thankful

Friday was the day workers' last day and we sail to Spain in one week. Where has the time gone?! As I think of my time in Guinea winding down, I get extremely emotional. And to be completely honest, I'm not ready to leave. One quote I heard recently said that the heart is most full and genuine at the times of meeting and goodbye. Although this week has been filled with tough goodbyes, tears, and loss of words, I have realized that it is all a result of the blessings I've been showered with over the past five months. The reason why it's hard to leave is because of the wonderful things I've experienced: the faithful friends I've met here, the amazing trips in and around Guinea, living and working in an extremly unique environment, being in the beautiful continent of Africa, and having my eyes continually opened to the Lord's goodness. So thank you Lord, for everything you give me:

My job would be much less exciting if it weren't for my galley team. They make work not so much like work, and I'm pretty sure I work with some of the most fun and patient people on earth.



Abdul (Guinea), Kristina (USA), Aaron (New Zealand), Teresa (Nigeria), and myself.

 


   

The Food Services department! (aka the best department on the ship)



 I am so thankful for the kids of Guinea. I have so much love for them, their senses of humor, their smiles, their adorable independence, and their joy. I will dearly miss the children here... from kids at the orphanage and deaf school, to patients from the ship, to little kids on the street yelling "Foute, foute!" (white person, white person!), I will miss them all.  

I'm thankful for African worship. I've been to several African churches here, but nothing quite compared to the "day worker thank you event" on the ship this past Friday. The worship was so amazingly alive. So much dancing, loud singing, and praising the Lord. Definitely going to miss this.

 Sometimes it's easy to talk about the more exciting areas of my life here and leave out the simple, everyday things. But my dear friend, Lisa from Switzerland, has been such an encouragement, mentor, and friend over the past five months. She's the type of person that puts chocolates on your bed, happily gives you a back massage, and listens to every word you say when you talk. She's patient, hilarious, and such a faithful friend. She's a recent Christian, and her joy and love for Jesus and others is so inspiring. So so so thankful for Lisa.

This picture doesn't quite do it's justice, but I'm thankful for daily life here in Guinea.  I'm going to miss being able to walk to church, the market, or the local hospital to visit. Or taking taxis anywhere in Conakry for less than a dollar. This photo was taken on a trip to Niger Market through the rain (thus the shower cap...:))

This past week I was invited to three different friends' houses here in Guinea. I am so grateful for the dear friends I've made and that they could show me more about life here, especially the day workers that worked in or around the galley. Here's Edward, Morlaye, Florence, and Abdul.. all who live in Conakry. Will miss all of them dearly.



And lastly, I'm thankful for Mercy Ships and the huge number of crew, day workers, patients it has effected and touched over the years.

Alpha.

A couple weeks ago some church plans fell through on a Sunday morning. Instead, two of my friends and I went to the ward church service down in the hospital onboard. Although almost all the patients come from a Muslim background, and though most of them just sit there and don't participate, they have the most curious, interested looks on their faces. As I was sitting there, I was thinking that most of them were trying to figure out WHAT would enable someone to volunteer to do something like Mercy Ships?! I was almost ammused by their expressions, especially the older ones. :) I think it's wonderful that the ship provides church services to point them in the right direction spiritually, and to answer that very question for them.

In the hospital bed in front of me, sat a smiling boy with two massive tumors. One was the size of a football on the side of his neck, and the other on his back was even bigger. I couldn't stop looking at him. I could see he had quite a bit of energy despite the extra load he was carrying. He could barely keep his eyes on the preacher and singers and kept sneakily kicking around a balloon at his feet. Although I didn't talk to him, afterwards I felt moved that I needed to befriend another patient as soon as possible.

When I filled out the befriend a patient form, I requested a Sousou child, the one of three tribal languages I can speak at least a tiny bit. A couple days later I got a note on my door with my patient's name, Alpha Camara. I went down to the ward to meet him, and sure enough, there was the boy I had watched during that ward service just a few days before.

I sat down next to him and immediately grabbed my hand and smiled his huge smile. I asked the translator to explain that I was his friend and will visit him as much as I can. I also met his father, who faithfully traveled far with his son for both the screening and surgery date nine months later. He slept on a mattress under Alpha's hospital bed the whole time Alpha was onboard. He spoke French, so I was able communicate with them both a bit more than expected, which I'm very grateful for.

Alpha is an extremely kind boy, mostly through gestures. One night I went to retrieve all the dirty hospital dishes after a long day of work. Although he didn't know that I was tired, hot, and frustrated, he saw me come into his ward, smiled, and helped me collect the rest and pick up a mess I had made. One afternoon during patient time outside on deck seven, several nurses wanted to get their picture with him (he is pretty popular,) but Alpha would always look behind at me when they would walk him away and gesture for me to come with. I would wink and tell him to go on. After every evening visit he would walk me out of the ward and say goodbye at the stairs.

When I went down last week to visit Alpha, his bed was empty and made up. The nurse told me that he was either at the Hope Center or already on his way home. My heart sunk. It is a bittersweet feeling when patients leave because your time with them is gone, but it also means they are healed and their lives will be completely turned around as they return home. That brings such joy to my heart. Alpha's return to his village will be drastically different from his departure, probably with smiles and looks of disbelief, instead of distain and little faith of his tumors being gone. The Lord is so good! Even though it hurts me that I might not see Alpha again on this earth and that I never got to hug him goodbye, my hope is that he will remember that the Lord Jesus Christ is the one that made it possible for him to be healed. If he doesn't remember me, I hope he at least remembers his Creator who had this all planned out before the beginning of time.



Alpha, me, and my friend Lea, with her patient.