Second Fiddle

When we signed up to join the Africa Mercy, you would not believe how many people asked if I was a nurse or if Jordan was a doctor.

Um... no.

I didn't really blame anyone for thinking that though; I grew up knowing about Mercy Ships because their first ship to Africa, the Anastasis, had come to Guinea a few times when I was a kid. But I had never stopped to think about joining up because I wasn't medical. It wasn't until Jordan and I were visiting my parents in N'Zao and an electrician from the ship was there at the same time and told us that support positions are needed. (Now that we're here, that seems so obvious. It's actually split pretty evenly between strictly "medical" and "non-medical" as far as numbers go.) He told us they needed a carpenter and so, long story short, we came!

I don't really remember what I thought I would apply for at first but at one point I noticed that a hostess was needed and the job description fit exactly into my likes/dislikes so it seemed perfect! In the back of my mind though, I wondered if I would struggle working behind-the-scenes. I'll confess, sometimes I wonder how in the world our friends back home are still interested in what we're doing when I don't post a whole lot about life-changing medical surgeries. My first day on the ship, I remember being spiritually attacked. I was making up a bed for an incoming couple and it hit me that I was BEHIND THE SCENES in every sense of the phrase. Holed up in a cabin making up a bed that no one but that new crew would ever see seemed a bit anti-climatic for my first day on the mission field. Ugly but true thought there.

Then, I made my way down a few days to make up another bed, this time in a 6-berth. As I was struggling with the top-bunk mattress (the only reason for any upper arm strength I may have gained since arriving) something on the wall caught my eye. It was a quote I'd never seen before and it was one of those moments were God tapped me on the shoulder and reminded me that He cares about what's on my mind. It hit me like a ton of bricks so of course I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture.

And please don't take this as me trying to somehow brag about being the second fiddle--that's not it at all. But ever since that first day, I really have had no insecurities about the role that I'm in. The fact is that my personal day does often mix with the hospital but for the most part the divine moments I see are of another kind. But this past week, I had an extra special moment that happened to involve the hospital and it gave me a renewed vision for my purpose here. I want to share it with you and I hope you enjoy!

This is my housekeeping team--or at least, 14 of the 24. They are phenomenal. Each morning as I walk into my office they are either singing, praying, or encouraging each other before they start the day. They check back into the laundry room all throughout the day so we see and greet each other all the time. They are the most friendly and welcoming people I know and I count it a privilege to have met each and every one of them.  

On Thursday, I got a call from the hospital laundry room. It was one of my housekeeping supervisors and he asked me to come down as Sarah (name changed), one of my Malagasy day crew, had fallen down. I quickly went down the three flights of stairs and into the hospital, with all the sights, smells, and sounds that accompany a hospital. Sure enough, Sarah had fallen off of a small step ladder and couldn't put any weight on her foot. I walked down the corridor to the crew clinic and asked if there was any way they could come check her out but unfortunately the crew nurse and doctor were in the middle of seeing another patient and couldn't come--was there any way I could find two men to carry her down? At that suggestion, another crew member who was himself waiting to be seen by the crew nurse jumped up and told me that he could help! So together we went and found a wheel chair, got her in it, and brought her down to the crew clinic. It was lunchtime then so I told the administrative assistant to page me as soon as they knew anything and I would drive her home. Then I turned to explain Sarah in French that as soon as the doctor had finished seeing her, they would call me and I would take her home. I love Sarah; she has spunk. As soon as I said that she goes, "DOCTOR? My foot just hurts, I don't need a doctor!"

So you can imagine my surprise when I was paged an hour later and told she was getting her foot x-rayed... 

... and then again another hour later when I was paged and was told that her foot was broken and she was with the rehab team getting it casted. I went down to the outpatient rehab room and watched them finish up putting her cast on. Then she was handed a pair of crutches and she made her slow way down the hall. I signed out a car to take her home and after very carefully making her hobbled way down the gangway, we were on our way. When we got to her house, we sat down in her living room and I addressed the question that I knew she didn't want to ask: missing work. I reassured her to not worry about it; that we would of course compensate for the days she would be missing. Then it occurred to me that she might be worried about hospital bills although that seemed a bit far-fetched since she works in the hospital and knows that all of the surgeries and procedures are done for free. I decided to mention it to her anyways though and at that she burst into tears. 

I hastily asked what in the world was wrong and she simply said, "The doctors here in Madagascar would never treat me like this. I can't believe how I've been treated today. You all have been so kind." Of course that turned on the waterworks in me and I started trying to think of what to say in French and finally managed to blubber out, "It's the love of Jesus. That's how we can treat you that way." To which she grabbed the bottom of her shirt to wipe her eyes and nodded and said, "Today, I've seen that. I know. You have no idea how much this has touched me." 

I really care about Sarah. She brings a quiet but joyful steadiness to the team that I've come to respect. When I saw her hurting I wanted her to be helped and I was so grateful for the hospital staff that jumped to fit in an unexpected patient. To see her reaction was absolutely priceless. To see someone so in awe of a gift that had been given to them--just because it's what we do, not anything calculated--is what this ship is here to do. I thought about her that whole afternoon and then the next day and then all weekend and now today as I'm writing this post it's just hitting me that that's why we do what we do. Yes, we do surgeries because they are needed and the patients just 1 deck below my feet would have no future without surgery. But we also do surgeries for the love of Jesus that act of kindness reveals. It's real, it's genuine, it's the end goal and there's no way this whole ship would work without Him in it. So really, no matter what I do (and the fact is that I actually LOVE my job) it's His love that's doing the work.