Seasons

The view of Mount Cameroon, September 11, 2017

Your soundtrack for this post--press play and scroll on

This part of the world sees a unique progression of seasons. Dry season, rainy season, dry season, and rainy season. It's been some months since Mount Cameroon's silhouette was visible on the other side of the Wouri River. It's hidden behind the layers of  matte grey and white, sometimes clouds, but more often dust that blows down every year from the Sahara Desert. We are nearing the end of the dry season called harmattan.

Arial photo of the "official" Mercy Ships Sports Complex (a.k.a. parking lot),
as seen from Deck 8. Photo credit: Saul Loubassa Bighonda

This week, there was a soccer game on the dock between the deck and dental departments (only on a hospital ship...). As the final whistle blew, the clouds billowed in visible layers and turned a deep gray, and it was apparent that in a matter of minutes they would let loose. As I relocated from the dock to the top decks--to get a better view of course--you could hear the wind approaching, and when it hit the ship, rumor has it a plastic chair went blowing clear across Deck 7. I stood with a handful of crew up there and watched the rain soak the dock, pummel the Land Cruisers, come tumbling out of the downspouts. The lightening came next, then the thunder. For the first time in months, I shivered standing in the open air as cool droplets blew in on those of us standing under the shelter of Deck 8, and decided it was refreshing. Rainy season is here once again.

Since the ship's arrival in August, during the last rainy season, the surgical team has performed 1,884 interventions for 1,761 unique patients (I added more detailed numbers on the left sidebar), and the Africa Mercy celebrated seeing its 30,000th patient treated since its deployment in 2007.

The Eye Team celebrates the AFM's 30,000th patient! Photo cred: Saul

Ecclesiastes 3:1,11-14

"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven... He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God's gift to man. I perceived that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it."

A few months back, I was sitting in the dining room with some friends talking about what we would do if we had only a year left to live. Then we realized the irony of us having this conversation while working on a hospital ship in Africa. I realized that a weekly rhythm that starts out feeling comfortable can easily start to feel monotonous, like any other desk job. It takes intentionality and mindfulness to hold onto the sense of wonder that was fresh and easy at the beginning of the field service. This is a perfectly normal feeling that signals the end of the honeymoon period. Isn't it the same with most fresh changes in life? The last thing I want people "back home" to think is that when I decided to offer my skills overseas with Mercy Ships, I immediately floated away on a happy cloud of khaki, bugspray, and the laughter of small children.

Be encouraged. Wherever you find yourself, be present, working at it with all your heart. Show up, and reach out.That is what it means to have the heart of a missionary, whether in the Midwest or West Africa.  Lord knows it's a choice every day, and I'm the last person who should be pretending to give advice, because I need this reminder right now, too.

Colossians 3:23-24 (ESV)

"Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ."

Photo credit: Saul

I've decided to stop this post here, because I tend to get carried away with words, and this update is long past due. For now, I'll leave you with a video that my friend Caleb, the ship's videographer, made in his free time with some of his footage, featuring just a few of the incredible, sweet, and courageous patients that have come and gone so far in this field service. Fun fact: the patient you see at 0m42s and 1m11s is the same man you see at 1m47s. His name is Ernest.