in the ETU.  The third 21 days came when I returned in Nov. in an apartment at an undisclosed area where my family couldn't come see me for a while-alone with my thoughts a very lonely time.  And now this last one...I find it ironic that I am flying back on day 42.  I asked the CDC lady at the screening area if they would still be doing this for people coming from Liberia-she was not to sure. So I will have to take my temp twice a day and phone it in to health authorities again.  It's almost become second nature.

 Last week I visited ELWA 2 for the first time since July.

What it looked like last July, I am on the right with the sprayer.

Looking into an empty ETU...

I know that God will keep redeeming in all of us-revealing in His time the miracles that have happened because of this unprecedented outbreak. Every time I see our staff I thank God for the miracle that they never got sick.  Every time I visit Mary, see Rick, Kent and Nancy and other survivors we can thank God for the miracle of their life. Every time I think back and don't cry or feel shame and guilt I know that little miracles are happening in me.  In all of us. 

 

 Got to go to Foya one last time...

All of us will carry our scars-but that's ok.  Those scars help us remember those that were lost, to remember a time when our lives were changed, to remember a faithful God that for some reason had us where we were at that time to do His work.

My peeps!  

I pray that we don't have to go through waiting for another 42 days again.  But I do know that until Sierra Leon and Guinea celebrate their 42 days we are susceptible to a confirmed case crossing our border.  As long as there is a reservoir of bats in the region we are open to new infections.  But one thing I do know- we are better prepared, we are much more vigilant and I have seen people changing some of there behaviors to ensure that we do not repeat the past.  I pray these behavior changes continue. 

I know much more will be revealed when I am in the presence of the Father-and He shows me the "why" of this experience.  I know some of them he has revealed to me already-but I know there are more. In the meantime, I am grateful that Liberia has made it to 42 days.  I am reflective on the events that got us here. And I still mourn for all the pain, death and darkness that gripped a country we have come to love and call home. But for now I will board another flight, I have lost count of how many I have taken this year, and see my family as we prepare to make our way back to Liberia.  Together with our SP family again.  That, my people is one of the greatest miracles...but that's our God, a God of miracles. 

Redeeming Miracles... Part I

July 11, 2014.  Our team got a call that there was a suspect case just behind our Foya base.  Of course I was concerned, we had heard of suspect cases all that week-and many were in the Ebola treatment unit we worked at. As we headed out with our team and safety equipment I wasn't too sure what to expect. We winded through the back little bike trail where it opened up to a small mud packed house. A young woman was lying on a bench.  She was too weak to get up. We all knew this was Ebola. 

Our team started to get dressed- our leader and friend from MSF, went through with them what they were to do.  One of my colleagues who had just arrived, was with me and we both stood watching feel helpless.  The team did their job with care-all the while carefully following safety protocols.  They were a great group.  Our patient had a name-Mary-her mom told us, and Mary was pregnant.  Ugh. My heart sank again-as I knew the chance of survival for pregnant women with Ebola was very, very slim...She managed to get up, she was hot and needed shade-no one was dressed yet so no one could come and help her.  She slowly crawled to the truck and laid under the back end for shade.  I had never witnessed something so desperately sad-I could barely watch.

The day we picked up Mary...

 

We got Mary to the clinic and got her admitted, in a room with IV and drew blood to confirm what all of us already knew.  As the days went on-whenever I was in the unit I would check on Mary. As a hygienist I couldn't administer direct care-but I could make sure she was comfortable, talk to her, check that she had water, clean her area, talk to her and most importantly pray for her. Some days when I went to go check she would be sleeping-but I wasn't sure if she was sleeping or had actually passed-my heart would start beating faster and I would yell out "Mary! Mary! it's me oh!"  She would rouse out of her weak sleep and respond- "That me-oh, I here!"  Her eyes half open with that Ebola sheen on them-and I would breath a sigh of relief.  Death would not have Mary today. 

