Thankful for the little things

It was strange and, at times, sad to spend Thanksgiving away from home.  Living in Craig meant that we often didn’t make it to family Thanksgiving but it was still difficult being so far away.  We missed football and sweet potatoes and cranberries (at least Tracey did) and, of course, family and friends.  The choppy Skype chat just didn’t quite compare to being present with those we love.  In spite of the feelings of homesickness, I (Tracey) felt that this Thanksgiving brought up more of a thankful spirit than I’ve had in Thanksgivings past.  It was all the little things that go on here that reminded me of just how blessed we are and just how much we have to be thankful for.

What seems like such a given to us is sometimes well out of reach for many people in this country.  I take access to healthcare so for granted.  I heard a story this week of a woman who was septic (blood poisoning) from a C-section and she was turned away at the hospital out of town because they either didn’t know what to do or didn’t have the means to do it.  Likely that woman went home to die of a fairly easily treated condition.  We are also reminded when we see patients with huge tumors that are filling their entire mouth and slowly suffocating them.  These would have been pea sized tumors easily removed in the states that have just gotten out of hand.  I thank the Lord that we have access to this medical care and that we have our health so that we can help others.

We have also been constantly reminded about all the little conveniences we have living on this ship.  We are living in Africa but we are really so blessed by what we have access to on this ship.  We are safe, dry, warm when we need to be, cool when we need to be, well fed, entertained, and surrounded by an amazing community of like-minded people.  As is natural, complaints come about little things on the ship and so we have tried to be intentional about stepping back and realizing what a blessing it is to live as we do and do our best to not complain about how we are living (which is better than about 90% of the world even though we are in Africa).

This beautiful story written by one of our writers and friends, Joanne, reminds me yet again about how we need to spend each day being thankful for the little things that we often take for granted.

"Volunteer nurse Melinda Kaney joyfully exclaimed, “The eight-plate surgery to straighten Fooday’s legs worked wonderfully!” Aladji, Fooday’s father, was so grateful that his eldest son’s journey to healing was complete. Fooday would now return to school and perhaps, one day, be a teacher – something his mother Yakha dreamed about for her son.

Fooday’s start in life was tenuous, Aladji recalls. “Fooday was born prematurely. He was so tiny and weak, we didn’t think he would live. All of our family and the neighbors prayed for Fooday to pull through. By the grace of God, he did.”

When Fooday began walking at eighteen months, his parents noticed that his legs were bowed. The family’s meager income wasn’t enough to pay for the herbal poultices offered by the traditional healer. In desperation, Aladji resorted to beggging to raise money for Fooday’s sessions. Sadly, the traditional medicine did not help – the abnormal curve in Fooday’s legs worsened.

Yakha explains how much they worried for their son. “Fooday had pain that kept him crying all night. But worse was the shame and hurt that I knew Fooday would go through with bent legs.” Yakha’s fears were well-founded. When Fooday started school at age five, other children continually laughed at him. After a few steps Fooday’s unsteady gait would falter, and he would fall. With each tumble Fooday faced another barrage of insults. Aladji and Yakha were heartbroken. The only safe place for Fooday was at home. He could no longer go to school.

Praying continually, Yakha and Aladji asked God for a miracle of healing for Fooday. Aladji clearly recalls the morning that their prayers were answered. “There was an announcement on the radio that a hospital ship was coming to provide free medical care. I heard that the hospital did surgeries for children with bent legs. Yakha and I were overjoyed.”

Within three weeks Fooday was onboard the Africa Mercy hospital ship for his free surgery. A small metal plate, in the shape of a figure eight, was attached to the outside of each of his leg bones. The eight-plate, designed to slowly correct the bow in Fooday’s legs, would also allow the bones to grow straight in the future. When successful, this technique avoids a much larger operation that requires the bones to be broken and reset. 

Now, only one step remained until everyone could breathe a complete sigh of relief. After doing their straightening job, the eight-plates would need to be removed. Otherwise, the legs would bow out the other way! So, over the next eighteen months, while back at home, Fooday’s legs gradually straightened. His eventual return to school was a cause for amazement as his schoolmates could already see a dramatic change in his legs.

At the eighteen-month point, Aladji and Fooday eagerly travelled to the Africa Mercy hospital, now docked in Conakry, Guinea, for his final surgery.

