Exhaustion is a good way to know that you're tired

Okay, so I have changed my settings so you all see your comments as soon as you leave them. I had them set to be moderated, but I see that this has caused some confusion and I hate to see you all in this confused state, so hopefully things will become easier after today! :)

Oh, this has been a LOOoong week already. Can I tell you a bit about it? Well, just so you know, I have a permanent tank top on, even when I am wearing a bathing suit. No, it isn't because I don't take the tank top off, I try to but no matter what, it is permanently on me...my skin to be exact, it's on my skin. I am a funny sight to see, tan, but not stylish tan, farmers tan tan. Try not to be jealous, especially since you are probably very white from the winter you are still in...but my tan comes from many hours walking the community in the hot sun...okay, you can be jealous, because it is amazing! Walking through the community is completely altering. Imagine the sound of music, but instead of short grassy mountains you are walking through tall itchy grass, red dirt under your feet, passing by a very occasional but beautiful orange flower, randomly placed by God to delight it's passerbyers. You walk up, up higher, the path is narrow and a bit slippery with the smooth dirt covering it. I wonder if any snakes are around, I walk a little harder...Somehow we are walking to a house, up on the hillside we find a woman, she is sitting under a tree on a woven mat, her small pillow is bright fuchsia, she has a ceramic pitcher with water next to it and a single avocado. She is old, a wonderful sight to see in a community of children, she is dying. We speak with her a bit. Well, the nurse speaks with her, I look on and offer as many smiles as she will accept. David, the nurse, passes her an oral thrush medication. She says she aches all over. When she coughs she feels like her chest will split in two. Probably has TB. We give her cough syrup and some pain medication, basically Ibuprofen. David asks me to pray for her. I was overwhelmed by the thought, what do I say? I kneel next to her and pray for her healing, believing that it is possible, believing that God can do what He has done before. I get up hoping that she will get up as well and look better, she sits there and looks out into the distance. I wonder if my faith is too small to make anything happen. We walk away and I feel discouraged, I am so inadequate....I am reminded that my inadequacy doesn't matter. I never had any strength anyways. BUT, God is completely adequate, and His power is able to do anything. Check yourself Megan, whose power are you trusting in? I try to remember, to rest in God's power as we walk to the next house. The sun is high and hot, my skirt is uncomfortable in the heat, it is long. I wish for a wide brimmed hat to protect my eyes as I look down at the path. We walk through the grass and up by some big rocks that are designed with textures caused by running water at one time passing over them, the words "Car Shop" have been sprayed onto them. We all chuckle a bit as these rocks are where no car would ever be able to drive. Walking a little further I see a small bunch of cacti growing in the cracks of these rocks. I smile and think of home. My first Cacti sighting in Africa. The next patient is a man, old as well. His eyes are glossy and I wonder if he is going to cry. He is wearing a paper thin pink oxford with grey pin-striped pants. His thin body is sitting on a wooden bench, his arms resting on his knees. He says his whole body aches, his back, his hips. He appears to be in pain, wanting some rest as he looks into my eyes. I want to hold him, comfort him. We give him cough syrup and David asks me to pray for him. His name is Jensen. I go and kneel next to him, a hand on his shoulder, another on his wrist. I pray for his healing, for his comfort, for peace. Please God, show him in his heart your love. As I sit back down in my seat David tells me that most of the patients believe that when I lay my hands on them that they will be healed. Pressure, Inadequacies, powerless....but God, remember, God is powerful, adequate, He is able. I struggle to remember and hope that the patients are not too let down as a miracle has not happened...yet, not in my presence at least. But God does things in His time, not ours.... This was my struggle throughout the day, and I am thirsty, hungry, hot, overwhelmed. God please send your peace.
Our last patient of the day. I walk into the room made out of tin and covered by newspaper and then sheets to make walls. Her body is topless, I can only see her back as she is seated on the floor on a mat. A thin mat, covered with plastic and then a thin sheet. The room smells of urine. She is stocky in build and her head covered in short beautiful grey hair. She is wearing a skirt, she has a towel bunched between her legs. She is beautiful, her skin fresh looking, moist. Her daughter covers her with a towel around her shoulders. She has had a stroke and her right side is not working. Wonderfully her small voice is heard, she just had regained her ability to speak. I smiled, it was beautiful. She spoke to us, brooke and I, as if we understood Saswati, as if we understood her story. No one could lift her, so she lived on this mat. Her low back was beginning to get bed sores, she had been constipated for over two weeks, she had to sit in her own urine. She receives a pension, her children steal it before she can use it. She needs some adult diapers, she needs transport to the clinic...what she needs is for someone to love her and care for her, but she is just a bother. Brooke and I both lay our hands on her to pray, as I pray out loud I feel her leaning into me, leaning into the prayer, leaning into the touch and I felt overwhelmed by her need, her desire. She wanted so much to be healed, so much to be touched, loved. An ache still lies in my chest when I think of her. When we walked away I wondered who would be there to take care of her. Oh God, please take care of her, please be her comforter.
My heart aches with each story I learn, each face I am able to see in pain. We had a prayer meeting last Friday morning and asked those volunteers to come in the middle of the group for us to pray over them. We had chosen to meet at one of the preschools for orphans called k2. As we started to pray one of the volunteers went inside the school room and brought out the baby, four more little bodies followed her, she brought them into the middle of the circle. They were sick, they needed healing. Oh I cried, to think of these children, orphans, younger than 4...sick. This is the usual, the typical, the devastating. Please pray for these people, this country, this continent. Pray that I would allow the love of Jesus to flow out of my every pore.

I have been homesick, just recently struggling with my emotions more than usual. It has been a month already, I hoped I would be more settled. I suppose it can change from day to day. I woke this morning to the news that my Gramps passed away yesterday, the one who I thought for a while was Korean, the one who gave me my eyes, my pouty lips, my red skin. This strong invincible man is no longer here on earth and my heart aches, for my family, for my pops, for my grams. I remember his huge hands, he was so strong, he could do anything...my father takes after his abilities. It is difficult not to be there, but God has a design and I wonder if my heart could take it? I was devastated when Seth was gone...maybe it is best for me to be here? Actually, I know that it is best because this is where I am supposed to be. But pray for my family, this was unexpected and painful. I am thankful that Gramps knew God, that he is in a better place for sure. I loved my Gramps and will miss him. I am thankful for who he was!