The situation here on the ship is getting a little desperate. People keep leaving. People that I really really like. Today my good friend Rachel left and I know that life will never be the same again. Nurses are leaving at a much higher rate than they are coming. (Hint: If anyone reading this is a nurse and has a couple of months to spare, I know some amazing African children that would love to meet you). The rainy season is coming. That means less sunny days and consequently less Vitamin D. I have been noticing via facebook albums that my nieces and nephews are growing at a very rapid pace and I am missing critical moments in their little lives. It is spring in Canada, and I can no longer basque in the knowledge that I am missing out on blizzards. My body has finally clued in to the fact that it doesn't like working 8 days in a row and flipping between day shifts and night shifts like it is going out of style. And, I found out last night, we are running out of cheese. Two more blocks to be exact. Then, the Africa Mercy will become a cheeseless society. There are no words.

I could allow myself to get upset about the myriad of issues that are currently plaguing my heart, or I could choose to make lemonade (or whatever that saying is....we don't have lemons here, so lemonade might be out of the question). One of my favourite things about life and God is how He knows exactly when we are getting desperate. When we need something to remind us that we are blessed and life is beautiful, not always because of our circumstances, but because He makes beautiful moments despite the circumstances. Wednesday April 3oth, at 1:00 in the morning, turned out to be one of those moments. The circumstances weren't anything spectacular. Most of my life's greatest moments had nothing to do with spectacular circumstances. Katie & I have often had the discussion about how the meaningful moments, the ones that truly make you stop and reflect about how happy you are to be alive, have no particular setup. They don't cost money. They usually have no planning. They just happen and, for a brief time, your heart has a sense of complete, pure, innocent joy. Like, when you and six equally spontaneous, irrational girls unanimously decide to have a cartwheeling contest down the dock in a rainstorm at 1:00 in the morning. That moment now gets added to my list of best life moments. I think I needed it.

I feel like I have been thinking and talking a lot about dreams since I have been in Africa. Being here was one of my dreams. I recently found out that I got accepted to grad school for this coming September. I will be studying applied behavioural analysis for children with disabilities. When people ask me how I feel about it, all I can think is that, if I had the chance to create a dream job for myself, this would be it. For whatever reason, I have been blessed to be one of those people that gets to realize her dreams. I have always genuinely believed that “the world is at my fingertips”. I have made it my mission to make others think the same way. I like to inspire other people to dream big and realize that there are actually no limits to what they can achieve. If you have enough determination to accomplish something, there are no barriers, only obstacles. The other night, I started to question my theories. A late-night conversation made me wonder if my unfailingly optimistic attitude has less to do with the reality of the situation and more to do with my circumstances. I can’t deny that I was born into a life of privilege. Anyone reading this was. I don’t claim to be a natural genius. But, simply based on the fact that I was born in North America, I got to go to school. I had to choose to pursue higher education, but I really can’t say that there were too many real obstacles in my way. And, every time somebody told me I could be anything I wanted to be in this life, I knew that it was true. I could.

The other night, a wonderfully heart-wrenching conversation with my friend Alfred left me with a mental dilemma about whether my perspective on reaching goals is ridiculously naïve. Alfred has become a household name on the Africa Mercy. He is everyone’s favorite wannabe Ivy League Scholar, trapped in a 14-year-old’s body. About half of the time, he is a mature, well-spoken kid with a vocabulary that makes me envious. His other moody, pouty, grudge-holding, manipulative half is less desirable, but is probably what ropes us all in, makes us laugh, and awards him with the undivided attention of all his “aunties” (nurses) well into the night. He made me promise that I would come visit him on my night shift the other night after all of my patients went to bed. So, at midnight, I went to A-ward and pulled a chair up beside his bed, where he was waiting for me. Never one for small talk, we dove right into a heart-to-heart. “What job do you want to have when you are a grown man Alfred?” There was no pause. Alfred held up three fingers. “Three things I want to do:

One: Go to college.
Two: Find the medicine for AIDS.
Three: Get married.”

How absolutely appropriate. What else would he want to do with his life?

But hearing him say it touched me immensely. Partially because hearing him say it sounded so normal. Sounded like the dreams I remember having at fourteen. But there exists a very real disparity between my dreams at fourteen and his. I think that maybe on this side of the world, the world really isn’t at your fingertips. Or maybe God just has to work an even bigger miracle in order for a 14-year-old’s dreams to come true. I truly hope that Alfred’s dreams come true. It would be amazing if he could contribute somehow to finding a cure for AIDS. As I dug a little deeper, I learned that his passion started when he was a young child and he came into contact with his first person with AIDS. “It pained my heart and I wanted to find the medicine to help him”.

The reality that most likely, Alfred (or at least the entire nation of children that Alfred represents) will not get to realize his dreams is devastating to me. Hearing him pour out his uncensored heart made it impossible to ignore that he is not just one of masses. He is not different than me or less deserving of a purposeful future. He is a unique individual with unique dreams that just happened to be born in Liberia. I want him to be able to bring into reality the life that he has planned for himself. I wanted to be able to wholeheartedly encourage him that determination and commitment alone would be enough to allow him to make it happen for himself. Until this moment in my life, I would have unreservedly spewed out to him my naïve sense of assurance that one can make whatever one wants happen. I couldn’t do it with Alfred. I couldn’t lie to him. I told him I hoped so. I told him that he had an excellent goal. I told him that if he allows God to be his strength then God will help him accomplish amazing things.

