The Sunday before I left for Togo, I had a number of church family members ask me if I was excited for my trip. I remember having the realization at that point that in one week exactly, I would be in African church. That thought made me excited.

However, due to jetlag on my first Sunday here, and then an unfortunate incident the next week with either the dirt-covered fanmilk bag I had to suck on to enjoy my delicious ice-creamy treat, or the fanmilk itself, I missed African church my first two weeks here. This made today my first Togolese service. As I explained to a friend this morning at breakfast, the three most important criteria for African church are as follows:

a) Not so hot that you require IV fluids to rehydrate in the afternoon – if oral fluids will do, you have chosen the right place (being hot is a given – so “cool” would be an unrealistic criterion)
b) Less than 4 hours (again – it’s going to be long…..also a given)
c) English translation that is actually English

Miraculously, God granted me all three wishes this morning. We had the opportunity to worship at a church that was planted by fellow Mercy Shippers in 1995 in a small fishing village, about 15 minutes from the port that we call home. And, it was everything I could have ever dreamed of.

As I should have been expecting, all the Mercy Shippers were called up to the front to introduce ourselves and say where we were from. We were taught the "official" Togolese national dance (I had already been taught the Togolese national dance – during translator orientation, so I was sort of a pro….except for the fact that while doing the Togolese national dance, one looks quite similar to a chicken and it is hard to look much like a pro while dancing like a chicken).

During the sermon, the congregation spontaneously raised a beautiful song that I knew very well from my time in Liberia. As we all sang “Do something new in my life, oh God”, I couldn’t help but think about the fact that this outreach isn’t just simply “another trip to Africa”, a Liberian reunion, or a checkmark off my bucket list, but that God has unique plans of what he wants to do in me and through me for this season.

But the incident that trumped them all occurred after the service was over. I read somewhere once that “inside the heart of every North American lies an innate desire to box up their old winter jackets and send them to Africa". That always made me laugh – mostly because I think it reflects the way most of us think of Africa. Desolate. Desperate. Lacking. And the reality is that my experience of Africa has been none of those things. But this morning, I got to see the effects of what happens when people really do box up their things and send them to Africa. In this case, the "people" were from a church in Tenerife, and the "things" were brand new toys and clothes. And the outcome was so great to experience.

Because, as much praise as I give to my African brothers and sisters for their spiritual, emotional, relational, and cultural wealth, they often lack the finances for new clothes and toys for their babies for play with. So, to watch an entire congregation open up massive boxes of material blessings was truly an honour. Not because it necessarily changed their lives in any massively significant way, but because through those boxes of goods two very different groups of people became connected. And, if packing up our stuff and sending it to people who might be able to use it accomplishes that, then I am off to find some duck tape....

I remember the day that I truly realized how blessed I am. Blessed and undeserving.

It was the day I became friends with Marion. In crossing the line from caregiver and nurse to friends who found genuine similarities between one another, I became starkly aware that (if God had willed it) our two situations could have been easily reversed. From that point forward, it was impossible for me to view my upbringing, my geographical home, my family, my education, or my experiences as anything more than cards dealt to me by my heavenly father – not at all haphazardly or arbitrarily – yet similarly without obvious cause or warrant.

It has been this type of thinking that has prevented me from being able to settle into a self-serving life. But, as it turns out, it seems that it has been this type of thinking that is also making “this time around” feel so natural so quickly.

On Tuesday, at the reception we hosted for our Togolese hospital translators to welcome them to our healthcare services team, I met Aida. My new sister and I spent the better part of an hour learning about eachother’s lives, histories, and passions. For those few precious moments - for which I was scarcely aware of the other one hundred something people in the dining hall - I became truly connected to another person in that unique, rare way that I used to think would only be possible with someone whom I had invested copious amounts of quality time. But, as Aida told me her story, it was impossible to deny that we have been cut from the same cloth.