 

After doffing out of my hot suit I would go and find Mary's mom.  This sweet lady who didn't know English-would come everyday and sit outside and wait for whatever reports there were on her daughter.  I would find someone to translate into the local dialect of Kgissi-and tell her that Mary is still here and to keep praying.  We all tried our best to be as honest as possible -knowing full well how hard it was for family to not see their loved ones and having to trust a stranger with whatever news they could share with them.  This carried on for the a week-I would go in see Mary-come out find her mom, sit with her and tell her to keep praying. Everyday as I made my way to Mary's room I would pray "Lord please let her be alive-I don't want to have to tell this loving mother that Ebola has stolen her daughter from us."  I would enter-call her name and wait for her response..."I here oh! That me here!"  Thank you Jesus for one more day.

 

Then I had to leave. I had flew down to Monrovia to help the team there-take a much needed day off and see my boys.  I left Mary in very capable hands, my friends Taya, Karen, Tim, Aisha and so many more-who I knew would care for her as much as they could.  I also made sure they knew who her mom was and to let her know everyday how Mary was doing.  

 

I would hear from the team that Mary was still alive and then I was hearing that she was improving!  She was now able to come out to the courtyard-she had lost her baby but she was still alive, it was a miracle.  Then we left Liberia-broken, exhausted, shell shocked of the events we had all witnessed. I had heard that Mary survived-and yes, I was so happy-but it was hard from me to imagine-the whole experience seemed so surreal....

April 21, 2015. Foya base. It was time to go see Mary. One of our great staff members who lives in the same area as Mary was taking me back to the house-where  just over 9 months earlier I had picked up a sick woman, near death. Mary was now deaf-due to Ebola-but she could read lips in her local dialect - Kgissi...as I got to the house-her sister called for Mary.  My heart was pounding-but in a good way, not like the past. There she was.  I barely recognized her-but she recognized me. Her smile. Her eyes. She was a perfect miracle. I couldn't stop smiling-because she had Ebola and can't get it again, I could give her a hug!  We talked through interpretation and lip reading-I couldn't stop staring at her, she really is alive. 

 

Mary on the right reading her sisters lips...

 

 This woman right here-MIRACLE!

Her mom had been visiting people in a nearby community and wasn't there however, a few minutes later the kids ran up the trail-she was coming! I got up and started walking towards her on the trail-when she saw me the smile on her face instantly was branded on my heart.  Words will never be able to express the JOY that was running through me-a joy I was convinced Ebola had stolen from me.  I was so happy that she remembered me-talking quickly and laughing I asked in eagerness "what is she saying?!" Translating quickly, our staff member told me how she was happy to see me, that she remembered me telling her to keep praying for Mary. She also exclaimed, that I was looking a lot better-back in July I was very thin and exhausted, she was happy I looked bigger and healthier.  We all laughed together -it was one of the most beautiful reunions I have ever been apart of.

 

 Mary's mom, me and Mary...together-thank you Jesus...

We visited, laughed, talked, took pictures and reminisced about those dark days.  It was the best and cheapest therapy I have ever had! My SP collegue John who was with me the day that we picked up Mary belived that God would heal her.  He was so confident. I was not. John left and would ask about her-and when I heard that she had survived I was happy to admit I was wrong.  Thank you John for your prayers for Mary! The team that cared for Mary-all of you-I was just a small part for a week, so thankful for you.  You helped her as she got better, encouraged her, prayed for her-I wish you could all come back to Foya and see Mary. You deserve more than I to feel that joy, to experience these redeeming miracles for all those we lost. There is so much more that could be written about Mary-so much that I know the team that cared for her could add-I wish I would have been with you all when she was discharged.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

As I walked back to base after our great visit my heart was so full, I could physically feel it almost bursting with joy, gratitude, thankfulness...so much! Is there still hurt, pain, guilt and many more emomtions and feelings that I carry with me from this Ebola hell?  Yes. I fight many of these demons everyday.  But God in His love and His timing is replacing those with "Mary's".  Evidence for my small human mind-that He is God and He orchestrates miracles to build my weak faith.  Only God can bring such beauty from ashes.

 

A New Normal

I don't think I need to explain the title of this blog.  For many of us here at SP Liberia our lives have changed in ways we never could have imagined.  We have gone through literally world changing experiences and all of us are trying to find our new normal. 