I guess that is all any of us can dream for our lives. Wherever you are born, there is no guarantee that the specifics you desire will come into realization. Details change. There are worldly limitations. Sometimes we realize we want the things we want for the wrong reasons. But, I like to believe that if God is truly the center of my plan then I can’t go wrong. That whatever becomes of me and this life will be beyond my wildest dreams. And I like to believe that the same is true for Alfred.

This is my Sonnie. She has gone home now, but I just uploaded these pictures from my camera and they make me laugh and I wanted to share the laughter around. She definitely thinks I am crazy.

I would have liked to be a singer. Unfortunately, unless perfecting Ariel’s “Part of your World” in perfect harmony with your best friend qualifies you to make your livelihood by singing, I think that my dream to be the next Kelly Clarkson may never come true. As it is, I possess very little musical talent. Rhythm, yes. Fifteen years of dance lessons and I can confidently clap on time. Sometimes I can even predict how Randy and Simon will judge wannabe pop stars. And I think that Jared and Aislin are for real the “next big thing”. My musical “ear” stops there. I have never been one of those people who found a whole lot of meaning or purpose in the music they listen to. Being in Africa has changed that for me. Music is everywhere. Pure, whole-hearted, lively, purposeful, perfectly fabricated music. Music that you can’t hear without appreciating the talent and emotion behind it.

Sunday morning, at ward church, I started to cry. Ward church is when we get all the patients together in one ward (which, yes, is a huge violation of every infection-control precaution, but, this is Africa!). The patients, nurses, doctors, and other crew have “church”. We squeeze anyone that wants to be there into one tiny ward and pack as many people as possible onto the 10 beds. Like most African church, it consists of a lot of singing. Some preaching. Patients tell testimonies of how their lives have been transformed. Then more singing. That’s when I cry. I can’t really explain why, except that I am a “happy-crier”. Happy movies, triumphant moments, ceremonies of great accomplishment, reflecting on wonderful memories, or anything that stirs up overwhelming feelings of joy are all successful in bringing me to tears. It has happened on more than one occasion here. I can’t exactly pinpoint the common factor that causes me to melt, but, I know that when the ward fills with the radiant sound of joyous, broken people celebrating their source of hope, it is literally “music to my ears”.

I am trying now to think about what makes the music so incredibly unique and wonderful. A lot of it has to do with the fact that Africans have an inherent sense of rhythm and musicality that probably rivals any other group. It is ironic that in the ward of a hospital ship off the coast of Liberia, with simply a set of bongos, one sasa, and about a hundred incredible talented voices comes potentially the most wonderful sound I have experienced in my short life. How much money, time, energy goes into creating albums and songs that will never even begin to compare with what they have going on here? But anyways, the point: some of it is just raw talent.

And then some of it has to do with the passion underlying it all. There is something amazing about a completely uninhibited expression of art. It seems that they have nothing to prove. Nobody to impress. No restraints. With this comes a freedom that I believe I can hear in their music.

Lastly and probably most importantly, I think that their music makes me cry because of the emotions that drive it. When I hear a nation of people who have been brutalized and known unthinkable horrors sing that they "will give God their lifetime” and to “tell Papa God thank you”, my heart breaks. So much emotion wells up within me. They actually have no reason to be joyous or thankful. I looked at Blessing who will be in the hospital for the next few months as the doctors reconstruct her non-existent face. I looked at Edwin, who actually has no skin on his back and will most likely not make it if his skin-grafts aren't successful. I looked at Georgia who hates people in scrubs because she needed skin grafts after an African hospital experience gone-wrong. I watched all of the patients and families in the room belt out amazing expressions of love and thanksgiving to a God who, by all tangible measures, has not been evident to them. That proves to me that God’s love is bigger than the tangible things. He is not limited to expressing his love in the ways we think he should. If they can give God their lives and tell Him how they love him, then there is no way that his love is not absolutely real. Their songs are not empty. They are so clearly driven by love. I am so thankful to serve and be loved by a God who can inspire that kind of thing and I hope that I never forget the feeling of being a room where the love is so present you can actually “feel” it.

Every once in a while, life feels perfect. Overall, I would say I am an optimist; however, I am very aware that usually, things aren't perfect. Life is, more often than not, a challenge. Things rarely go exactly as planned. But that fact makes the times when things feel perfect so very valuable. How important it is to recognize and appreciate times when everything falls into place with such appropriate timing and detailed perfection. I don't think we were every promised a perfect world or life. I don't think we should expect it. But I definitely think we should be thankful when it happens.

My day was a shining example of such perfection. I don't know if I am just more aware of it because these days, I feel like life has been "falling into place" for me and I am conscious of God's perfect provision and timing. Or maybe God just thought I needed a treat. Either way, in the words of pretty much every Liberian I have met, "Thanks God!"