Fooday’s reunion with nurse Melinda was filled with excitement, hugs and giggles. “Melinda took such good care of me when I had my first surgery, and I always hoped I would see her again. Now, here she is giving me the best hug of my life!” he declared.

As it turned out, Fooday’s eight-plate removal was not the only step in store for the family. To Aladji’s surprise, Mercy Ships had a greatly appreciated treatment in store for him too. For years Aladji had focused entirely on Fooday’s healing, while ignoring the pain of his own four decayed teeth and infected gums. At the same time that Fooday was in the Africa Mercy hospital, Aladji had an appointment at the Mercy Ships Dental Clinic. Aladji, with the tormenting dental pain completely gone, shared a warm smile with Fooday back at the ship. Aladji whispered in his son’s ear, “Fooday, thanks to Mercy Ships, it is happy teeth for me and back to school for you!! God is good!”

Fooday’s bowed legs started at the age of eighteen months when he began to walk. The prayers of his family for Fooday’s healing were answered when he was accepted for free surgery onboard the Africa Mercy hospital ship while it was in Sierra Leone.

Eighteen months following his first surgery to straighten his bowed legs, Fooday, along with his father, Aladji, were transported to the Africa Mercy hospital ship, now docked in Conakry, Guinea. Fooday, his father and other hospital patients enjoy nutritious meals while staying at the HOPE Center – which provides room and board for out-of-town patients before and after surgery.

Volunteer physiotherapist Kalinda Ramsaran completes the assessment of Fooday’s leg movements. Fooday’s original eight-plate surgery was a complete success. The second and final step of Fooday’s journey, removing the eight-plates, was also successful. Fooday and his father, Aladji, both look forward to Fooday’s return to school.

Now Fooday can run, jump and play with straight and steady legs. He can return to school and be accepted by the other children. Fooday’s mother, Yakha, prays for her son to one day become a teacher.

Fooday shows off his straight-as-an-arrow leg to his proud and happy father, Aladji. Fooday couldn’t wait to return home to tell his mother, Yakha, that he was completely healed and ready to go back to school.

Fooday’s father, Aladji, greatly appreciated the unexpected healing he received. The Mercy Ships dental clinic treated Aladji’s very painful tooth decay and gum infection. Aladji said to his son Fooday, “Thanks to Mercy Ships, it is happy teeth for me and back to school for you! God is good!”

Written by Joanne Thibault

Edited by Nancy Predaina

Photos by Debra Bell


We are so thankful for our health and the health of our beautiful girls. We are thankful for access to medical care and schooling. And we are so very thankful for all of our faithful supporters that have sacrificed in order that we can be here.

Island Adventures

Every six week the ship has a 3 day weekend. We (OK, maybe just me (Tracey)) have had some cabin fever lately and have been dying to get off the ship and see some more of the country.   This is, however, easier said than done when factoring in the needs of two small children.  We just haven’t felt up to the task of doing much knowing how much it takes to go anywhere with a 2 year old and 7 month old.  But after much debate we decided to travel Friday to one of the islands off the coast of Guinea with a group of people for the day.  The ship has these trips organized so all we had to do was sign up and show up on the dock to meet the boat (and pay 50,000 Guinea francs, which sounds like quite a lot but is really only about $7). 

We were a bit aprehensive since Cora is getting 2 teeth and we knew both girls would miss their naps for the day.  I tried to dispell this aprehension by psyching us up as we were getting ready.

I had to laugh as I had this conversation with Cora as we were getting ready:

“Cora, we are going to the beach today!  You get to ride on a boat for the first time. . .Oh wait.  You live on a boat.”

Adalynn needed no help getting excited.  She had been playing with her life jacket all morning and couldn't wait to wear it and to get to the beach.  She was also very excited about riding in a boat and it made me wonder if she even realizes we live on a boat.  Probably not.  She sees all the ships around us and gets excited but I guess it's hard to comprehend that we actually live on a ship too!