After my last post in June, I was training for the Liberia marathon...then Ebola came back in force-and many of you reading this know the rest of the story.  Apart from the daily exhausting emotional grind of fighting Ebola there was a new part of our life that became second nature.  No touching.  Nothing. In July, I would come home after working in the Ebola unit and walk straight to the bathroom and shower.  My boys would give me "air hugs" a hugging motion three feet apart from each other. I moved out of our bedroom to the guest room-I was taking no chances. 

Washing our hands everywhere you go...

When we got back to North America we would give the odd punch in the arm or a pat on the back but no real hug and I hadn't kissed my boys' cheeks for weeks.  On day 21after leaving Liberia-I finally was able to give my mom a big hug and kiss on the cheek-and my boys' too!  Praise God! 

And now I am back in Liberia...

I have been here since Oct. 12th as the Liberia Ebola response team lead.  We have ramped up our Ebola response and we have over 300 Liberian staff and 17 international staff working hard to stop the spread of Ebola. It's been great to be back and I see God opening new doors for us to fight Ebola. Being here also means "no touch" is part of my life again.  It's been almost 3 weeks and apart from accidentally nudging someone ( and then quickly apologizing and dosing myself with hand sanitizer)-I have not touched, hugged, shaken someone's hand or given a high five.  Nothing. 

So what is that like-to live in this "new normal" in a world of no touching?  Ironically, for many of us who have lived in an Ebola infected area, it has become second nature. You feel isolated even though there are people all around you-an arm's length away.  Your words are more important when you console someone as you can't let a hug speak for you.  There is a loss of connection, the first time meeting someone and you can't shake their hand- a lot can be told by someone's hand shake!  For those who know me I like a firm confident handshake - it sets the stage for the rest of our encounter. Now, I have no idea if the person is a limp wrist :)!  

One of that hardest experiences of the no touch lifestyle for me came at different times and under two very different circumstances. The first was during those dark days back in July, already raw with emotional, mental and physical exhaustion we grappled with our friends Kent and Nancy being sick.  Tears flowed like water out of a tap, constantly. I mean we couldn't even look at each other without breaking down-and that's all we could do -was look at each other.  To look at your husband and friends and watch tears run down their cheeks and not be able to feel the strong arms of your friends or my husband around me added insult to injury.  To watch a father not be able to hug his sons as we left-broke my heart.

However, there is also another side to no touch. When I returned to Liberia -some of our staff came out to the airport to meet me-my heart was so FULL of JOY! Tears of joy flowed down as we yelled and cried three feet away from each other yelling " we can't hug, we can't hug-I am so happy to see you!!"  All I wanted to do was wrap my arms around Weemor and Dorothy, two of our amazing staff-who are like family to me-but we couldn't.  Not being able to touch in times of sorrow and pain-but also in joy is something you can't describe.  It makes everything feel incomplete-it's why we hug when we see each other and when we say goodbye.  

Many times since being back here I have wanted to hug a staff or team member after a long frustrating day-or give a big high five when we finally get an impossible task accomplished. But we can't.  Something is lost, something seems incomplete and this is our new normal.  You are self-isolated in the midst of everything and everyone-each of you walking around in your own little "no touch bubble".  In a while I will go back to North American and for another 21 days I will not touch anyone. A total of almost 2 months with no physical contact. I wonder how long it will take me to get used to contact again-or maybe I will just be running around "Hey HUG ME!"  Not sure, it's weird to even think about being allowed to.

God made us to physically connect with each other in times of sorrow and joy, fear and pain, and to encourage during discouraging times. When that is taken away-it's like a part of who we are is lost for a while.  Ebola has taken so much away from us-not just touch.  But God is still here, really He is-I see Him guiding us despite our new normal.  He is never changing, His normal is all the attributes that make Him our Lord and Savior. I can feel His "touch" in everything we do.

All of us often talk about when Ebola is over we will dance, sing praises to God for His faithfulness -and we will definitely give HUGS of joy!

Throwing in the towel...

