1/11/10

Monday…our first day of clinic in Mukeu. We arrived early and excited to begin our work here. Right as the clinic began, Chris came and told me he was going to make a little house-call. Someone had passed out while working in the fields. Do you remember the Mike I spoke of yesterday? It turned out to be his mother. So Chris grabbed his medical supplies assuming this 48 year old woman was just dehydrated and headed out to pay her a visit. When he got there, however, he quickly realized it wasn’t as simple as he suspected. He blood pressure was dangerously high and he knew he had to get her up to the clinic ASAP. I was working in the pharmacy when Chris came back. There was a lot of commotion, all 3 doctors and 2 nurses were trying to get Miss Margaret to respond to them. I kept hearing them shout her name, trying to get her to open her eyes, follow directions, etc. It seemed like an eternity of controlled chaos. I tried staying calm and finish my duties in the pharmacy, but I was really afraid for this woman. It did not sound like things were going well at all. My eyes were filled with tears and all I could do was pray for my husband, and pray for Miss Margaret. I was really afraid we were losing her. I’ve never experienced anything like that before. So I stood in the pharmacy right next to the room where Margaret was having a stroke right before their very eyes and they could do nothing to stop it and prayed for a miracle. As I looked up, a faded, wilted Bible verse that was taped to the wall jumped out at me as if it was as plain as day: “Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you and you will honor me.” Psalm 50:15. No other words could have touched my heart any deeper than those. It was my prayer for the remainder of the day. Chris took Margaret in a taxi to Kijabe, the closest hospital to our small village (still an hour’s drive). They got a few tests done and waited all day to get her admitted. I was a bit worried about him. I don’t know that I had ever been so glad to see him as when he walked in tonight. We had finished the clinic, walked through the village where Dr. Bunge and Adam were measured by a tailor for a handmade suit (you should see their irons! They are about 6 inches tall and the handle lifts up so they can put hot embers in it to heat it. So cool!), I passed out stickers to the village children (you should have seen them putting stickers all over their faces…the extreme joy from such simple pleasures is incredible) and walked all the way home through the mud before Chris made it back. He looked exhausted! I must say, no longer am I merely proud of my husband. Today, I really was in awe of him. I could not do what he did today in a million years. I’ve heard him speak often of such situations at work. I know what he does. But I’ve never seen it. Today I did, and I’m truly in awe. I’m so glad to be able to understand him better now. Because it was a dear family friend who had the stroke and also because Mike is hired help at the Kibaritas, Mike came there after school to help milk the cows, etc. He didn’t yet know that his mother had collapsed. We naturally assumed that he did, so he was quite shocked when we told him what poor shape his mother was in. He silently listened as he held himself up with the assistance of a table, and then dutifully went to finish his chores. He and his brothers came for dinner, but they stayed in their own home without a parent tonight. They, tonight, are essentially orphans. Mike really amazed me. He asked the blessing over our food and spoke with such strength and grace as he prayed for his mother in Kikuyu and then proceeded to pray for every single person in our circle. Then, after his prayer, he graciously got up and passed a plate to everyone. He was selfless in his servant hood, even in the midst of his sorrow. I learned a lot from this 17 year old boy tonight. He is a gracious servant. I pray that others might say the same about me some day. I have a lot to learn about selflessness.