We were amazed at how much we had to bring.  All the single people had small little backpacks for the day and we had a large backpack, beach bag, beach tent, hiking backpack and 2 children.  As we lugged our things to the dock we wondered if we’d made the right decision.  We squeezed Cora into a life jacket, which immediately put her in a very bad mood.  Adalynn was very excited about her life jacket.  The 40 minute boat ride to the island consisted of Cora screaming most of the way and Adalynn puking about 6 times.  “It can only get better” we thought.  And it did!!  It was a great day of relaxing, hanging out with friends, swimming in the ocean and a spontaneous soccer game with some islanders.

 



View down the beach.  The water was really calm and the kids could walk out quite a ways. 



Adalynn and Emma loved making sand cakes with thier new friend Susanne.



These look like the boats we took over to the island.  I didn't have my camera out when our actual boats dropped us off.

Impromtu soccer game with sticks in the sand for goals.

There were several houses along the beach that were empty.  We are not sure if they are vacation houses or for sale. 

We even had a private concert!!  I was amazed at how the locals looked similar to every other "islander" I've ever met!



The girls were both totally mesmerized.



Cora took a nap in her tent. 

Adalynn slept the entire way back and Cora was happy most of the way. When we got back to the dock we were shocked to see that the tide had changed so much that where we just stepped onto the boat on the way out we had a 15 foot climb on a ladder to get back to the dock.  The girls were hoisted up by some nice Guinean men on the dock.  A great dramatic end to a great day.  We were exhausted and have spent yesterday and today recovering but overall we are so thankful for a day in this beautiful country away from the noise and pollution of the city!

Through the love of our children

Looking back at all that has gone on in our lives since April, I am amazed.  We knew it was going to be a lot and we knew we would look back and wonder what we were thinking but we pressed on because we felt the Lord guiding us down this path.  However, it’s one thing to know that the Lord has called you to do something and another thing entirely to be in the midst of really hard life and cling to that memory and knowledge of God’s small voice.  He doesn’t always keep repeating over and over what he asks of you.  Sometimes he tells you and asks that you follow and trust him when his voice feels more distant.  Both John and I had been through hard times like this before and we made it through but it felt like an entirely different story bringing two small children through it.  Did we really hear God asking us to do this?  At one point in our training in Texas and another time once we got to the ship I said to John that I think this whole experience was too much for Adalynn and she would never be the same.  She just wasn’t her carefree, happy self anymore.  I was so worried that she was scarred forever from her 4 months of transitions. 

In the time from April to August Adalynn became a big sister, moved 4 times, spent a month away from us for most of the day, left the country, said too many goodbyes, slept in 8 different beds, moved onto a big ship. . . .It was so much for John and I and we couldn’t even imagine what she must be going through.  No wonder she was fussy and not herself.    I mentioned this in an earlier post but it has really stuck with me. It was during our hard transition to the ship that someone reminded me that the Lord would not lead us to Mercy Ships at the expense of our children. The Lord has not called John and me alone but he has called us as a family.  They also felt like the Lord told them that Adalynn and Cora have their own special role here and they were excited to see what that would be.  It was exactly what we needed to hear.  We had so much peace knowing that the Lord has special plans just for them and we can trust Him fully to take care of them.

How grateful we are to be through that transition and see the girls thriving.  These last few weeks we have been so blessed to see one aspect of their role on this ship.  The Guinean people love babies.  Maybe that is too broad and overarching of a statement but I have not met a man, woman or child who is not automatically drawn to Cora and Adalynn.  We have spent quite a bit of time down in the hospital and outside playing with the patients these last few weeks.  The wards are filled with adults and children who have lived their lives with deformities that have led to ridicule and isolation.  It seems many are afraid to cling to the hope of a new life that is being offered to them through their physical healing. Some are still fairly withdrawn and in addition there are cultural and language barriers that can make it difficult to interact with some of the patients and their families.   It can take a while to bring them out.  But Adalynn and Cora have a way of building cultural bridges in the span of about 2 seconds.  Women, men and children fight to hold Cora.  They call her beautiful baby and unabashedly give her hugs and kisses.  I can see their faces soften and their eyes light up.  It allows me to feel a connection to them that, otherwise, may have taken several days or weeks.  We cannot always communicate with words but we can understand each other through the love of our children.