Most of us know what this term means.  We can visualize the boxer in the ring getting hit over and over-his manager picks up a towel and out of mercy for his boxer throws it into the ring ending the fight.  Or if someone you remember in the 80's Canucks coach Richard Nielsen upset and frustrated with the referring of their Stanley Cup semi-final game against the Chicago Blackhawks, he grabbed a white towel off the bench and raised it as a mock act of surrender.  He was indicating that he had 'given up' the refs were making it so unfair, that he signaled with the white towel-'you win mister referee we can't go on we give up'.  Now, it was a mock surrender to make a point-but nonetheless, the sentiment by Canucks fans, especially a certain 11 year old girl who loved Richard Brodeur and my 9 year old brother we had the same feeling-we give up.

 Towel Power!

I have felt some of this sentiment creep into my life recently and have seen it in others too.  Let's not beat around the bush-we have had one doozy of a year so far-it's not even half over!  These past 5 months have felt like years for us-one blow after another, we just get up and get knocked down again. For me (as I will only speak for myself) I want to fix everything, help everyone-make sure everyone is OK, but I can't.  Ebola has raised it's ugly head again, this time near the border of Sierra Leon. We are heading into another season of transition with some of our awesome ex-pat staff leaving and getting ready to welcome new staff soon. We are still waiting for a finance officer-Lord willing they are coming soon! There is just a lot of things going on-and for many they have the towel in hand and are ready to give it a toss. 

 Do you really want to throw in the towel?

Now. Please, I am not complaining-please understand this-we are ALL fully aware that God has us here and we have chosen to be here.  What I am saying is, if we are all honest with ourselves, there are times in our life we want to throw in the towel.  Or we hang on to the towel, roll it up and snap it at people-hurting them and leaving us frustrated with ourselves. Or we take it and put it over our head and just don't care.  I hope I am not stretching this analogy too far.  But these past weeks it has been more and more evident that I am hanging on to a towel- gripping it hard in my hand and wanting so bad to throw it, snap it or just hide in it...

My training for the Liberia marathon is suffering.  I have thought about throwing in the towel and not running it.  I could not run it and justify it by training for the 10km and try to finish in the top 10 or something like that. But I realized on my run today that I would be throwing in the towel not because of how I feel physically, but because of my overall attitude.  You don't quit training for a marathon just because you have had a rough patch of training-or a bad run right?  If that was the case I would have never run a marathon.  It's the same with everything, just because we have had a tough stretch doesn't mean we need to throw in the towel.

This past week in River Gee, Elizabeth shared in devotions about David.  Most of us know of King David-anointed to be king as a teenager but didn't take the throne of Israel until many years after.  He could have thrown in the towel and did his own thing-after all he was anointed to be king right?  He could have killed the then king Saul many times, but he didn't.  He could have gathered an army and led a coup over Saul but he didn't.  No, he spent many years fleeing-fighting, in turmoil and at times coming very close to throwing in the towel.  Elizabeth pointed out 3 very interesting things from David's life that really struck me and my attitude about throwing in the towel.  

1.  Everytime he was faced with a bad situation-like being attacked he asked God "What should I do?" (2 Samuel 5:22-24)
2. Once he got the answer he obeyed ( 2 Samuel 5:25)
3. After the battle was finished and he was victorious he glorified God -not himself. (2 Samuel 7:18-29)

He didn't throw in the towel and do his own thing or take out his frustration on others.  He sought the Lord for guidance.  Now, I know God may not speak to us like He did to David-but He does nudge us, speak to us through His Word and in the wise counsel of others.  David obeyed. David didn't question "are you sure Lord?" -he obeyed.  David was an amazing fighter, he was musical, good looking and wise-he could have taken full credit for everything he did.  But he didn't.  He knew where his strength and wisdom came from.  Read the Psalms!  After all was said and done no matter what happened, David gave the Glory to God.

Great quote by a great author.

I find that I may get 2 out of 3 of these points during times when I want to give up.  Yes, I will seek the Lord, but it sounds more like this "Lord, come on another thing to deal with?"  Not like Daivd "Lord what should I do?"  Ummm that's not the same thing in case you were wondering.  I may obey, but it may be begrudgingly. And give glory to God-well I may not take the glory but instead I may say "Good it's about time we had something go our way!"  You see the difference? This type of attitude-leads us to a point where we get desperate, frustrated and exhausted... 