Any nurse will understand that having that perfect balance of "just enough to do without being stressed" on a given shift is a rarity. Usually, I find myself running around feeling about 12 steps behind where I wanted to be. If that is not the case, then it is the opposite, and there are too few patients and nobody needs anything, which is boring. And then there are days like today, when the shift flies by, and you feel accomplished and competent and had plenty of time to play with the beautiful little children that have been placed in your care. My favourite little girl, Sonnie, went home today. We had a bond. She definitely hated me for her first week here. Like many Liberian children, she equated white people with needles and painful medical treatments. So, I paced myself with Sonnie. Baby steps to friendship. The first day I taught her to play catch with her one mangled hand and her "good" hand bandaged from surgery. I slowly progressed to peek-a-boo. Soon she wanted me to hold her. Yesterday I taught her to hit other nurses in the face with balloons. Now, we were in love. Yesterday, she actually chose me over her mom. Maybe it is just my youngest child, only girl in the family syndrome coming out, but I am choosing to believe that I am her favourite.

Today, I got to discharge her home. There is a song that we sing here in Liberia that anyone working on the Africa Mercy will agree is the absolute WORST song for sticking in your head for days and days and days. "I've got a very big God-O, He is always by my side.....by my side, by my side". So, I am singing it as I am getting her ready to go home today and, I swear that out of her little voice comes "by my side, by my side". I am not sure if Sonnie speaks English. I am actually not even sure if, at less than two years old, she would be able to pick-up something like that so quickly and incorporate it into her vocabulary. But, I heard it. My heart smiled.

Then this beautiful baby fell asleep in my arms and I wondered how I would ever find any other moment meaningful ever again.

Then they sold grilled cheese in the cafe when my shift was over.

Could I BE any happier???

It's been too long. I have no excuse. There is no justification for why I have gone so long without contact with the outside world. The thing is, at home, there are usually reasons why things don't get done. But, I am living on a ship in Liberia, so the "things to do" are fairly limited. I am either working in the ward, out in Monrovia (which can only ever be for 4 hours, and I require to be fairly well spaced throughout the week, due to the extreme overstimulation that accompanies any trip to the "big city"), watching pirated DVDs we bought in the city, reading, or (occasionally) sleeping. It's actually one of the things that I truly appreciate about my life here. For a brief season, however emotionally draining things can get, I am free from the worries of bills, errands, appointments, commuting, and essentially all the stress involved with scheduling and time management. Even when something is scheduled, it is on "Africa time", which means at starts at least 10 minutes late, and then only follows a given itinerary very loosely. That being said, I really have no excuse for not blogging. I guess except that sometimes life here is so vastly different from everything I have ever known, and the significant moments that make me smile, laugh, or break my heart are so frequent that it is hard to choose just a few and know how to accurately portray them.

Thus, I have been compiling a list in my head. A list of some (definitely not all) of the things that happen that make me wish I could capture in my head to relive over and over. As much as I can't stand the overuse and misuse of the word, most of the occurrences of the last two months could be described as nothing less than random. I can't even count the number of situations that I regret occurring when I have been alone because recounting funny events is always better when someone experienced it first hand with you. So, here it is: my list of Wish-Katie-was-here-with-me-because-everything-is-more-fun- when-we-experience-it-together, "random", would-only-ever-happen-in-Africa compilation:

- Upon arrival at an intersection, the driver of our vehicle, in all seriousness asked aloud "Where's my policeman?" Traffic lights being essentially non-existent, police officers serve to direct traffic in congested areas. Seriously. All the time. So, what do we do when he goes for lunch?

- Following the Ceilidh dance on the dock last night (definitely then highlight of the weekend), my friends and I soaked our feet in hydrogen peroxide so we didn't get any diseases from our open blisters

- Instead of placing the fresh post-op child I received today on a monitor and putting her to bed, I advised her mother to strap her to her back with a lapa and take her to the ward church. I watched to make sure she stayed "pink"

-Last Sunday night we watched "The Sound of Music" and close to 50 twenty-something-year-olds belted out every song, word for word. It started out as a casual idea of a movie that we could watch on the "big screen" because it is MSA (Mercy Ships Appropriate) and turned into a full-blown production with multiple-part harmonies and show-stopping choreography.

- It rained again on Friday, on our way to the beach. My second African rain experience. Our cab didn't have windows, so we really didn't even need to swim once we got to the beach

- A U.S. Navy Ship was docked in our port for a couple of days. They hadn't had Starbucks in a while and apparently Americans have the type of codependent relationship with Starbucks that we have with Tim Horton's. So, we got to tour their ship in exchange for free coffee. A real live functioning military ship. Made me feel all patriotic and proud to be an American....if only I was American

- We recently visited a local hospital. Although I work in hospital that is currently located in Africa, I by no means have a true concept of what it is like to work in an African hospital. My favourite part was the health teaching resources: hand drawn & coloured posters about how to feed your baby ("bottle feeding is wrong: breastfeeding is right"), how your baby will be circumcised, and how HIV is contracted. Whatever works!

- UNMIL photo-shoot....an international fashion revolution....enough said: http://www.flickr.com/photos/65504858@N00/sets/72157604318855514/