 

Adalynn causes the same reactions but isn’t quite as eager to be held and passed around. I usually have her bring some crayons or books to share and she will sit with the kids and play with them. I am just so amazed that they don’t speak the same language but they can still be kids and play together. It actually even made me glad that Adalynn showed some of her not-so-proper two year old behavior because it made me remember that she isn’t trying to be anything that she is not. She doesn’t see these people any differently than others. She is just herself. She has also learned some French and Susu! I can sit with the moms and watch our kids play together and I can sense that the distance between us narrows. We may never get to verbally tell someone about Jesus but I feel that Adalynn and Cora are showing aspects of Jesus’ love just by being who they are. What a gift to watch!

 

As we watch the impact our kids are having on the people of Guinea we are so thankful that not only will they “make it through this time” but they will thrive and we will all be better for it.  Our prayer is that they grow up without a sense of racial or socioeconomic division, but so aware of God’s beautiful diversity and with hearts that desire to serve others.

Memouna Laughs

This is a great story thanks to one of our very talented writers on the ship!  It's great to get a personal glimpse into how the work of Mercy Ships is bringing hope and healing. 

Written by Catherine Murphy
Edited by Nancy Predaina
Photos by Debra Bell

Go down two flights of stairs on the Africa Mercy, and you’ll find you’ve stepped out of a ship and into a busy buzzing hospital. On the wards you’ll find kids playing, doctors praying, patients visiting, and plenty of African music. Listen . . . you’ll hear conversations in English echoed by translators in French or one of Guinea’s three local languages – the chatter forms a background like white noise.
One would expect that a 13-year-old girl would be among the chattiest – but not Memouna.
Memouna’s pronounced facial tumor began above her left eyebrow, spilling down her face to the corner of her mouth and displacing her left eye. This tumor, a neurofibroma she has had since birth, left her looking like one side of her face was sliding off – like Dali’s famous melting clock in a desert. From behind the curtain of her deformity, Memouna saw the world with her good right eye. And . . . to her despair . . . the world saw Memouna.

 

For 13 years she was taunted for her appearance. Moreover, superstitions run deep in West African culture, and physical deformities are believed to be the sinister mark of someone cursed. Memouna was not only teased by peers – she was completely dismissed. The drooping facial tumor became the source of a broken spirit.
“She was not happy because in Africa people stay away from her. She would cry because she did not understand why no one liked her,” said Memouna’s 17-year-old sister, Aminata, the oldest of her nine siblings.
“I had so many sleepless nights worrying how to help my child,” said Memouna’s father, who was trying to sell his car to afford her surgery when he learned the Africa Mercy was coming to Conakry. “I was told that no one would be able to do the surgery except Mercy Ships. I had no money to pay with . . . and then God paid!”
On Wednesday, 26 September 2012, Mercy Ships surgeons removed Memouna’s tumor. After her operation, even under layers of bandages, the transformation was profound. Memouna’s profile no longer appeared rough and misshapen. Her face had been physically lifted from the weight of the tumor. Nurses hoped her spirits would follow, but removing years of social isolation is a much more complicated procedure.

In the days after her operation, quiet Memouna said nothing, while her father and sister took turns staying at the hospital and speaking on her behalf. “I’m sorry, maybe she will talk more another day,” her sister would say to visitors.
Mercy Ships ward nurse Lynne White said, “It was a long time before I realized she spoke. She was so silent that I didn’t think she could. But I can understand it. She went from spending her life keeping to herself with no friends, and then she came here and was overwhelmed by the attention.”

One night a week after the surgery, Lynne came into the ward to find Memouna listening to headphones, nodding her head to music and mouthing the words. “I couldn’t believe it, so I did whatever I could to try to get a laugh out of her – I started dancing!” Lynne said. “Memouna just laughed and laughed. It was wonderful!”

Two weeks later Memouna arrived on the dock with her father for a check-up. She kept to herself, waiting on the benches. “Is that my Memouna?” Lynne exclaimed. Hearing her name, Memouna glanced around to find Lynne, not walking, but dancing over to her. “It’s you, you’re here!” Lynne cheered, waving her arms in the air.
Memouna clapped her hands and covered her mouth, trying and failing to hold back her giggles.
Even though Memouna does not give up her laughter easily, she lets those who show her love see the real Memouna. In those moments, there is a cute teenager in a pink sweatshirt and orange nail polish . . . where a timid, downcast child used to be.
The removal of Memouna’s tumor marks the beginning of physical . . . and spiritual . . . healing.