NO DON'T!

 So, I will not throw in the towel. Not throwing in the towel for the Liberian marathon or in what God is still doing here in Liberia through us. Despite the setbacks, the blows we have suffered, and the ones to come.  No, instead like David seek the Lord, obey and glorify-but don't give up.  It's times like this when we need to take a couple steps back, turn around and put our towel down at the feet of a loving Savior.  He will take it-and lovingly dip it in His bowl of grace and wipe away our tears and wash our wounds-and tell us He is with us-and it's time to get back in the ring, His work is not done...

Your Normal...

Everyone has their own definition of what their "normal" is.  It could be the everyday tasks at home and work that you carry out, it could be the regularly planned vacation spot that you take every year or it could be something completely different.  We all know what our 'normal' feels and looks like.  Over the past many years of working and living overseas I have heard myself say on more than one occasion "my life is so not normal!" This is both true and not true, yes, my life is not "normal" when compared to the life I could be living in North America.  For example-here in Liberia the normal task of going to the grocery store can take a turn very quickly-riot, mob beating on the street, unexpected lack of groceries, president's convoy racing by...etc.  However, life here has become "normal" in many ways too.  It is normal for us to have lots of people coming and going, it has become normal (not taken for granted though) to fly on the SP plane or chopper to project sites, to see snakes, to expect chaotic traffic and even see the odd bribe exchange hands.

This not so normal life has become my norm.  Strange eh? This was very evident over this past month. My "normal" life was sorta tossed on it's head as the boys and I along with other SP expat dependents were evacuated due to the Ebola outbreak in Guinea that leaked into Liberia. Yes, we had planned a holiday up to London for the marathon weekend-but we had not planned for extra days of hotels, Kendell not being to run the marathon, and not returning to Liberia as expected.  

The day of the marathon-was one of the best days of the not-so normal ones...

During this time, the boys and I spent 3 weeks in the UK with 10 days of that being with some SP Liberia staff who were in London for meetings and the marathon.  We spent a lot of time on the tube (which is amazingly efficient) and we spent time with some great friends, who have the gift of hospitality.  We spent our last week with family in Pennsylvania-and were able to meet up with fellow Liberian missionaries who live in the same area.  All of these places and people were terrific and we were so blessed by all of them.  My gratitude to them for making a difficult situation a lot easier!

At the Ransberry's in the UK-a lovely time!

However, everyday I couldn't help but long for things to be "normal" again.  To go home to Liberia and get back to our normal schedule and life-even though it's not so normal.  To get back to normal programming in Foya, to get the boys back into their normal school routine...I wanted NORMAL!!!  

I was so preoccupied by this that I found myself not acting "normal"-shocking I know but let me explain.  I stopped running, yes, you read that right-something that is normal for me I stopped doing. And when I am not on some sort of running schedule (as strange as this may sound) everything else begins to go south.  I don't eat as well (which is made worse by being in countries where I can get all sorts of crap!) which, combined with not running equals an overall feeling of 'yuck'. I start to question things-I am not so quick to go to prayer or dig in the Word...not good my people, not good.  

It was a good wake up call for me-as my sister would say "It's time to put on your big girl panties!" I needed to suck.it.up. And not get caught up with what "normal" was, is or will be.  "Normal"  for Bev, no matter where I am is running, quick to pray, to read the Word, to live life with the passion God gave me-not matter what's going on. There is a piece of scripture that kept coming to my mind...I wished many times it would stop-but the Holy Spirit has a way of knocking until you open the flippn' door!  Philippians 4:11-12.  Being content in all circumstances. Yes, we have all read and heard this passage many times I am sure.  But when your "normal" is shaken up a bit-it shouldn't mean you can't be "normal" anymore right?  In all circumstances be normal, be content. 

Seriously...