“….I know that I am blessed to have received an education…I consider it my responsibility to bless others with my skills…when I look at little children, I know I need to help because I see them as innocent……it is so important to teach people skills that can be used in the future to support their families… people sometimes question whether I am capable to do the job because they think I am too young…God called me to do his work and I had no choice but to go…”

Aida received her post-secondary education in Business from a University in England. She returned to her homeland and, despite initially finding a fairly well-paying, prestigious job, Aida chose to give up her job to create an NGO. God gave her the name Yayra for her organization– which means blessing in her native language of Mina. She and her 5 coworkers travel to rural areas where many groups put little to no value on formal education. As Aida explained to me, education is paid for by the government up until the end of the equivalent of elementary school, but many children do not attend due to a lack of cultural value on school. Aida’s passion is for children to be able to go to school, even if only to obtain the foundational skills they can acquire in the first years of being in the educational system. Her team does teaching, and raises money to pay for school uniforms or supplies, if that is the inhibiting factor. In addition, they try to do agricultural training for families that are currently farming on a small scale, but have yet to expand to a level where their farming can provide a regular income. In Aida’s words:

“I want to help both groups. For the children, they have the opportunity to receive an education, and I want to help them with that. But there are many people for whom school is no longer an option. We want to provide something for them as well”

Aida and her team live the definition of their namesake. In comparison, my life’s vision probably fails miserably. But her life’s work spoke to me - because I saw her, and felt her passion, and understood her vision. And, the ability of the two of us to connect in such a unique way is yet another miraculous blessing.

When I really think about my life and the vast scope of people who have influenced the person I am today, I am able to identify numerous wonderful people who I have admired. That being said, very rarely do we come across people whose consistent faithfulness and servitude set an example truly worthy of being used as a guide and inspiration for our own actions. For me, one of the rare exceptions has been Dr. Gary Parker. He is one of those exceptional saints who I consider to represent, not only the epitome of excellent healthcare, but also the epitome of who we should be as followers of Christ.

Which is why I know that when Dr. Gary is holding a teaching session, there is something important to be learned. Like tonight, for example.

We have just spent the last week and a half waxing floors, making beds, cleaning the wards, stocking supplies, orientating local day volunteers, hosting members of the Togolese medical community, and touring the non-medical crew of the Africa Mercy through the hospital … all important tasks for the eventual reopening of the wards…..but none coming even close to bringing the satisfaction and sense of purpose that bedside nursing brings to a nurse. So, I was just starting to contemplate the idea of maybe feeling just the slightest bit unmotivated. Or distracted. Or invested in things that, deep down, I know don’t really matter but that seem to start to matter when your mind has nowhere else to be.

Until I started to listen to Dr. Gary’s talk.

I was so clearly reminded of why we came here. He reminded us that the biggest health problems in the developing world have simple solutions. He reminded us that to whom much has been given, much is expected (“…freely you have received, freely give” Matthew 10:8). He reminded us that we have the opportunity to offer tangible hope to people who may have never experienced anything comparable (at which point I considered the very real possibility that bringing hope and healing represents so much more than just catchy alliteration on my Mercy Ships-branded wear).

And just so readily, all else began to fade. Thoughts of whether I would remember how to complete the excel spreadsheet for the patient census when I do my first shift as a charge nurse seem shockingly less relevant.

Perhaps that is how God intended it. That if we turn our eyes to him, trust him, choose to honour him, obey his commands, and listen to his voice – that he will take care of the rest.


"At the end of life we will not be judged by how many diplomas we have received how much money we have made, how many great things we have done. We will be judged by "I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat, I was naked and you clothed me. I was homeless, and you took me in."
- Mother Theresa

I’m in Africa.

The place that has pulsed through my soul since I left it so many months ago. The place that forced me to think things and feel things that I didn’t know to exist before coming here. The place that taught me how small the world is and how truly similar its inhabitants are, regardless of where they happened to be born.

From a very external viewpoint, my first seven days back on this wonderfully bizarre floating world that I have so quickly come to call home could be considered far less than perfect. My luggage did a 4-day African tour prior to being reunited with me – its rightful owner. Neither my lungs nor my stomach have been terribly compliant with the travel and new environment. And, as any fellow Mercy Shipper could attest, the transition from unlimited personal time and space to this can take a small bit of adjustment.

But, as much as my world has done a complete 180 in the past seven days, something about that just feels..."right"

I knew it the moment I walked up the gangway last Saturday night and was greeted by the warm embraces of friends that I have only been able to dream of for the last year. I knew it the first time we went out to Africa and saw mamas sitting on stools under palm trees, washing babies on their laps and knowing that in a few short days, mamas just like them will bring their babies to our ship and allow me the privilege of caring for them. I knew it when I was sitting on the beach yesterday watching massive, powerful waves crash against the shore and became so conscious of God’s great might.

And the best part is that the best is yet to come…