Last week in PA I realized I needed to get running again. Luckily I had brought my running warm tights, it was cold-oh!  I started running and soon started to feel normal again...and a little sore. Now that I am back in Liberia, I have started another running plan as the Liberia marathon is just around the corner at the end of August. I have never run in the Liberia marathon-and I can't wait to do so with my SP friends who are also running it.  I am starting to feel normal again in my not so normal life...

Moments...

There are certain moments of your life when you think you are in a dream or in some cases a nightmare.  Moments when you look at around and say "Is this really happening?"  I feel like a lot of 2014 has been like this...If you remember reading my first couple of blogs on adjusting with grace when things seem to go awry.  Well, I think a theme has been set for the year as it seems there are a lot of wrenches being thrown into my machine called life.

"God is our refuge and strength,

always ready to help in times of trouble"-Psalm 46:1 

Sweat + dusty road...

Don't get me wrong there have been some great moments of "This IS really happening!" When Alisa and I ran our huge run and seeing our SP marathoners peel off mile after mile.  Especially seeing Kendell keep running passed personal records every weekend.  My buddy Joni running, working out and reaching personal goals. Jamie taking her training to a whole new level, oh and she is the mother of 6... Running and training for your first marathon is not easy no matter who you are.  Kendell as the Country Director has a huge amount of work that he not only does but oversees. His day is unpredictable, everyone wanting a piece of his time-everyone wanting something it seems some days (including his wife!).  But he comes home get's his training gear on and heads out-running even as the sunsets.

There are moments of living in Liberia when it's a great privilege but it's not easy either.  Yes, we have a beautiful beach in our front yard, but we also observe first hand the ramifications of 14 years of civil war.  One of these consequences is the huge gap in the health system of Liberia.  I am not talking about a shortage in doctors, even though there is, or the lack of facilities, because that is also true. No, I am talking about capacity, capacity to take care of simple to complex health issues.  Very few incubators for babies that need it, no MRI machines or CAT scans here-hospitals are blessed if they have a working X-ray machine!  It's during these moments of realization of the lack of medical capacity that I am thankful for the prayers of many for good health for our team.

This is to be expected to a certain extent after the war left most hospitals with little to no supplies and many trained medical professionals left and still have yet to come back.  To add insult to injury we live in a petri-dish, the moist, hot and humid environment of this jungle country is perfect for diseases to reek havoc on the population.  It seems everything carries some sort of bacteria or deadly virus...and when it strikes, this deadly combo of disease and lack of medical resources...well you do the math-it's not pretty.

Never mind running in a petri-dish...

This has been no more evident than the last couple of weeks with the realization of a Ebola outbreak in Guinea and cases in Liberia.  I won't get into the details of this disease-Google it and you will get the grim picture.  I am not going to get into the details of how many cases, where they are in Liberia and what is being done-you can check BBC Africa or Reuters to get that information.  It changes every hour.  But trust me this has been a "Is this really happening?" moment.

2/3rds of team SP!

What I will tell you is how we can turn a nightmare moment into hope for the future.  SP is currently building a new hospital in partnership with ELWA/SIM.  Jamie, Joni and Kendell are running the London marathon to raise funds for this hospital.  I think you get the picture right?  Will this hospital find the cure for Ebola?  Probably not, but will it have up to date equipment to treat people, have a bigger OR and more room for patients?  For sure.  Will it build the capacity of medical workers to know how to treat patients with diseases like Ebola?  You bet.

" The nations are in chaos, and their kingdoms crumble!"

"The LORD of Heaven's Armies is here among us;

the God of Israel is our fortress"-Psalm 46:6a,7.

"Is this really happening?"  Am I really having to leave tomorrow because of Ebola? Yes, at this moment that is what is happening (along with all the rest of the SP dependents and kids). My choice is to either take this moment and see it as a nightmare or to see the hope through the darkness. Is God still in control?  Yes, in every moment He is. 

If you really want to encourage the marathoners during this "moment" of a little bit of stress, especially for Kendell and with us leaving-please consider giving -below are the links.  Thank you!

http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/kendellkauffeldt/VirginLondonMarathon2014

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/KendellKauffeldt

http://runtolove-liberia.blogspot.ca/